Literary Tattoos For Book Lovers Novelas e Histórias

I didn't think that he was the reading type, so whatever he was reading must be so interesting and eye-catching. “Well, just reading books on the origin of our pack.” Ryder responded as I walked up to him. Getting closer to him, I stared at the book and saw a pictures too, but one of the pictures caught my attention the most. It was a picture of some people who had a tattoo of a golden griffin on their arms. “What does that signify?” I asked again, out of curiosity. “Well, it's the tattoo given to important people in this pack. You have the tattoo as well.”

All of them had a silver hue, yet it was clear that they were not crafted from actual silver. One had a small ruby, another had elegant cursive inscriptions, and another had delicate floral etchings. I couldn't help but admire the intricate artwork that adorned his arm, from his fingers all the way up to his wrist. "What is the significance of this?" I gently ran my fingers over one of the intricate tattoos on his arm. The elegant script, adorned with delicate vines, roses, and lotus flowers, intrigued me, even though I couldn't decipher the Greek letters.

My gorgeous yum-yum was dealing with so much by himself… Liam moved across to grab the salt and his shirt moved slightly, showing off some of his tattoos. He had some sort of symbols drawn across one side of his chest, but what intrigued me was the small picture of a bird sitting right above the symbols. A raven? Interesting tattoo for a wolf. I didn’t ask about it, it was clear Liam was a man of few to no words and with a very broody attitude. When we had finished eating, he ordered some more drinks and I realised he was trying to delay us leaving.

Her fingers trembled as she undid the last button, pushing the fabric aside to reveal my skin. "Greedy little virgin," I teased, but I shrugged off my shirt, exposing my tattooed chest—rippling muscles, scars from my rough past, all symbols of the darkness she was embracing. The ink swirled in intricate patterns: a snarling wolf on my pec, vines of thorns wrapping around my abs, each one a story of conquest and pain. Her eyes widened, fingers tracing the ink, sending shivers down my spine as her nails scraped lightly over a scar. "Touch all you want. But remember, this body is your master now. Every ridge, every scar—it's yours to worship, but only because I allow it."

With every lift of his arm, I noticed a different pattern of tattoos etched into his skin. “What do they mean?” I finally asked. “Hm?” “The tattoos on your arm,” I clarified softly. “You have a lot of them.” He shifted, sitting up slightly and taking me with him until I was straddling his lap, the sheets the only thing separating us. He pointed to a heart inked solid black, names etched into it. “For my brother and my father.” Then his finger moved lower, to two names framed by flames. “Aurora and Sophia.”

I said with a small smirk as I sat up, still holding her tightly. Her eyes glistened as she wrapped her arms around my neck tightly. "I love it." She said softly, kissing my lips before she looked down at my chest again. On my left breast, I had gotten a tattoo with the words ‘My Nympho Queen Kiara, ruler of my heart, body and soul’ Her fingers tenderly brushed over it. "I got the fuckers name too." I remarked, holding up my wrist, ‘Dante’ was written alongside one of my previous tattoos.

“Tattoos?” “Yes.” She crossed her arms. “Don’t tell me you’ve lived centuries and never gotten inked. Today’s the day. Come on.” He studied her for a long moment, lips twitching as if amused by her defiance. Then, to her shock, he set the book aside. “Fine. But you’re choosing the design. I’ll only allow you to brand me once.” …. The tattoo parlor smelled of antiseptic and ink. Chloe’s heart raced as she flipped through sketch books, finally settling on a delicate design: a small crescent moon entwined with a star.

It was colored black and red, as if blood was inside the glass, with a crown on top surrounded by thorns. I knew it. I had seen that tattoo before. “What’s this drawing, Aya?” I asked as I flipped through her sketchbook. She liked drawing sometimes when she got tired from studying. It was good that she had a creative outlet like this. Burnout was no joke. “Ah, it’s my girlfriend’s tattoo. It’s cool, right?” She smiled as she looked at the drawing. “That’s why the moment I saw it, I remembered it right away. The design is so unique. It looks intimidating as hell.”

The fiery burn lingered in my throat. "Nothing's wrong with being a gentleman, but pretending to be one just to impress women doesn't make you one." I smirked, taking another swig of whiskey. I surveyed his outfit, taking in every detail. He wore a vivid red shirt left open to showcase a muscular chest inked with a roaring lion whose fiery orange mane seemed to reach beyond his skin. Leonardo. Lion-hearted. That tattoo made perfect sense. A golden cross lay nestled atop the lion's mane, glinting in the light like a beacon of faith. It was clear that Leonardo wore his heart on his sleeve. His was a tattooed visual representation of his inner fire.

The tattoo, an indelible mark on his skin, became a symbol of our enduring connection, a visual anchor that soothed his mind in the midst of challenges. The evening breeze carried with it the echoes of our shared history, and in Logan's gaze, I found a reflection of a love that had weathered the tests of time and distance. The tattoo on his arm became not just an image but a testament to the resilience of our connection, a love story etched in ink and whispered confessions beneath the vast expanse of the night sky.