Thanatos Tattoo Novels & Stories

"He told me they weren't there to kill me. And he had this mark." Selene’s brow furrowed. "Like a scar?" "No, a tattoo," I said, shaking my head. "Black ink. It was a wolf’s head with a circle and a triangle around it." Selene pressed a finger to her lip, her frown deepening. "When we get to the Anatolikos packhouse, can you draw it for me?" "I think so." I reached up, my fingers brushing the metal pendant at the base of my neck. The tattoo looked almost exactly like the second charm on my necklace, just with a wolf added.

kicked in. Dante was suspended in the center of that boiling hell. I could see the steam rising from his skin, the "Alpha-Wolf" tattoos on his chest flaring a desperate, dying white against the encroaching red. He wasn't screaming. Dante Thorne didn't scream. But his jaw was set so tight I thought his teeth would shatter, and his eyes—those nebula-grey eyes that had been my only North Star in the slums—were locked onto mine.

No light at all beyond the glass except the faintest suggestion of the unpaved road, pale as a scar, winding away into nothing. Domenico stands behind the desk with his back to me, looking at the photographs on the wall. He does not turn when I enter. He is wearing a dark shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, and I see the watch before I see anything else. A heavy steel case on his left wrist, too large for him, the band loose enough that it sits below the bone. It catches the lamplight and holds it. He wears it the way a man wears something he did not choose but will not remove, something that has become part of the weight he carries and no longer notices.

Seeing Zion like this reminds me too much of the spell that had been aimed at Sly and missed, almost killing me. Hearing my distress, Thorne stops. “This bastard would have killed you,” he snaps. “And you want me to spare him?” I nod slowly. “He’s my boyfriend…um, ex-boyfriend. He doesn’t know, Thorne. He thinks I’m human and that I’ve been tricked by…” “By the monsters,” he spits, finishing my sentence. “I know how men like him think.” Thorne reaches over and pulls down the collar of Zion’s shirt. A freshly tattooed infinity symbol in the center of a burning sun. The symbol of the Brotherhood of the Sun. The ink is still fresh, the skin around it very pink.

“No I don’t like this place, if people stay here for a long time they will die” "Who told you that?" He asked "Yesterday my friend Farouk died, that’s why I told you to get used to not seeing me in the morning" "Who told you about Farouk’s death?" He asked "I saw the ward boys taking his body yesterday. Will I ever go back home?” "Don’t worry, nothing will happen to you, you will come back home soon" His eyes were already full of tears, he didn’t want to lose him, he is all he has.

H). We have this tattoo somewhere on our body. Ransom’s tattoo hides in the body of another tattoo. The image depicts Anubis sitting on his throne with Callisto, a Greek Goddess, standing next to him. Callisto wears a silver bear headdress and holds the moon in front of her stomach. At the feet of the gods, a black wolf with green eyes faces a menacing black hellhound with gray eyes and Anubis-like ears. It’s easily one of my favorites on his body. Arson’s knees rest above my head as he rubs the tip of his dick against my lips, seeking entrance. I open and feel the cool metal against my tongue and the roof of my mouth as I envelop it in warm, wet heat. He moans my name in reverence.

She puts her hand to my face and brings the talisman towards my cheek. "Stop it!" the guy yells. The talisman hits my skin, and it's so painful I can't even scream. My vision blurs and everything goes dark for a moment. Then Heather is gone. Yanked off of me. I hear her fall against the ground, her cry more from anger than pain. "I'll give you one chance," the guy says. "Leave now. In two seconds I won't be so merciful." His voice sounds so familiar, like it's always been with me. Like it's, oddly, a part of me. I try to place it, but my head throbs and I can't think straight, let alone open my eyes.

He walked over to where the men gathered and cleared his throat, getting their attention. They all raised their head to stare at him, one by one, a look he had gotten familiar with in their eyes. A look of admiration. He wasn't dressed in a shirt so his heavily tattoed chest and abdominal area were exposed. He had gotten another tattoo after Angelo's death. An eagle on his back and Angelo's name written under it, in Angelo's memory. ***

As my finger hovered over the call button another message popped up. Call him and you will end his life. Text anyone and he will die. The message was followed by a picture of what looked like a bomb. Lose the guard or I set the bomb off.

The icy blast would’ve made anyone else recoil, but Dante stood there, solid and unmoving, like he was made of stone. His back was a canvas of ink, just like his front. The artwork was nothing short of breathtaking. Spanning across his entire back was a massive, detailed tattoo—an angel, powerful and divine, standing within the ruins of an ancient temple. The wings spread wide across his shoulder blades, reaching toward his arms, while crumbling pillars surrounded the figure in dramatic grayscale contrast. It wasn’t just a tattoo; it was a story, a testament, a work of devotion etched forever into his flesh. It was absolutely beautiful—mesmerizing, even.