Literary Tattoos For Book Lovers の小説・ストーリー

“I’m going to have to agree to the fucking tattoo she wants me to get.” “She wants you to get a tattoo?” I asked. This was news to me. Kam sat up and nodded. “It’s one of the things she likes from her books. When two wolves mate, they bite each other and leave a mark on the base of the neck. She wants to get matching tattoos since there’s no magical healing in real life.” I had to laugh at that. “That is so, I was going to say ridiculous, but it’s actually kinda cute! Are you that serious about Rose?”

"Where was this during my high school English Literature class?" Laughing, Kaida glanced at the page, but her grin immediately fell. Scrawled in quill ink was the image of the dagger she'd seen tattooed on the man in the hotel room. Below it was a few sentences about the Brethren of Venatores. She quickly read, but none of it was intel they didn't already have via Ceara or Fiona. Brady turned the page, but a spell was on the next one. Nothing more. "Are you able to add to the book?"

I've missed them a lot! Please check out my other book, "Spirals:Tattoo in my mind" while you wait. Thanks a lot for understanding 😊 ~~ Love Marvy-dee

He can’t spare me, no matter how compliant I am. He stands from the bed and removes every piece of clothing from his body. The tattoos expand from his chest to his stomach, down to his strong torso. Black ink against his tanned skin. There are so many things written in Russian. But one particular thing catches my eye, it’s on his left torso, big and clear, “ To forgive is to sin.” The words send shivers racing down my spine. Who on earth writes something like that on their body? Not just write, but brand it into their skin permanently.

“If I did, I wouldn’t have fallen in love with you.” He grins, leans in and kisses my lips and when he pulls away, his hand, fondle my left breast, making my legs go weak. “Most of my tattoos I used to cover up my scar so they don’t have any meaning, while others like the write up have a few meanings.” “What does this say, then?” I ask, my hand dropping to the part under his chest having a foreign language. “It’s not in English,” I add. He chuckles, plucking at my nipple in his hand. “It’s not.” he agrees, and eyes then drop to where my hand is, “It says whatever it takes. It’s in Latin, and that’s why you can’t read it.”

Esmeray held her forearm up, examining the intricate tattoo that adorned her skin. The tattoo depicted a majestic wolf, its eyes fierce and determined, surrounded by swirling patterns that seemed to dance with a life of their own. The lines were bold and precise, giving the impression of strength and resilience. “This tattoo is so unique,” Esmeray remarked, tracing her fingers over the contours of the design. “I’ve always felt a connection to it, but I never knew why.”

" Devon was still in disbelief, his eyes as wide as they could be. The fact that Bienley had gone and gotten himself a tattoo was mind-blowing enough, but it was no ordinary tattoo. There, on Bienley's back, was a masterpiece. Their names, "Bienley" and "Devon", were intricately etched, as if they were part of a beautiful, ethereal story. And woven around them was a delicate string of feathers, each one seemingly fluttering in a gentle breeze, as if carrying their love on its wings.

Fire and stone, pup—stand tall. The peak sang—jasmine swirled, runes glowed, pines whispered, the wind’s ash a warning. Sam’s tattoo glowed, Kevin’s ring her strength, Mara’s cord her edge, Lila’s scrolls her guide, Cora’s visions her heart, Tess’s fire her shield, the pups’ chains her future. The Iron Veil was dust, but a bone shadow stirred, its ash a whisper, the Dawn Pack’s fire eternal, their howl a defiance under a crescent poised for war.

The lights flickered. “Do you feel that?” she whispered. Kian’s jaw tightened. “Keep going.” Her tattoos — the ones across her own arms — began to shimmer faintly through the gloves. The crescent on her wrist pulsed in sync with the design she was drawing on him. “Stop,” Kian said suddenly, voice rough. “That’s enough.” She lifted the needle. The symbol was unfinished, but it glowed faintly before fading into his skin. “What the hell was that?” she demanded.

I tucked them behind my ear and glanced at Tom. He leaned casually against the wall, the moonlight accentuating the sharp angles of his jaw. His messy black hair fell across his forehead, making him look even more irresistible. “Then tell me,” Tom coaxed, a teasing grin spreading across his face. “You can’t call me your boyfriend if you keep your sexual fantasies from me.” I inhaled deeply, my pulse quickening. Tilting my head back, I bit gently on my lower lip before meeting his gaze again. Excitement sparkled in my eyes.