Porco Rosso Tattoo Novels & Stories

"Nothing's more interesting than a beautiful woman who craves danger. Or don’t you agree with me, Lorenzo?" He took a sip of his drink, and I saw that he had a rose tattoo on his left hand, that his jet-black hair was pulled back with gel, and that there were a few sparse hairs on his forehead that were dozing. His all-black suit appeared to be hand-tailored. Elegant and young

My gaze drifted unconsciously to his collarbone. There was a new tattoo there. Red, still swollen from being freshly inked, but unmistakable. It was my name. The characters were rendered in the most ancient, wild cursive form of script, like an old, binding sigil. My fingers trembled as I touched it. “When did you… get this?” Henry caught my hand and rubbed it gently against his palm. “Last night, after you fell asleep.” “Did it hurt?” “It was better that it hurt.” His eyes darkened, and a satisfied smile curved his lips.

he bared his fangs. Portia's face grew weary as her eyes darted, "No need to threaten me, Wayne. I know what you had to go through to steal this ring away, from what I can feel the portal is still intact. Can you take off your shirt and show your runes to me?" she persuaded. He silently removed his trench coat, casting it aside, and he pulled off his black turtle neck shirt. Then turned around to show her his back. At the upper expanse of his back, black symbols were finely tattooed across it.

Then he tossed it onto the boat seat like it was the most normal thing in the world. I didn’t even get the chance to roll my eyes because...yeah. That tattoo. The deep black phoenix stretched across the side of his chest and his left arm. Mix of abstract design, Russian calligraphy, ancient symbols, and fragments of sentences I’d read years ago and still remembered. Max looked at his dad in awe. “Daddy, why’d you take your shirt off?” “So I can move easier,” Pascha said casually. “Like a fish?” Max asked. “Like a shark,” Mischa answered.

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

My blood ran cold. That totem was identical to the unique mark on Rocco's chest, the one that represented our eternal Mate Bond. Only true mates received such a mark—a symbol of blended souls, a lifelong promise. And now, she had tattooed it onto her own skin. And Rocco had allowed it. I put down my phone and called the pack's tattoo artist. "Luna Caterina? It's so late. Is everything alright?" Samuel, the artist, sounded exhausted. "Samuel, I need to book an appointment for a tattoo removal."

he greets, and I can tell it's Riccardo. Good thing I'm able to differentiate them with their personalities. “Hey,” I say softly, trying not to melt at how his dark curls fall over his forehead. He's in a gray tank top and shorts, muscles carved and glistening. I study the tattoo on his body for easy identification next time. He has a black and red snake wrapped around a dagger tattoo on the inside of his biceps. It coils perfectly with his muscles, the head of the snake near his wrist. It's sleek, dangerous and oddly elegant…just like him.

I said as he pulled me closer and hugged me, slapping me on the back. “Let’s get you branded,” he said proudly and smiled at me. “Any specific request for your Alpha tattoo?” Rory, the pack’s tattooist and a Zeta, asked me. “Lightning,” I said and he smiled as he looked at my arm when I took my jacket and shirt off.

Scar kissed her neck softly as she traced every line of the ink as if she was re-inking them herself. A large skull was surrounded by an array of roses. A Christian cross in the back, behind the skull, stuck out to Lani because of the dove perched on it so innocently. Scar's tattoos were a mixture of dark and light, they described him perfectly. The same happened on his arms, one was decorated with the ideas of Satan, the other those of holy angels.

Instead, the place where the tattoo should’ve been was reddish and wrinkled—a common effect of tattoo removal. “Con il sangue, veniamo. Con il sangue, andiamo,” Val mumbled. “With blood, we come. With blood, we go.” I met her gaze. “This, my dear, is the Omerta tattoo of Cosa Nostra.” She swiped the image to Domenico’s. A very shirtless Domenico. I had never met Domenico Guerra upfront, but I had gotten a good idea of how he looked. If he and Adonis walked into the room, all eyes would turn to Domenico first before moving to Adonis. It was not to say that Adonis was less handsome, but there was something about Domenico that could steal the spotlight. And the same was with his sister.