Novel & Cerita Loyalty Ride Or Die Tattoos

I said, restraining tears from finding their way out of my eyes. “Alpha, I promise to be the best right-hand man, by your side. I pledge my loyalty to you, and to prove that…” Diego took a knife from one of the men, and cut himself on his arm, then he inscribed the letter “S” on his arm. “It is a sign that would always remind me of my loyalty to you.” He said, with confidence. I was touched with his readiness to serve me. I guess Leo’s spirit had led him to me. Then I patted him, and nodded.

Malachi said and smiled at me. Marcus came toward me and we shook hands. The other man, Steve, stood next to James and he took out his rotary machine and laid his equipment neatly on the table next to the portable bed. When they finished with their equipment, they told us to lie down. The rotary machine made a soft whirring sound and Marcus started below my neck, in the middle of my spine. Each wolf pack had their own symbology and designs they used and tradition played a big role. The four types of tattoos were the Alpha tattoo, the Beta tattoo, the Zeta tattoo, and the member tattoo.

“I plan to tattoo a Koru on you. It’s a sort of spiral that’s part of Māori culture, and in New Zealand, it means new life, growth, strength, and peace. They made bone sculptures with this symbol that were used as pendants for necklaces. The bone, when worn, changes color. And for the Māori, it meant that a part of a person's spirit entered the pendant. Sometimes it was given to another person, as if to transmit a part of one's happiness.” James takes off his shirt and shows me his right shoulder. “I had it done by Sky last week. Mine is a way to transmit my happiness and love to you.” He puts his shirt back on—what a shame—and turns back to me. “And also a bit of bad luck, since you manage

I couldn’t falter; I wouldn’t let him bleed out on my floor, not when every heartbeat felt like a silent plea for survival. I settled onto the cold linoleum, my heart pounding as I locked my gaze on his battered body. Every inch of him told a story, each tattoo a chapter of pain and survival. The bold double DD letters sprawled across his knuckles caught my eye first, a stark contrast against the bruises and blood. A tree, strong yet fragile, adorned his left forearm, whispering secrets of resilience, while the wave-like patterns on his ribcage danced dangerously close to his deep, ragged wound. But it was the quote etched on his right forearm that pulled at my heartstrings, resonating with

A smile paints onto my face as I answer. "Yes, I'm alive." I say, laughing into the phone. "I had to call and make sure." Kyla says, laughing back. "Did you make sure to get your tattoo the other day?" she asks. "Yeah, it's already healed up pretty well." I say feeling behind my ear. I had to get a tattoo of the mafia crest to signify my place in the mafia. Kyla did the same in the same place to let it be known that she mine and that she's the Queen. Once our children turn seventeen, they'll get one too, in the same place. Everyone else who isn't a Reed by blood has the same tattoo on their wrists. If it fades, we get it filled. Just a mark of loyalty is all.

My hair is down my back in waves, covering the exposed skin. When I look down the dress, I can see the black ink of the tattoo I had done in the month that Dalon and I hadn’t spoken. I had wanted a permanent reminder of him and our time together. A reminder that Italy wasn’t just some dream. The tattoo is simple, but the meaning behind it is powerful. The tattoo is a sun with a moon inside it to symbolize two opposite worlds coming together in the most unexpected but beautiful ways. Like an eclipse that is so rare, but so powerful and beautiful to witness.

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.

She might not be able to handle it. "Wow, those markings on your shoulders, right? They say Lycans and werewolves are the most loyal because many of you can't handle it when the bond is broken. And if your fated mate dies, some of you weaken and die too," Mainard commented, and Elara nodded in agreement.

I bow my head, pretend to focus on the screen. "You were staring," he says in a low, amused voice. He leans against my desk, arms crossed, towering over me. "My tattoos interest you?" I shake my head, too quickly. "No, I… it's nothing." He chuckles softly. "Liar." He pulls up the left sleeve of his t‑shirt, revealing more of the raven and other symbols: a miniature cathedral, eight‑pointed stars, Cyrillic numbers. "Every design has a story. The raven… it's for memory. For those we've lost, but never forget. The stars are rank. The cathedral… the faith you keep even when everything else goes to hell."

“I’ll take the ride.” ****** The car ride is quiet. Too quiet. For a moment I begin to regret my decision of accepting to ride with him. Was I scared? No. But there was something odd about him. I sit beside him, my hands resting on my laps and my mind racing with too many thoughts. Then my eyes suddenly drift towards him. To his hands. His arms. To the tattoo- My eyes drift closely to his tattoos. That symbol. A triangle. Not just one. But three triangles interlocked together.