Ronnie Radke Tattoos Novels & Stories

And apparently, he knew how to do a tattoo with ashes in the ink. Like the other veterans from his pack that had gone, he was a little surprised to find out that ashes from Duke and Rory were in their tattoos. And now she was getting Marley done the same way. Celeste was wearing a halter top that showed off her back piece. The Silver Lake Pack Crest was on her right shoulder blade, the Marine Corps Pack Crest in the center and she had already talked to the artist about putting his Crest on the left. Beneath that were Angel wings with a silver and black wolf between them. He assumed this was in tribute to Angel.

Her eyes were red and puffy as she covered her face. "Raine, don't do anything stupid." Charlie reached for her, and as she moved, a tattoo peeked out from her collar—a sleek arrow with a bold C inked into it. Something clicked. Charlie had a similar tattoo on his chest, a Cupid-like design. When I asked about it, he brushed it off. Just for fun, he'd said. He always swore Raine was like a sister.

“It wouldn’t fix the wolfsbane.” “But it means she would heal, right?” He nods. Ryker pulls up his sleeve, exposing a tattoo of a hawk that wraps around his forearm. “Do it.” He says. “Take as much as you need.” “You don’t need to…” I begin but he silences me with a look.

Between them, in elegant black script, sat the tattoo: CW His striking glassy gray eyes darkened as he stared. “There’s another one,” I said, voice turning low and teasing. “On my hip bone. Want to see that too?” He nodded once. I stood, unzipped the prison trousers, and nudged them down just enough to reveal the smooth skin of my hip. The second tattoo read CROWE in the same beautiful lettering, right above the delicate line of my v-cut. “I can’t see it properly,” Ryker murmured, his voice dropping. “Come closer.”

His fingernails were painted black, and his face closely shaved. Rhett had pulled his hair back into a ponytail, exposing the tattoo of the Triquetra on the point of his cheekbone beneath his left eye, something he had added to each of them that morning and planned to add to Aislen when they brought her back. The small tattoo had been far less painful than the one on Heath’s back of the river house, though Cameron had a different opinion. For someone who liked sex with a side of pain, he’d complained throughout the tiny tattoo.

the artist said, a guy tatted from stem to stern with big silver gauges in his ears. Isabella rolled off the table and went to the mirror to admire the image on her ribs. A sketch outline of willowy ocotillo, flowering at the top. She smiled. "I love it." "Me too," Rex said, breathless. She flipped around and grinned. "Your turn." Rex was not nearly as graceful. He'd gotten tattoos before. A couple on his arms, ankle, back and thigh. Never ribs. He definitely would have been squirming and crying uncle if it was his first.

Neal shrugged, "Do you have those too?" Ricky smiled and turned around. He pulled down his t-shirt, exposing the tattoo on his nape. Neal leaned close to take a good look. It was a small tattoo of a wolf head with a few horizontal and perpendicular lines. The black ink actually looked good on Ricky's light slender neck. "Your breath tickles." Ricky commented, and that's when Neal noticed how close he was. He scooted back embarrassed. The blonde guy giggled and let go his top before turning around.

I don’t remember having these new tattoos on me. “Nothing.” I answered as I put on the sock on my left foot. “Don’t you have work today?” I ask her, trying to make a conversation as I folded my right knee and saw another tattoo on the inner part of my right ankle which said Drive. I had a bad feeling that there’s a tattoo on the outer side of my right ankle and as I turned to see it, there was indeed a tattoo which says N.C. “I skipped.” Maddie’s response caught my attention.

That night, Henry finally let go of all restraint. The room lay in shadow, and he pressed me against the floor-to-ceiling window, the lights of Riverton flickering like stars beyond the glass. “Claire…” “Yes?” “I want to get another tattoo.” “Where?” He gripped my hand and pressed it to his lower back, mirroring the spot that corresponded to mine. There, with each of his breaths, a faint outline of a feral totem emerged. “I want to tattoo your image. I want to carve you into my bones forever.”