Kevin Gates Face Tattoos Novels & Stories

They turned their directions opposite to each other and ran away from each other, still thinking about each other. • • • • A flight lands on the floor. It looks like a private flight. A person steps out. He wears a black hoodie and black pants. Everything he is wearing is all back from top to bottom! The pure black colour makes this man look terrible as well as hot! He removes his goggles from his face. "Kevin Knight, welcome back to Italy!" He frees his hands and welcomes him back while breathing. "Aaron Salvatore, I’m back, buddy. Now I’ll tell you who is the real king!" Kevin smiles devilishly.

But his eyes are cruel, dark and cold. "He...He has black hair, and a tattoo on his neck,” I say, shaking my head. The pain is slowly starting to diminish, leaving me feeling, gasping for air. I see fear ghost across Kastriv’s face. "Is the tattoo words, or a picture?" "A picture. I don't know what it is though." It appeared to be depicting something very particular, but it’s impossible to decipher. "Keo..." Kastriv murmurs. I frown, sitting up. The pain quickly falls away, leaving me feeling empty and vacant.

had lost too many. ****** ****** "Sir!" A hunter ran through the battlefield and pushed open the double doors that lead to hundreds of cells. "Things are getting hectic!" Kevin who was sitting quietly with his thin lips pressed tightly together, snapped his head in the newcomer's direction and slitted his brown eyes menacingly. "You think we don't know that!?" He boomed, the longest ringlet of his blond hair falling lightly over his left eye. "Get the fuck out there and protect this fucking place!" He pointed an angrily trembling finger at the door.

I shake my head at him and look away. He's sitting with his knees pulled up and his arms draped lazily over them, giving me a view of his arm and hand tattoos. He has 'love' and 'pain' tattooed across his knuckles; on his right hand, he has a rose, and on the left, he has a skull. My eyes follow up his arms looking at the artwork on them for a second before I rip them away and return my glare to him.

He said. I cursed myself and Chase for not having a ring on my hand. It'd have been so great to flash the rock in his face, have him know that I mattered to those who matter. But no part of me bore the evidence of someone, only my vajayjay. “I don't think there's more to know.” I shut him down. “Last I heard, you were doing drugs.” I added. “Well, you aren't so current.” He smiled. Kevin's facial bones were more defined, jutted more, made him look harder, and definitely hotter.

Trevor’s POV “You know this could’ve waited till tomorrow, right?” Kevin looks over his shoulder to where I’m walking behind him into the garage in his house which looks more like a workspace instead. “It couldn’t,” I say lazily, dipping both hands into the pockets of my sweatpants. Kevin has on something similar, only that his toned upper body is shirtless. Didn’t take him for a workout guy, but his physique is pretty impressive. The broken nose he gave me the day we sparred in the school gym has long healed, but it now explains why he had such a mean hit.

When I pushed open the heavy glass door of the Nightshade Tattoo Studio, the wind chime above it rang out in a crisp cascade of sound. Henry Kane sat on a tall stool behind the workstation, wearing a black mask as he lowered his head and sketched. The air-conditioning ran cold inside the shop, carrying a faint blend of disinfectant and sharp tobacco. It was an unmistakable scent that belonged only to him. At the sound, he did not even look up; only the pencil in his hand paused for a brief moment.

she hissed, voice raw, pressing closer, breasts grazing his chest, nipples hardening through her shirt, Luna’s fire screaming—taste him, own him. Kevin’s hands tore at her shirt, fabric shredding, falling to orchids, her skin glowing under moonlight, crescent tattoo blazing. His amber eyes raked her—full breasts, soft curves, scars like battle hymns—his breath ragged, tattoo pulsing like a drum. “Fucking perfect,” he growled, hands cupping her breasts, thumbs brushing peaks, drawing a moan, her body arching. His lips crashed to hers, savage, starving, tongue plunging, tasting wine, heat, her, teeth nipping, her growl vibrating against him, tattoos flaring—silver, red, a shared pulse.

The pain had now totally stopped. “The pain you were feeling was coming from the damn tattoo, Anna.” He walked away from her and started to check in the cabinets for something. “The tattoo artist probably messed up, and now it’s infected.” Kevin took out a bowl and a spoon from the cabinet. He then opened the other cabinet and took out a box of cereal along with a cart of milk. “It’s not infected,” She argued with him, causing him to laugh. But maybe it was a good thing. Maybe she should just lead him to believe what he already believed. He should not know about the crazy deal she had to make to bring their mom back from the dead.

“I’ve always had my suspicions from the day we met that you were a shifter.” Kevin detected a sneer in the curl of his lips as he said, “You’re under arrest, Mr Logan.” The dark-skinned bodyguard quickly moved to detain him, but Kevin resisted. Then his eyes fell on the tattoo peeking above his shirt. It was a drawing of two wolf's eyes. Kevin felt his heart racing in his chest. Why didn’t I think of this the whole time? His horror-filled gaze shifted from the bodyguard and focused on Lawrence, who sat with a calm expression.