Morgan Brennan Tattoo Novels & Stories

“And today’s business was…mafia business?” “A bit of both, but I can’t say much about it for now,” I admit, then I point to my left shoulder. “The eight-pointed stars tattooed on my shoulders is a Bratva insignia. You’ll see most of my men with the same tattoo, although I’m the only one with the same stars tattooed on my knees.” She’s quiet for a few seconds as she seems to be thinking it over, then she lays back and sighs. “That indicates that you’re in a higher position?” she asks, and I nod. “Ah, okay.”

“I’m happy to set up appointments for you when you get back.” “Really?” Les’s eyes light up. “Sure.” Bronx shrugs. “With as many pack members as we have getting tattoos, I put him on salary.” “That would be great, Bronx. Thank you.” Les bows slightly. “I’ll let the girls know.” “One thing though…” Bronx puts a finger in the air. “The tattoo you already have. The rose and dagger. My sister had the same one. Like, exactly the same, except hers was larger than yours. I was wondering how you ended up with that design?”

Liliana compliments, standing beside me with Anarchy in her arms. “Thank you, I’m excited to teach Raven. I’ve been tattooing our kind for about a century now, practice makes perfect,” Ares admits while reaching out tracing part of Benjamins tattoo, making him flinch not expecting the touch. “What’s wrong little man?” Embry questions making me look over at to see Gunnar in his arms, squirming out of his blanket as he whimpers. “What is it, Bubba?” I question while brushing my fingers across Gunnar’s hot cheek, making me smile seeing his blue eyes glow.

Flynn was helping me, as much as in the near future he would become a painful ghost of my past, so far he was my anchor. Distractedly, I looked down at the direction of my left shoulder, where there was a tattoo on my body, a small bird that flew over an anchor, rising more and more. The first tattoo I got when I arrived in the city, when I freed myself from my past and my traumas. In addition to her there was another one, on my right wrist; a tombstone written "Not today", whose drawing covered one of the marks of my worst past traumas.

How I wished Mark wouldn't hang around with that jerk. As I finished my drink I put the glass down and looking in the mirror across from me admired where half of that $500 had gone. I was wearing a sleeveless low cut red blouse and from the tip of my shoulder all the way down to my elbow was an enormous tattoo of the Greek gorgon Medusa. The tattoo had been done in black and emerald green and the coils of her serpentine body wrapped around the inside of my arm as well. I smiled at my reflection; Medusa had taken almost five hours but had been worth every minute and every penny. It goes without saying that my parents were not happy. Mom simply gave me a disgusted head shake and said that I wa

“Not us. Not their usual admin. I’m still tracing the signature, but odds are good. You weren’t the only one interested in Lot Seventeen—or in her.” Damian’s gaze stays on the still. She looks like trouble in every way that matters. “Any luck on the tattoo?” he asks. Nolan swipes to a zoomed still of her wrist, red light washing over a faintly stylized **M**. “The closest match I can find is an old downtown crew insignia,” Nolan says. “Could be tied to one of the legacy families. Moretti, Marchetti, half a dozen others who played in the same mud back in the day.”

"The tattoo behind your ear, that's to cover the mark my daughter gave you, right? It's not really to cover it, but to bind it. You've also marked Noreen. I saw it behind Noreen's ear." Thiery stared at Maria intently. "You... Which pack are you from, Ma'am?" Maria opened the long sleeve of her blouse, revealing a tattoo of a moon with a lightning bolt crossing it on the inside of her arm, just below the elbow. "Ah," Thiery said. "I see."

Then, I saw him standing by a door to a room, or somewhere. He had taken off his shirt. His upper body appeared bigger. They were tattoos all over his back, his trousers hung low on his waist, dangerously low. I could run my hands through this type of body all day without getting tired. He was receiving a phone call. He was immensely focused. I stood still, waiting for him to finish. His words didn’t make sense at first, until it got to the part where he said: “She doesn’t know a thing. I have it all under control… In the end everything will be mine.” His words made me tremble.

His lips touching my skin like if he doesn’t kiss me his life will end. The bite sent my body shaking unable to hold in all the pleasure. I still feel it when I think about it. My new tattoo is everything I wanted it to be. “N” covered in fur with Blue Moon behind it. A “V” covered in fur with a Blue Moon behind it is being added to Nathan’s collarbone. “Everyone is going to wonder why a V and not a T,” I tease him. “You are getting my common name on you.”

He took out a piece of paper from his pocket and placed it on the table. “There isn't anything about this group or activities except for the name and the tattoo. But there might be something that might help us get information.” He slid a picture to me. “A 32-year-old homeless drunk with the exact tattoo of the Raven Syndicate spotted in Miami. I will go there tomorrow and find out more.” I looked at the picture of the man and properly looked at the tattoo. It was the same tattoo. A black raven in flight in a small, circular ink mark behind his ear. It would have been hard to miss it the way the picture was snapped.