Risk Taker Tattoo Novels & Stories

Minutes after Danica worked out of the airport, a convoy pulled over and a lot of men stepped out of the car. People came to a halt instantly, knowing that they were either there to escort someone in or escort someone out. Whoever it was had to be very rich with the flit of current cars lined up and men whose aura and build spoke of nothing but danger. Dressed in formal attires of black suits, shades and comms in their ears, they looked more like assassins than guards. All tall and huge to a fault, they looked both ravishing and dangerous to the core. The kind of danger that pulled women close. It was almost irresistible and it made them all frantic and excited to know who was coming or who

I smiled, though my body trembled slightly with unease. He smirked, his eyes darkening as he sauntered towards me. Slowly, he reached out, invading my space. My gaze drifted to his chest, where intricate tattoos sprawled across his skin, half of his left chest completely inked. There was a large python coiled menacingly, its fangs bared as if ready to strike. Surrounding it were other symbols—a bleeding dagger, an intricate skull wrapped in thorns, and a blood moon rising behind them all. The ink seemed almost alive, dark and haunting, like it held secrets too dangerous to reveal. I had seen something like this before. The imagery was disturbing, almost as if he were part of some secretive c

There is no point in doing anything right now so I keep quiet. The whole place is filled with scary-looking tattoed dudes. Bored, I started noticing the scary guy's tattoos. It's a skull, a red skull with wings and a cross. The tattoo is bright and dull at the same time. The cross it clutches seems more like a trophy than a symbol of hope, stained with a history whispered only in faded scars. Bright and dull, a paradox mirroring the struggle between survival and surrender. Art sure is fascinating. Someone walked up to him just then. He looks me up and down, "who is this, chick."

“The Henchmen have been a big part of your life. As long as you stay committed to the Valkyrie, I don’t have a problem with it.” He looked shocked. “Babe, choice is a big thing around here. I don’t expect people to hide their past, and we’re all accepting of what people have done to get to where they are. I especially don’t make everyone get exactly the same tattoo. If you look around, only Karma and Fishnet have exactly the same tattoo as I do, and that was because they wanted to do it. Everyone else’s is considerably smaller.” “You really do run a unique outfit here, don’t you, my Duchess,” he smiled.

He asked as he breathed out his smoke. I take off my jacket and my shirt to show him my tattoo of the Criemsons. The tattoo shows a blood sword that encircles with vipers and roses that symbolizes our gang or mafia name. I swiveled to indicate my identity while his ladies gape at me like the last cupcake in a bakery they wanted to devour. "Holy mother of great mercy" He grinned. "Now can we converse interaction?" I asked before I put my clothes in and I know his kittens will groan for consuming clothes.

Something about the adrenalin of the tattoo gun I guess. I did get a tattoo added for Roxie in the end. It took me a while to think about what I wanted but in the end I had a twisting, mixed up lightning bolt. Not a cheesy, pointy outline, but the crackling, thin shards that splinter across a dark sky. It is on the side of my ribs, surrounded by the constellations of the Fyrestone compound.

He also loves showing off his tattoos – he has tribal tattoos all over his chest and arms. Tattoos aren’t fun at the best of times, but they’re more painful for us wolves. We heal too fast and don’t scar easily so the only way to get tattoos is to use a tattoo gun made with pure silver because any injury caused by silver once healed leaves a scar. Gamma James’ tattoos are basically a giant warning sign screaming ‘I’m dangerous and pain means nothing to me.’ “Just once I wish my old man would wear a shirt,” whispers a voice beside me and I have to stifle a chuckle.

"All the brigadiers and lieutenants have arrived, Pakhan. They all are waiting for you. As per your order, the official tattoo artist is here too." Aleksandr nodded while Aria frowned at the information. "Tattoo artist?" She asked her husband. "Yes, if you had been my wife only, there would have been no need for a tattoo but you want to be a power partner. It means you are officially joining Bratva. This tattoo is going to be your crown, Aria. This is your last chance, if you want to back out do it now, because the tattoo is sacred. You have to wear it whole your life like a religious sign "

Paul added, obviously uncomfortable with the tears. I covered my whole face as I hunched over slightly, sobbing into them. A sign of an elite warrior, one that had been trained and passed their tests, was a tattoo. It spread from shoulder, across the back and to the other shoulder. Each one was slightly different, tailored to the warrior but within a pack, there was always a specific design. It meant the world to me that they would gift me this. “Skylar.” Someone took my hands and held them. Carl was on one knee in front of me. He was smiling as reached up and brushed tears from my cheek.

I said while looking at the tattoo samples. Finally, Aaron appeared after a few minutes. "Alpha, Hector, it's been a while. What are we adding? Aside from fear to the list?" he chuckled, glancing at me. Standing up, I said, "I want this one," pointing at a picture of a tribal band tattoo with a wolf's face. As Hector nodded in approval, he smiled, "I think you've made an excellent choice. Let's get started," he said.