Evil Cupid Tattoo Novels & Stories

“Well check his side.” Elizabeth pulled up the side of his shirt and saw a tattoo like markings from his mid-side all the way up to his neck. “That’s the mark of a demon. During the bonding the partner gets injected with the demons venom. Mila being the devils one and only daughter is a very powerful demon. Sadly even more then me.” I paused letting her soak in the information. “Wait injected with demon venom,” She said looking at me with a worried look. “What would happen to him then?”

A task she had neglected this past week, until today. She’d been at the library for a few hours searching for anything remotely about “self-appearing tattoos” and “burning tattoos.” The worst article stated that a person who had a tattoo suddenly appear was marked by the devil and was an instrument of evil. She discounted it, even though it still bothered her. She had never been one to think mean or evil thoughts, nor she had never done anything evil or mean to another person in her life. So, she reasoned, the description didn’t fit her situation.

“Honestly? I don’t even know what I feel anymore.” His expression softened slightly. “That makes two of us.” She turned toward him fully. “Why did you really swear the oath?” Lucian hesitated. For the first time, uncertainty flickered across his face. Then he reached for the collar of his shirt and slowly pulled the fabric aside, Icarra’s breath caught instantly, a scar burned across his chest. Black. Twisted. Ancient symbols carved permanently into his skin, the same crescent mark stamped onto the Council summons. “The Council’s mark,” she whispered.

Another piece of myself ripped from myself as she dies. And there is absolutely nothing I can do. The loud buzz of the tattoo gun brings me back to the present. I glance down at my arm as I get some retouching finished and the new tattoo of her signature from her last letter. My friend Axel has been my tattoo artist since the 13th century. He's like me. A creature that lives forever, doesn't die, and is just here. His other half isn't cursed like mine is. A curse that takes her away from me. He has had his agapitós (beloved) since he was 22 in human years.

Truly disgusting, he would make sure to teach her a lesson she would never forget, she would regret what she did to Kira. " This man is suspected to be a member of the Dark Wolves " Ace pointed at the man sitting across from Evelyn. He had his back turned to the camera. He was large and bulky and there was a dragon tattoo peeking from his shirt, it stretched out around the back of his neck.

The needle bites, stinging, burning, carving into my skin. “Hold still,” he purrs, voice calm as a serial killer’s. “Gotta make it permanent.” “Permanent? I’ll make your bed permanent, six feet in the fucking ground.” He chuckles, low and filthy, leaning back like he’s on a throne instead of a mattress that’s seen better days. I twist, craning my neck, and fuck, he’s tattooed his bite mark onto my ass, the teeth indents inked in crisp black, and beneath it, in bold, jagged letters... Property of Echo.

Summer was present. It was a very strong and humid sun, the pirates could barely stand the heat, they were all on their backs. Igor was looking at his map. His body was hot, his hair was wet from sweat. Kataleya approached. “ Why the Triquetra tattoo? Igor: “ It means eternity! Kataleya: “ Eternity of what? Igor stared: “ I don't know, tell me! Igor extended his hand, so that Kataleya could read her destiny. Kataleya touched his hand and shook her head.

"Yevgeniy saw the kids born from those women as assets. The boys would go on to become his boeviki, and the girls ... Well, we had other uses." We? Did she just say we? My eyes widen as I hold my breath. She straightens up, advancing on me with purpose. I start to stand, but she's faster. She kneels in front of me, ripping open her jacket and shirt to expose the skin on her right shoulder. Pressed into it is a tattoo of a fox sitting on its haunches. Its black body is surrounded by thick, detailed chains. One look, and I can tell that the tattoo has been there for a long time.

It moved under his skin, devouring the healthy tissue, replacing it with something harder, darker. The ink hit his shoulder. It surged across his chest. It hit the "Keyhole" scar—the brand he had borne since childhood. The Keyhole didn't fight the black ink. It opened. The blackness swirled into the Keyhole, filling it, then exploded outward in intricate, jagged geometric patterns. They looked like tribal tattoos, but they throbbed with a sickly, necrotic light. The Curse of the Usurper. [SYSTEM CRITICAL UPDATE]

His men had done quite an impressive job on their victim. Leaning forward, a sharp tool flashed in his tattooed hands as he spoke ...his personal favourite weapon. A double blade dagger with his initials engraved on its side "This is what we're going to continue doing, for every wrong answer you give I'll rip off one of your body parts ...there's plenty you don't need to be alive" he paused, to see the desired effect of his words on the man.