Literary Tattoos For Book Lovers Novels & Stories

“I’m here for a tattoo.” He leaned back, arms folding across his broad chest. The motion made the fabric of his shirt strain. “You? A tattoo?” He laughed, low and cruel. “Let me guess. Tiny heart on your wrist? Or maybe a quote about ‘strength’ in some flowery script so everyone knows how deep you are.” I pulled out my phone and showed him the design. “Lower back. Crescent moon with vines. I have the reference.”

Resisting the urge to roll my eyes, I avoided them, starting from the coffee table and the stacks of books positioned on it. I smiled when I touched the books, looking forward to reading something here on the cream-colored rugs. But the smile dropped from my lips when I took in the titles of the books. ‘How to care for a Ducati.’ ‘Piercings and their Post Care.’ ‘The Symbolic Nature of Tattoos.’

Pronounced jaws. And the tattoos. The tattoos couldn't be ignored. Black ink decorated every part of his neck, trailing down to his back that held the mark of the Order while his chest held the one he treasured the most. Some part of the tattoo even showed as the first three buttons of his shirt were off, his black waistcoat hugging his perfect figure. Paride looked like the Angel of Death. Slowly, he placed the book with the name 'A Thousand Ways to Torture A Person While Keeping Them Awake.' and waved a hand in the air, causing a man that stood in the corner of his office walk towards the blond one, a poker expression on his face.

It's damn beautiful. "Actually, I wanted to engrave everything with gold but only could do our couple nickname." Yeah, IraNa is engraved with gold. There is a quote on it. 'TWO SOULS INTERTWINED, WHISPERS OF A FOREVER KIND OF LOVE. IN YOUR EMBRACE, I'VE FOUND MY HOME, WHERE OUR LOVE LEAVES AN ETERNAL MARK.' I look into her eyes. "Since when did you become so poetic?" I pull her closer and place my lips on her neck.

I loved that he didn’t shave or wax all the way… it seemed more manly to me, plus it was soft to the touch and I couldn’t wait to feel more. He had tattoos, but he wasn’t tatted out like I had expected from a biker. He had the Dogs of Fire logo on his inner forearm, and that same arm was sleeved up to his shoulder. The other arm was also sleeved, but ended at the elbow. Down his left side and slightly across his ribs was a black and white tattoo of the lily flower with the word “Lily” interwoven in the design.

Scarlett’s POV The brass key felt heavier every time I touched it. Its teeth were carved with a symbol of a coiled serpent biting its tail. The same mark that had appeared in the margins of my father’s journal. Damien watched me from the driver’s seat as rain slid down the windshield. The storm outside was the kind that turned cities into ghosts, streetlights blurred, windows shuddered. I traced the serpent mark with my thumb. “This isn’t just a key,” I said quietly. “It’s a message.”

It made me want to reach out and trace the hard lines as well as the tattoos on it. He turned slightly and I caught sight of the rest of his body. The tattoo also covered the left side of his chest, black ink used to drag large wings. It was a raven, it was so detailed down to the sharp talons and the glint of its beady eyes. There were other drawings like a rose with the letter “E”. What does that mean? Family? Or perhaps..a lover? For some reason that thought made me bitter. Beneath it was a phrase written in Latin that flowed into his ribs.

His eyes lit up as he asked, “You ready?” I gave a small nod as his hand went to lift the blanket. I peered down and he unveiled my tattoos. Blackened licorice vines weaving into intricate braids. Obsidian ropes wound down my inner thighs, cloaking the scars. Ombre lilies of orange and yellow flaunted in random sequence. Gilded green leaves flitted against my flesh, their color radiating against the darkened vines. The words silenced… like it never happened. “Beautiful,” Kaia’s voice resonated.

They drove in comfortable silence with occasional bursts of chatter and after an hour or so, they had finally arrived at their destination. Steve kept shifting his glance, tapping his foot looking every bit as nervous as he felt and Liza couldn't help but find it cute. Their destination was in a secluded part, a little way from the highway but still full of life. People called it 'Literature Lane', which could only be described as a festival of literature. There were huge banners of books and below those banners, people were enacting scenes from books or were reciting them, she also a book discussion group somewhere. The books were from almost all the genres, from classics to contemporary, p

She felt his love, his devotion, his fierce, protective hunger, pouring into her through that single point of contact. The stone flared brightly, and when it faded, it was gone. In its place, on her wrist, was a mark—a delicate, silver tattoo of interlocking wolves, their forms spiraling into an infinity symbol. It glowed faintly for a moment, then settled into her skin, a permanent, beautiful declaration. Dante lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to the mark. When he looked up, his eyes were bright with something that might have been tears. "Mine," he breathed, the word no longer a claim, but a prayer.