Romans & histoires Oblivion Tattoos

AJ was one of my first partners in crime, back when we were teens. "Uptown. Glad to be back, no lie," I roll my sleeves up to my elbow and unbutton my shirt to mid chest, making sure that all of my ink is on display. In this world, these tattoos are an important part of our identity. Each tat has a meaning. The vines are for my crew, each thorn a successful mission. One little rosebud for Livy, when I took her into my home. A large cross across my chest for my parents, a bleeding heart for my sister Jane.

Saint was about to look away grudgingly when Nicholas's towel lowered itself and then fell to the floor, revealing a tattoo. His gaze snagged on it before he could even stop himself. The tattoo rested low on Nicholas's back, directly above his waist. The design climbed the base of his spine in elegant black lines. Sharp points and sweeping curves intertwined around a narrow central shape that resembled a watchful eye. Thorn-like flourishes stretched outward before curling back in on themselves, giving the impression of something dangerous held barely under control.

In his right hand, he held the familiar silver dagger, its blade gleaming dangerously. But as the rebel assassin took a step toward my bed, his left hand reached up to his own collar. With a slow, deliberate motion, he pulled the fabric down, exposing his spine to the mirror on the wall behind him. My breath completely trapped itself in my throat, and my heart stopped dead in my chest. There, seared into the skin of the ruthless Omega rebel's back, was a glowing, crimson brand. A perfect, permanent tattoo of my own true initials. MW.

Their eyes glimmered with a malefic light, revealing their true nature as they prepared to unleash chaos upon the unsuspecting nation. The Black Wolves bore a distinct mark of their predatory nature. Etched upon their bodies, each member possessed a sinuous tattoo, resembling a coiled serpent with piercing crimson eyes. The mark adorned their bare arms, a visible symbol of their allegiance to the pack and their dedication to the impending destruction they sought.

Eventually my brother also got dragged into the conversation and blamed for the tattoo just as he had been blamed for the first one. Speaking of my beautiful little brother I glanced down the other end of the bar where Mark was talking to Mitch and a couple of his biker buddies and stared at his right arm where the other half of my money had gone. Like mine Mark's tattoo covered his arm from shoulder to elbow and was an evil version of the great god Pan. This wasn't the silly looking Greek Pan, this was the original Celtic version complete with horns, hooves, red glaring eyes and a long horn that called to all the lost souls. Between the size, the colors and of course Mark's extremely well m

“Unless you choose otherwise.” “And Tate?” Azraeth’s smile turned vicious. “Will wish he’d never been born. I promise you, he will suffer beautifully for what he did.” I took a shaky breath. This was insane. Absolutely insane. But what did I have to lose? “One year,” I said. “And you make him pay.” “Deal.” Oberin’s hand shot out, gripping my wrist. Heat flared where he touched me, and I watched in shock as a mark appeared on my inner forearm—an intricate symbol that looked like a cross between a mark and a brand, glowing faintly crimson before fading to black.

I blush realizing he is talking about my mark from Freya, as Osric pats my back with a nod. “It’s good to see you and Liliana happy with Freya, she is good for you two,” Osric softly speaks as he rocks Roan, pouring himself some whiskey. “It’s good to feel the bond being so complete, I can’t imagine how you and Embry dealt with not having Raven at first, and missing Jonathan. What is Raven getting tattooed?” I question while downing my tumbler of whiskey, and Osric smirks. “It was hard being patient and waiting for them, but it is always worth the wait. She is getting a red raven done out of Viking knots in honor of our victory against Orin,” Osric answers, making me nod as it sounds like a

When they’d drafted the terms in ink, never once mentioning what it really meant. This wasn’t about affection. It wasn’t even about heirs. It was about obedience. Breeding. Binding. Blood. She stared, frozen. The girl on screen sagged, losing consciousness. And then—the man turned toward the camera. For one moment, light caught his jaw just right. And Leora saw it. A tattoo. Small. Black. Etched into the skin just below his ear. A serpent devouring its own tail. Ouroboros. She’d seen it before.

I saw an elaborate tattoo on his right arm. I sucked in my breath. I never knew we could get such pretty tattoos made. There was an intricate pattern of olive leaves, in the shape of a lily and nestled in between were multi-colored hearts, similar to my Alexart. The hearts glowed in the sunlight giving it a surreal appearance. When did Aaron get this tattoo? I couldn’t have missed such an exquisite tattoo, could I? “ How!!!” I whispered. “ He is not Aaron, he is a form shifter,” Eva said turning towards me.

Gildeon followed his gaze and saw a strange sigil glowing faintly beneath the skin. But something else drew Gildeon’s attention. An owl tattoo on the other arm. The design was almost identical to Arah’s—stylized in the same way. It wasn’t a sigil, but real ink. When Gildeon activated his dragon vision, it shimmered faintly with blue light. Magical. And familiar. “Captain,” Eitan said, hesitant, “should we kill him?” Gildeon glanced at Yadira. Her beast form was locked in fury, but he shook his head.