Evil Demon Hand Tattoo Novels & Stories

The weight of the moment was palpable, heightened by the realization that the priest standing beside me was none other than Krystallo, the infamous mafia priest known for his merciless acts. My eyes inadvertently drifted towards the cross-shaped tattoo, intertwined with a viper, adorning Krystallo's neck. The intricate design served as a chilling reminder of the countless lives he had taken and the blood that stained his hands. It was a symbol of power and ruthlessness, one that sent shivers down the spines of even the most hardened criminals.

I admire the tattoo taking up most of his back, it's similar to Storms. It's a pair of evil snake eyes in red, with a green and yellow snake wrapped around the pistol facing the red eyes of the evil snake. The words The Satan Sniper’s Motorcycle Club are written under the pistol. But what has me at a standstill is the shading that's done around the entire picture, it's a light shading but unmistakable. It's wings, Angel wings. I don't say anything. I want to but I'm tongue tied. I scan his back and stop at the blue bruises around his sides.

“So… those things I saw earlier... they were really d*mons?” “They were,” he said, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Whether they’re the same ones from the mansion or not, it doesn’t really matter. Shadow fiends all come from the same hell.” I let that sink in. Same hell. That explained the creepy vibes, but it didn’t explain him. I glanced down at his arm—the one with the tattoo. My brows furrowed. Earlier… that thing moved. Like smoke twisting off his skin. My hand moved on its own, tracing over the ink on his forearm. It looked like thorny vines—dark, twisted, and sharp. But now I saw it: there were little streaks of red hidden between the thorns. Was that… blood?

The skin is a dark, grotesque, reddish tone tainted with black tar, and the nails are long and sharp. Demon hands.

Even asleep, his arm was wrapped around my waist with a firmness that said *you’re not going anywhere. Then I saw my wrist. Where the silver arrow had pierced me, where the wound should have left a scar, there was something else. A symbol. Small, the size of a coin, as if someone had engraved it with invisible ink that only showed under certain light. Angular lines curving into themselves, forming a pattern I recognized instantly. Dark Tongue. I had a demonic symbol tattooed on my wrist. *“Pretty, isn’t it?”* The inner voice. Soft, purring — like a cat stretching after a long nap.

I tried to fix it as I said, “I am so sorry, Alex. I didn’t deliberately tear the sleeve.” “It’s okay, Eva. I would rather have my shirt torn to bits rather than you falling off into this valley.” He replied with a dry laugh. It was then I noticed the large tattoo on his upper arm. I wondered how I had never noticed it before. It was so pretty. There was a floral wreath and in the middle of it, there was a golden flame that spread out beautifully. It formed the shape of an inverted heart. When I ran my hand over the tattoo, I felt a tingling sensation course through my body. Startled, I removed my hand instantly.

Dáinn said and I nod my head. "Other demons working for them and plenty of human contracts" I say and he nods his head causing me to sigh my head hanging down. Slowly a hand touches mine a warms shooting through my fingertips causing me to look at my left hand. His fingers were still a black color it lightly trailing up towards his wrists in scattered lines looking up I see his side profile. His strong jaw line catching my attention, the soft shape of his nose, the way his eyebrows lightly furrowed together as he looked forward.

I never felt this way about any the girls I been with before. “Did, you just say that you love her?” “Yes, and from the bottom of this heart that I thought for the longest time that I believed I no longer even had that I do. So, is there someone you can tell me that can put some light to this?” She looked at me for a while, but then looks a round for something. I see that she found paper and a pencil, so I guess write a name down for me. When she finally hands me the paper, I couldn’t believe the name that was on it. Why would she even be involved with a hitman that only people like me would even know who he is. Davian Ehecatl is not a guy that anyone should mess with and for good reason. I

“Your tattoos are beautiful.” I look at the tattoo of a skull surrounded by black flames. My whole right arm is decorated with tattoos from shoulder to wrist. My skin prickles with every caress of her fingers, but I don’t stop her from touching me. The tattoo sleeve has several tribal symbols, and there are a seal trident and a frogman tattoo on my shoulder. Each tattoo represents something in my life. The skull represents my status as an Assassin, and the cross is a play on my name. Her finger moves down the line of my intricate cross, then to the inside of my rib cage, where I have an inscription. Qui velit, ut vivat in aeternum.