Novel & Cerita Small Santa Muerte Tattoos

Pure, unholy sin. My hands moved on their own, sliding up his chest, tracing the tight lines of muscle beneath his warm olive skin. My fingers brushed the tattoo inked into his ribs, the Italian cross, the Latin carved beneath it. Mors tua, vita mea. Your death, my life. His grip tightened on my waist. He pushed me back, and my spine met the cold marble wall with a gasp. The contrast between his heat and the chill behind me sent a shiver all the way down to my toes. Zach’s lips left mine and dropped to my neck, kissing, biting, branding me with sins no holy water could ever cleanse.

still raw at the edges. The Calavera’s jaw gaped wide, swallowing the death date. I’d seen those skeletal grins before—on cartel men, on altars, on the sugar skulls Marisol left for her dead. But this one’s different. Tiny cempasúchil flowers frame the skull, their orange petals chipped from sun and grease. He tended this tattoo. Honored it.

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

He did not bother to lift his gaze. But Dr montoya was able to notice the devil's fork tattoo he had on his wrist. She noticed it as she would have noticed Sin itself. She frowned. He had also a tattoo of triple six on his nape. Now, that was bad. Real badness. He must have changed within the years she hadn't known him. Had three years more made him more impossible?

Many of them were just lying down at the back so they would not participate and so we won't notice them when they walk away to their homes and begun their daily activities without a prayer of guidance to Selene which was said while everyone was down in their knees facing the sunrise and in the evenings, we say it facing the sunset. “Done!” Shane said getting up and taking off his shirt showing properly tanned skin layered with his abs and the muscles on his arms were designed with tattoos that meant many things. There was a tattoo of his mate whom he had just gotten a back view of her when he first met her, she was Hispanic so he'd told the tattoo artist to draw a girl's head - the backview

"No transfusions, no painkillers, no servants. If you want to live, feed yourself, walk yourself. If you truly faint, then die right here. I won't lose sleep over hosting another funeral." Serena screamed and collapsed onto the floor. It was the first time she'd seen murder in Dante's eyes. Dante stepped over her, as if walking through air. He walked out the door and got into the black bulletproof car. "Boss, we've got a lead." His right-hand man in the front passed him a satellite photo. "The signal's coming from a private island on the high seas – coordinates 32 degrees North latitude, named 'Sanctuary'." Dante took the photo, his finger rubbing hard over the coordinate point.

She pressed herself against the wall, peeking through the gap. Father Zerus stood with his back to her, his cassock already on the floor, his broad shoulders bare. He was reaching for a clean shirt when she saw it—the tattoo that covered his left shoulder blade. It is a serpent, coiled around a dagger, its scales , its eyes burning with an inner fire. The dagger was stained with drops of blood, and beneath it, a single word was etched in elegant script: Sosa. Krystal's blood turned to ice. The club. The night she had been so drunk she could barely stand. The man she had walked into, the man whose hand she had grabbed, dragging him through the crowd. The man she had kissed before he had pushe

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.”

My mouth began going down from kissing his neck to that strong broad chest, my eyes were closed but then I looked up to catch his expression after he held back a groan in his throat, but my eyes landed on his chest who welcome me with a new tattoo, I brushed my fingers on the ink, This tattoo was a combination of words which I knew was Spanish, those words were completing a circle and huge deadly snake was printed between them, starting from Amor (Love), Escapar (Escape), Desamor (Heartbreak), Venganza (Revenge), Misión (Mission), I could few words of it. “What is this, Armando,” I examined the details of that horrific tattoo, my eyes couldn’t move from it, It was obvious from some words tha

Dante stared at me, a commotion erupted outside the vehicle. “ Daddy, what is going on?” Anaya asked with worry in her voice. “ Baby, do you trust me?” He asked her calmly. “ Dante Moritto, you are under arrest for the murder of Charlotte Simpson, please step out of the vehicles.” The voice commanded. Anaya nodded quickly.