Risk Taker Tattoo Novels & Stories

As I’m sliding them on, Jack walks into the backyard and I freeze when I see the snake tattoo up his side, the skull on his left peck and the scorpion on the other one. Individually these tattoos are fairly common, but how many people have all three in those same spots? Because JackDaddy21, my highest paying client, does. And his name is Jack. There’s no fucking way that’s a coincidence. No no no no no no. This is not happening. I’m gonna vomit.

that's what I'm best at doing. "Okay so here's the thing, if anyone ask who we are, just say you came to pick up your bosses stuffs,now the main thing is to take down any person with a scorpion tattoo on the wrist or neck, those guys have some shitty business that they're on for. This old billionaire is coming through that harbour any time from now, and they plan on assassinating him, all the security guards on the dock is for us so you have nothing to worry about, so as soon as the ship reaches here, shoot anyone you see with the tattoo, got it?", Tonia asked. We nodded.

“Normally our warriors have had a year or two to find their mates. Giving it to someone who hasn’t yet come of age is… unorthodox. However, my commanders and I feel the risk of having you in the field without the tracking ability the tattoo provides is too high. Having spoken to the witch whose magic is within the tattoo, she believes it won’t cause any permanent issue with your future bond.” He folds his hands, eyes steady on mine. “Nevertheless, I want to ask your permission before we continue.” Am I supposed to say no? As if I’d ever say no to this. “What are the risks of getting it?” I ask, buying myself a few seconds. “We don’t know,” he says honestly. “Most likely there are no risks or

James was a little laid-back and usually liked to take risk and have fun, Jaden on the other hand was more of a mature person and took everything very seriously. Sometimes when they were busy they would leave a note or inform her prior hand so that she would not go downstairs in their absence just in case she would come face-to-face with someone like Albert. There was always a lot going on in the mafia house which meant nobody paid attention if she was downstairs there but they didn't want to take any risk.

“Yeah? Maybe once my ass is healed you can turn the puncture wound into one of them cool, fake bullet holes you see on motorcycles and pickup tailgates.” “Please. I’m an artiste. I have something way better in mind. Something hip-fun-sexy-cool.” Suspicion clouded Colt’s face. “I already told you. You ain’t tattooing the area around my nipples. Ever.” “But this new pattern is so awesome. Turquoise and orange outlined in black and red, that looks like flames—” “No way, no how.” “Just hear me out.” “Dammit, Indy, I said no. Why are you so dang fired up about doin’ this?”

Families would break, heart will shatter, anger will build, hatred will rule, lies would laugh, bond will lose, all this for uncontrollable genitals. Was it worth it? He didn't know if he was able to take this risk or not. She looked ready to bare all this. But he couldn't believe someone could go this far for him. He loosen her grip on his hand, took her wedding band and placed it back in her fingers. Was this the only way to seal a promise?

“is just for fun.” Heat climbed up my neck. “And what’s the fun one supposed to mean?” “You’d have to find out for yourself.” His voice dipped low again, and I swore my heart skipped. One of his friends Ryan grin leaned in then, resting an elbow on the table. “You’re not the only one with ink worth showing off,” he said, tugging up his own sleeve. The tattoo was intricate, swirling with roses and blades, like beauty tangled with danger. The other two joined in, each showing me their designs a phoenix across one’s back that peeked over his collar, a serpent winding down another’s arm in precise, dangerous curves.

Like they belonged. “Damn,” Lance muttered quietly. “That’s actually insane.” The artist just smiled a little. “Scars make the best tattoos. They already tell a story.” After everything was wrapped and cleaned, Lance paid, thanked him, and walked outside. Ragnar was leaning against the car, arms crossed, waiting. He looked up when Lance approached. “Well?” Ragnar asked. Lance didn’t answer immediately. He just held out his arm. Ragnar grabbed his wrist gently and turned his arm slightly to look at the tattoo.

He suddenly didn’t know what was worse—his dilemma or the fact that he was pushing Raeya away. Ryder was known for two things—his strength as the Roar and his ten-year long contract with Raeya. In Khenealm, you were defined by the marks tattooed on your body. One is your affiliation, a mark that has the symbol for the company that you work for. Another is your sigil partner’s emblem, something that will be embedded on your skin for life until the contract is done. It is where your personal emblem, a representation of your life will be on the palm of your partner.

“You own this place, right?” “Yep.” “You do any of your own tattoos?” “No. Mine have all been done by other people.” She reached out to trace one of his tattoos with a forefinger. He was so surprised that he didn’t even move away at first. “I like this one,” she said, running her fingers over the number ‘75’ on his Ranger’s tattoo. “You were a Ranger for real?” He jerked back. “Yeah. For real.” “No shit.” She smiled, slow and sexy. “That’s hot.”