Greek Mythology Geometric Tattoo Novelas e Histórias

"Be careful, Ria." Cryx and I, and the others have our own codes basing on Greek and Roman Mythology. Right now, I based it on the glory of Greece, the Illiad by Homer. The Battle between the Acaeans (Greeks) and the Trojans. During their conquer of Chryse, a town allied with Troy, the Greeks captured Chryseis and Briseis. Agamemnon took Chryseis as his crowning glory while Achilles took Briseis. When Chryseis' father learned of this, he offered a magnanimous sacrifice to the god Apollo for his daughter's safe return. Agamemnon then conspired to take Briseis away from Achilles and offer her as remuneration. This will allow Cryx to decipher that there is danger nearby and they plan to take Br

I hand over his phone. He takes it and climbs out of the bed without a care that he's naked in broad daylight. His round ass and muscles flake when he walks to the window to answer the phone. A sudden heat pools in my aching core by looking at his naked glory. He's perfect, carves out of the ancient Greek scriptures. I plop on my elbow and take the time to admire his tattoos. Why these mafia men always have an obsession for inks? My eyes skims over the big lion's head covering most of his upper back and a serpent spitting fire. Something is written in Latin or Greek, I don't know as I'm only acquainted with English, my mother tongue.

Written in Greek scripture were the words "If I must be owned, at least chain me to someone who will let me fly free." Adrastus took in a sharp breath, his nose flaring, all sense of humor wiped from his face as he looked intensely at her. "What.did.you.say?" And April realized she must have spoken out loud, her brow furrowed in confusion as she thought to herself ' know how to translate Greek scripture?' "The tattoo, on your neck, it says If I must be owned, at least chain me to someone who will let me fly free." Adrastus' pale blue eyes seemed to get swallowed up in a dark black storm as his body trembled, heat pulsing from him like a raging fire.

She pulled out a tablet and showed me a picture of the dress. It was a beautiful white, long sleeveless gown with a turtle neck and a split in the center almost like a crop top but it connected in front and there were gold designs all over it. I made a mental note to look up Greek mythology in my free time to get a better idea of what she was saying. "That's really beautiful," I said as she placed the tablet on the table. She nodded. "I haven't even released the design to the stylist yet, can't afford to have any leaks with this one," She said and I nodded in understanding.

As he demanded, Athena made him a sandwich. By the time she was done cooking, he already came down, but without his shirt, he was only in his sweatpants, his tattoos visible to her. He had a cobra on his front and something that looked like a stork or a hawk in the back. She was figuring out why he got all of his skin covered in tattoos, “Stop ogling,” he yelled at her without a tiny bit of gentleness in his tone.

I pulled out of her, turning her around to face me. "Dane!" she sobbed. My eyes darted as I searched her naked body and when I turned her back to me again. I saw the sign of a thunderbolt carved with fire into her skin. It was like one using a red hot iron to brand a flesh. I quickly placed my hand over it, not caring if the guardian would find me. I shapeshifted and used my tongue to wipe the spot. Her body shook and the fire stopped but the sign was already on her skin. She took a shaky breath and started to cry. I held her tightly to my body, scared to think of what the sign meant. It symbolised my weapon of war and Zeus’ lightning bolt. I couldn't deny the simple fact that she was marke

Her Mona Lisa smile fills me with a sense of relief. Beside her is a woman who could be mistaken for the striking woman in history known as Cleopatra. Hecate is shorter than Mother. She observes the room with intense, dark eyes. When she moves her head, it leaves a kind of vapor trail, showing she can see in multiple directions at once. She has charcoal colored shadow all the way across her eyes and the bridge of her nose and deep red lipstick staining her lips. Her long, straight jet black hair compliments a perfect deep olive complexion. She has burned protective sigils onto her cheeks along with circular tattoos placed strategically around her face and neck. She has slits in her natural c

"Not everyone looking for me is as careless as Julian Vane. There are people out there who don't understand the concept of 'surrender.'" He approached me, and even though he walked with a slight limp, his presence was still overwhelming. He stopped in front of the stove, and the light from the fire illuminated the tattoos on his back once more. I was mesmerized by one in particular on his left shoulder blade: an ancient shield intertwined with thorns and an iron crown. It didn't look like the design of a common tattoo parlor; it had the symmetry of an official seal, of a coat of arms that demanded respect.

Why would I have a memory that didn't include sight or smell? I’m having these thoughts while lying nude on a hard bench as the queen massages Imperial Imperial oil, the same oil Ona used to heal my wounds, into my skin. It is a tradition in royal weddings that we are anointed with this oil, preparing us for joining in body and soul. Primus will be going through a similar ritual with his siblings. From here we will bake in the early morning sun, allowing its light to kiss us from head to toe, after which they will paint our bodies with runes for health, prosperity, and fertility just before they mark us with our marriage tattoos. Primus and I decided on a simple, traditional symbol, a mount

I smiled, though my body trembled slightly with unease. He smirked, his eyes darkening as he sauntered towards me. Slowly, he reached out, invading my space. My gaze drifted to his chest, where intricate tattoos sprawled across his skin, half of his left chest completely inked. There was a large python coiled menacingly, its fangs bared as if ready to strike. Surrounding it were other symbols—a bleeding dagger, an intricate skull wrapped in thorns, and a blood moon rising behind them all. The ink seemed almost alive, dark and haunting, like it held secrets too dangerous to reveal. I had seen something like this before. The imagery was disturbing, almost as if he were part of some secretive c