Thirteen Ghosts Tattoo Novels & Stories

In the moonlight, a woman in a white lace dress was kneeling on the stone steps of the chapel, her face buried in her hands, her shoulders trembling. She had no feet. Below her dress, there was only a swirling black mist. "I see her." Lorenzo let out a low whistle. "Two years ago, Marco put her in the ground right there. Her ashes are buried under the rose bushes behind the chapel." I didn't stop, walking straight toward the chapel. Giovanni froze behind me but didn't dare to call out. As I reached the bottom of the steps, the female ghost's head snapped up. She lunged at me, her face a sickly pale green, her eye sockets empty black pits.

Like an electric static on my skin, a sharp tingling that doesn’t belong. Opening my eyes, I break the kiss with Kian and look at him, confused. His tattoos are moving wildly. I pull back, glancing at Malix, and then at Frost. All three of them go still, their gazes locked on me. Their tattoos—the black marks that show the shadows beneath their skin—are going crazy. Spirals and swirls and spikes wave like flags in hurricane winds. Then, as I watch, mesmerized by the display, the shadows begin to crawl off their bodies… and onto mine.

I shimmied my underwear off; he’d ripped mine in the past and whilst the act of doing that was sexy as hell, lace pants are expensive. Ghost fell on top of me, his hips in between my legs, erection pressing against my very wet and ready core. His fingers traced the edges of the floral tattoo across my lower stomach and bikini line, before moving further down to the barbed rose garter I had around my thigh. “I like this one,” his voice was low, sexy. “Have you got any others?” I nodded, sweeping my hair out the way to show the roses across my collarbone and the bottom of my neck, before rolling over to show him the wings across my shoulders.

“This place is quite beautiful for me and I’m curious about some flowers and those sparkling things…but I don’t care about this much! All I want is to get out of here and find Oliwen.” The deity laughed loudly: “You’re are so special! I chose the right person.” He continued: “A long time ago when the galaxy was founded, there were 13 deities who came from many planets to protect our Galaxy. They have resisted the force that wants to control the greatest power in the galaxy. But then their forces gradually weakened, forcing them to come back to the room in Infinite Space. To save this galaxy, we founded The Galaxy Trade Union. At a certain time, the leaders of the Galaxy Trade Union will come

Perhaps we have a different condition. "Can I ask you something? Are there any ghosts you have met here that have come back to their bodies and lived?" I curiously asked them, and Dylan turned his head to Clint when he answered, "I did. But very unusual. Only two out of thirty-seven. Mostly died, and some are being mercy-killed by their families. And there are twelve other wandering ghosts in this place right now, kept hoping as you do. It's expensive to keep your body alive, you know? But no problem with you; you have lots and lots of money. But your parents mentioned that they don't want you to suffer more and longer. They are also suffering, Liv. Especially your dad. He's been crying when

Grace long to explore it, but she respected Xan's wishes. “Grace, you shouldn’t be out here by yourself!” Xan said coming up behind her and putting his hands around her waist. Xan softly kissed the side of Grace's neck where her Gang mark was. The mark was a Phoenix and a Lion rearing on its hind legs with a harp in between them. All three gangs are represented in a beautiful coat of arms style tattoo. Xan had repeatedly told her that she did not need to have it on her neck, but Grace wanted to show who she finally was. Yes, it hurt like a bitch, but it was something that Grace truly wanted to do and her family could not be prouder.

"This ritual involves the binding of your spirit to the pack. It’s a sacred tradition that signifies your commitment and connection to everyone here. You will receive a mark, a tattoo that symbolizes your bond with us." She produced a small vial of ink and a delicate, ornate needle. "This tattoo will be placed on your left wrist. It’s a representation of our pack’s symbol—a crescent moon intertwined with a wolf’s head. The ink is mixed with the essence of our ancestors, binding you to our lineage. But it won't be visible to anyone who is not a part of our pack." I held out my wrist, feeling a mixture of anticipation and reverence. As Sophia began to work, I winced slightly at the sting of th

Turning off the faucet, I step out of the shower and wrap a towel around my waist. Taking a deep breath, I gaze at my reflection in the mirror and run a hand across my jaw. The light of the bathroom casts shadows over my shoulders as if spotlighting my tattoos. Like some Confradia Assassins, I have a tattoo that represents my status in the organization. Mine is a human male’s face hidden in the shadows, half of the face is complete with the crimson light of vengeance in one eye and the other half is the skeletal face of the male with an empty eye socket.

They were midway across the path, in front of a cemetery when suddenly graves started opening. "What is going on?" Isabella asked, clutching onto Chris tightly. Chris was suddenly sweating so furiously but Ariel was cool and her face was blank and devoid of any emotions. They stood there watching six tombs open and six scary-looking ghosts walked out. Isabella was already whitish in appearance knowing who they are. Chris's hairs were all up and his eyes green, his normal sight nature. "GREETINGS TO THE SPECIAL ONE." One of them muttered. "GREETINGS TO THE LITTLE GODDESS." Another muttered.

I stuck to my gun, playing with him just a little. "What about this one?" I ran my finger across a set of Roman numerals on the left of his chest. It was the first bit of skin-to-skin contact I'd had, and sent an electric tingle through my entire body. His chest was just as hard as it looked, which made me all flustered just thinking about it. "Sixteen and eleven," he translated the numerals, bringing my focus back to the tattoo. "It stands for sixteenth of November: the day my little sister was meant to be born, and the day my mum miscarried her."