Gone But Never Forgotten Tattoos Novels & Stories

Goodbye. And never again.

His skin was slightly tanned skin and his waist was a perfect V. Over his chest was the same tattoo Val had shown me, the Omerta tattoo, a promise of belonging to the brotherhood until death. He followed my gaze to the words under his tattoo and he read, “Con il sangue, veniamo. Con il sangue, andiamo.” “I’m not very good at Italian. What does it mean?” “With blood, we come. With blood, we go.” “It’s a reminder that you’re stuck?” He gave a curt nod. “Forever. There’s no leaving once you’re in it, especially if you’re born to it.”

Silence stretched on before he finally said, "I get it. I'll change. Can we start over?" I smiled, turning to look at the bright sky outside the window. "But I've already started over." He clenched his fists and stared at me, his eyes thick with desperation. I sighed. "Forget it, Ethan. You're never going to change." Because he'd never believed he'd done anything wrong. He only thought that since I was upset, he'd fix the issue to please me—that was all. "Don't forget to sign the Bond-Breaking Agreement. If you won't, I can always buy the bond-breaking potion from a healer."

Her eyes briefly rested on the tombstone before she turned away without a flicker of hesitation. As Zeke gazed upon her retreating, indifferent figure, a tear of remorse slipped quietly down his cheek. It dawned on him then that no amount of time could ever soften her heart to forgive him.

Megan said suddenly, tugging on her sleeve. Justine blinked and looked down. A small figure stood near the gate, almost hidden in the shadows. She hadn't seen Gavin in ages. He looked much thinner than before. There were red patches on his skin, and his arms and legs were covered in marks that looked like burns or welts. He looked like he had been through hell. Their eyes met. And in that instant, the pain Gavin had been holding back came crashing forward. He ran toward Justine without a word, flung himself into her arms, and broke down sobbing.

Henry shouted, "No! Yelena, I will never divorce you! And the child—why did you never tell me about it?" His voice trembled as he spoke. He was probably regretting it, but what was the use of regret? We could never go back. No matter how hard he tried, it was over. "I will never agree to a divorce!" Henry insisted. "Don't joke with me. This isn't funny at all." So, he thought I was joking.

A body made for war. "Let’s start from the back," he said, turning. I dragged my gaze over the designs. He started with the skull, the first tattoo he ever got—at eleven—after his first kill. It was massive, covering most of his upper back, though other ink had been added over time. "The woman’s face over the skull, to the left," he pointed, "that’s my mother. And the dove beneath it signifies her demise." His voice was detached, but I felt the weight of it.

"What is it with you and Andrew both getting 'Always' tattooed on you? Are you in a cult or something?" "No, always is our way of saying we love each other, it's our word and now we both have it on us forever, just like our love will be." He may have doubts that Andy and I will be together forever, but for me, getting this tattoo cements the faith I have in this relationship. I sat back and admired my new tattoo while Ed cleaned up. The skin was still very tender and sore, but in the end, it was worth all the pain. I loved the style of writing Ed used, how he made a simplistic word look so stunning.

And my hands were shaking because my mate was trusting me. When the fabric finally parted, my breath caught. An infinity tattoo rested on her right shoulder, delicate lettering woven through one of its loops. Por Siempre. Forever. I knew enough Spanish to understand that. My eyes lingered on it. Forever. Of all the fucking words she could've had permanently written against her skin. My wolf went strangely quiet. Morgan noticed. “What?” I touched near the tattoo with my fingertips. “Por Siempre.” She smiled softly. “Forever.”

I ask him. " On my back. And it says the heart can be darker too. And free drugs. I was seventeen then." He says and I smile. " Second?" " Omertà." He answers. " You know I actually thought that was supposed to be your first tattoo." " Nah. My dad never wanted me to have that in case I decided to leave the mob." He says. " And what does the Arabic tattoo mean? And why Arabic?" I ask. " I like them and the language. And the meaning; It means 'my soul is darker than night'. The other one is 'angels don't die'."