The Tattooed Man Book Novels & Stories

A second masked man had appeared and had succinctly sneaked up to deliver the blow. Fuck it! Fuck being weak! Before my consciousness went off, I caught sight of the tattoo mark on the shoulder of the second man. His sleeveless arm featured the tattoo of a tiger, a snake and a crown. That insignia was very familiar. But my brain couldn't conjure where I had seen it before. I kept staring at it as my eyes shuttered to a close, just then an image popped up in my mind's eye. Wait….what the actual hell?

A man’s face, all planes and angles; the only thing saving it from being cruel looking was a wide, sensuous mouth. He had some kind of fur thrown over one shoulder and tattoos covered his upper chest and arms. Long blonde hair was braided up in hundreds of tiny braids that were gathered atop his head leaving the sides bare except for more strange but beautiful tattoos. Somehow, she thought she should be able to read them. Were they letters? In the haze of the dream, she couldn't tell.

He continues, "Try me. Who knows, I might already know it." "It has no name." Annalia and Don both seem baffled at what he has just said. Don's brows furrowed since he was informed that it does not have a name, whereas Anna frowns as a result of hearing it because that is also what he mentioned about his tattoo. Additionally, the man from earlier sported an identical tattoo to Adam. Is he working with him in any way?

He is a man, a mafia man. I slowly walked over to the car. He didn’t look too pleased with my actions, but hey, what the fuck did I care? He was just a big bulky gangster man, a mafia man. I took my bag off my shoulder, slipping in, placing it on the floor of the car. He slid in, closing the door. “Belt.” “Yes sir.” I said sarcastically. “Sarcasm doesn’t suit you Kacey.” “Really I thought it did.” I said, strapping in. He did the same and the car pulled away. “So what business do you want to talk with me about?”

They all look so similar yet so different, I can't even describe it. Damian stops just in front of a building with 'Tank's Tattoo parlor' written in big, black letters, this is not a place I'd ever consider being a training ground for the supernatural . He pushes open the revolving door to reveal a stocky looking bearded man at the front desk who is completely covered in a tattoos . As soon as he spots Damian his face breaks into a smile. "Aye, Damian, long time no see." The stocky man bellows as he comes out from behind the counter and gives Damian what looks like a bone crushing bro hug. Ouch. "It has been a long time, Tank, my man." Damian says with an equally big grin splitting his face.

Whispering to myself, I look at the old man. book and around the table, finding a pencil on the edge. I pick it up and go back to the book once more. I know very well that I am too curious for my own good as I use the pencil to open the book to the first page. The book appears to be a record of something, all done by hand. It has a painting that looks like a human with dark hair, strange bat wings come out of its back and stretch out to the sides. The wings appear white, almost glowing with a silvery tinge. The human is naked from the waist up, and markings cover the middle of the man's chest. The markings look like the silhouette of a pomegranate in red and four crimson stars line up beneat

He wasn't in the mood for riff-raff, but this man was already pissing him off. "Oh, you know who. But if you're still not sure, let me show you something." the man lifted his shirt and pointed at his tattoo on the ribcage. It was a name written in cursive that Ansel could read clearly. Oh, you got to be kidding me, Ansel thought as he read the name. ELISA. Ansel didn't say anything and waited for the other man to speak. He didn't know the full story, so he wasn't sure if Elisa was still in a relationship with this guy.

I ask. “Because you’re beautiful,” he says. I frown. “So if I weren’t, you wouldn’t?” “Maybe, maybe not.” A psycho? “Stop standing there,” he says. "Come sit down." I stay silent. Throat burning, stomach tight. “I don’t bite.” He rises, unbuttons his black shirt, tossing it aside. Tattoos crawl across his skin—dragons, serpents, burning skulls. My eyes widen. Who is this man? Mafia? Criminal? Mobster?

Luca turned to see a man seated at the far end of the room near a desk that hadn’t been there the first time he looked, or maybe he had just overlooked it, and the man had been there all along, waiting. He was writing something, the pen making slow, deliberate scratches against the paper. Piles of pages lay in front of him, all arranged with intention. Despite the cold room, the man dressed as if he felt no chill, his arms fitted in a soft black shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows. His hands were large, veined, adorned with blackout tattoos that extended to his fingertips. Luca swallowed hard, feeling his throat ache once again. The man didn’t look up. Luca edged closer. “W-Where is this? Wh

Ryder's sadness must have been too obvious because the man immediately spoke. "It's not your fault, Ryder. I'm not blaming anyone. Besides, I still have this, right, brother?" The man smiled and showed his left hand where a tattoo of an open book was burned---a personal sigil. Ayden then turned to his brother. "Man, they got you really good. Behold, the great Leison Chadron wrapped up in silver linings. " Leison just scoffed and muttered something about younger brothers being insolent and inconsiderate. Ayden just laughed and turned to them.