Evil Nun Tattoo Drawings Novels & Stories

His husky voice seemed like a promising warning to her and she fluttered her eyes open. His dark eyes and devilish side smirk didn't seem sincere to her at all. But from the close she dared to see his face clearly, that dark spot was actually a tattoo which was a black snake. Half of it was drawn on his temple area and the other half started from the under corner of his left eye, running across his left cheek, sinking to his ear. She could tell that under that tattoo was the deep scar which was perfectly hidden by the art. He looked scary with that thing, like a demon. Cruel Damon.

He got out of the van and gazed out at the nighttime scenery, closing his eyes so he could calm his breathing. A flashback stamped his head, a harsh memory, dark days, bad smells, severe hunger, bone-chilling cold... He gripped one of his hands until his knuckles turned white, cupping the grip with the other palm, still standing like a dolmen stranded in the area. One hour later, not so far away, wearing only a pair of black boxers, Leonel squeezed that hand with a half-finger glove. He opened and closed it several times, adjusting the garment, putting one on his other hand.

It was the first time she looked at Alec, without having to look away out of shame from some phrase said by him. After a week without seeing him, Evie had noticed that Alec was growing a beard and had some gaps on the side. On his neck, there were three birthmarks, which looked like the three marias stars. Alec only had tattoos on his arms and none seemed to have any meaning, as they were just random drawings. A little below the figure he had tattooed, was a band, protecting the wound that had been made by one of the bullets.

She had been betted by a man, won by a man, now she is being pricked by a man whom she trusted last night. He hated tattoos but he felt satisfied when the ink carved his name’s first letter on her heart. Was the surprise over for her? No way. He changed the ink, but she had not expected this. He cut his thumb with a razor and red droplets of blood started pouring down. He held it on the ink pen and dropped the blood in it. Elena saw this bloody sight and her tears escaped as he loaded the pen on the machine. “Aslan, pl…” But her sentence stopped mid sentence by the look in his eyes. He was not a man but a devil’s incarnation with fire burning in his blue eyes.

No wonder Killian couldn’t look me in the eye this morning. I reach for the sketch pad Elara left by the nightstand. My fingers tremble, but I grip the pencil like it’s my lifeline. I don’t even think, I just draw. Symbols. Circles. Eyes with fire spilling from them. A wolf with a shattered spine. A crown that burns. A clock with no hands. My hand stops only when I notice the paper trembling beneath my touch. Not from me. From the floor. A low vibration hums through the wood. Like a warning.

His free hand dug into my hip, fingers bruising, holding me exactly where he wanted me as he fucked me like he was trying to brand himself inside me forever. “Fuck, Eve,” he snarled, breath hot against my neck. “This cunt is sucking me in, milking me like it never wants me to leave. You’re gonna take this knot again, aren’t you? Gonna let me lock you down and flood this greedy little hole until you’re swollen with me.”

"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.

My body tingled, the pain on my butt cheek sending a jolting message to my brain. This time, he fully turned until he was staring at me. It was my turn to ogle him. Black and red ink ran the length of his arms, one sleeve extending to the outer side of his chest, and leaving his pectoral muscles bare. I traced the intricate design on that specific one, and when I made out an angry dragon swallowing the little red heart just right above his left rib cage, I knew damn well that any chances of redemption for this man were long gone. They were gone before decided to ink THAT onto his skin.

The sound of my heartbeat rings through my ears as I push open his door, then slam it behind me. Emilian’s hand pauses on his hair, eyes holding a brief surprise before it disappears, and my lips part as my eyes roll down his frame. He seems to have just walked out of the bathroom with the towel wrapped around his waist, and I gulp at the tattoos that decorate his left leg. A slow exhale, lips parting when my eyes drag up, drinking in the beads of water that trickle along his muscled abdomen into the skin shielded by the towel. There are black inks carved into his upper chest and over his collarbone; drawings of snakes, skulls, many other abstract paintings, and writings in both English and

There it was—a tattoo just above his dick. The tattoo was impossible to miss—dark wings of the devil, flames licking at the edges. It sat just above where his cock must be. The image burned into my mind, impossible to forget, as I let my gaze wander over the rest of him. Every inch of his body was carved from muscle, sharp lines and hard planes that seemed to radiate heat. “Oh, you want the play-by-play? Alright, let’s indulge your little nightmare scenario,” he said, the dark amusement riddled in his blue eyes as my eyes shot back to his face.