Tim Henson Tattoos Novels & Stories

An idea formed in my mind and I went with it, plucking items from the shelves and dropping them into my basket. In the checkout line to pay, I noticed a big guy behind me waiting with his lone bottle of water. Well, I really noticed his tattoo. He had a beauty on the in- side of his forearm a perfect rendition of Jimi Hendrix's signature, the big swirl of the J as clear as if Jimi had scrawled it himself. "Nice tat," I said to him, noticing how really huge he was. At least six five, solid muscle, with spiked white-blond hair and a face that exuded confidence this was a guy you did not mess with. "Thank you." His nearly black eyes softened just a bit and he asked, "Are you a fan?"

I was so speechless, I just jumped on him and he winced, the tattoo was still hurting a bit. My fingers traced another ink one on his shoulder, he got this one after his dad died, in memory of him. "Do you always do this when I'm asleep" Bryne's husky voice jolts me back and I quickly remove my hand from his chest. He frowns and sits up, resting his back on the headboard. He yawns and stretches. I gulp, watching his thick muscle extends and flexes. "Come here" I nod and crawl to his arms obediently. He draws circles on my back and hums an inaudible tune.

The sleeve of his T-shirt lifted, revealing a brightly colored tattoo on his biceps. “When’d you get that?” She pointed at the tat. He glanced down. “Last year.” “What is it?” “One of the four horseman of the apocalypse.” “Can I see it?” “Sure.” Colt rolled his sleeve to the top of his shoulder. “Whoa. That’s gorgeous. India did that?” “Yeah. She’s good, ain’t she?” Chassie squinted at the flames that swirled around the horse’s hooves. “Yep, although it don’t seem like something you’d pick, cuz.”

“Leni, you sure you want a tattoo that size on your forearm? It’s pretty big.” “I’m sorry, you’re questioning the size of ANYONE’S tattoos?” I growl. “Okay, okay!” He holds his hands up in surrender. “You’re in excellent hands. Cason, mindlink me when you get a minute.” “Sure thing, Alpha. I’ll look at my schedule.” Cason says, but he doesn’t look up. He is already drawing on my arm. His face is full of concentration. Three hours later, I admire the stunning tattoo. Justice is already healing it. It looks like when a dragon sheds its scales.

My second favourite is his sleeve tattoo, it is a tribute to his sisters. I love how all his tattoos have meaning, unlike mine. I have two tattoos, the first one I ever got was a matching tattoo with Talitha. We found her Dad's gun and decided to explore with it, we had seen him work a few times so we gave it a go. I was the first to tattoo half a heart on her wrist with "spice" engraved in tiny cursive writing.

Katherine pov For me, the sexiest spot a tattoo can be found is on a man’s rib and of course his fingers. I’ve heard a number of time how painful getting one on those spots can be, maybe that’s why I find it sexy. But is that why I can’t tear my eyes off this hot dude across this counter as well?

His tattoos were a means of covering up the scars from his past which were lingered due to the various bullet holes that had filled his chest and arm as a result of his survival of an attempt on his life a few years prior to the time The Peterson's had arrived at Fallon Creek. He eventually got tired of people seeing them and feeling sorry for him and covered them via black ink and creative designs in a bid to move passed it, at least when it came to people talking about what happened to him. The rebellious lad, had more or less been referred to as "Rick" more often than not when people spoke to or about him, despite his mother having named him Alarick Michael Channon.

He also has several different pieces down both arms, none of which I bother to look at since I’ve been looking at him for far too long. “This was my first tattoo; I got it for my mother and sister; it’s the symbol of the Haven to remind us all that we will rise from the ashes of destruction,” he says, ignoring my previous command. “How poetic,” I say sarcastically, even though it is rather touching, albeit stale. I just need to get this over with; there’s no need for forced conversation. I open my mouth to speak, but he cuts me off. “Before you do what you’re about to do, just give me a chance. I have nothing to offer you, but I promise I’m not a monster like you think.” he pleads, stepping

10 now and very impressed her dad’s were friends with The King. ‘Are you ready to go swimming?’ Ronin asked. We got changed and spend most of the day at the pool, Ronin and Bodhi admired my new tattoo. ‘You know we have a great tattoo artist at our pack too, that specializes in fine line designs’. Suddenly a plan came to mind, I could get a tattoo at every pack I visited like a souvenir. Bodhi mindlinked the tattoo artist and scheduled an appointment for tomorrow afternoon. We dried off and I put on my suit, this time without the jacket because of the heat and we headed to the backhouse together. Alpha Leonardo looked like a tough guy, with very broad shoulders and a lot of dark facial and b

I realized how much I missed him, more than I had admitted to myself. “You really love tattoos,” I remarked as he casually removed his shirt. His back was covered in intricate black and gray tattoos—half a skull, half the face of a crying woman. His shoulders and arms were adorned with shading, letters, and flowers that had intertwined over time. I noticed the names of my parents, mine, and his pack etched on a cross. My dad would have had a fit if I had even a single tattoo.