Novel & Cerita Trafalgar Tattoo

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?

Running down his spine was a tattoo of a dagger, flanked by two cobras coiled around its blade, each poised to strike the other. The crossguard was shaped into a Trinacria—its eyes hollow and haunting, its hair a wild tangle of serpents. On its three bent legs were the words etched in a stark, gothic script: Famiglia, Orgoglioso, Patria. The ink stretched over the planes of his back like a warning—Family, Pride and Homeland. He stood up, and my suspicions were confirmed—completely naked, without a hint of shame. He slept next to me completely naked—fucking naked. But before I could even start to argue or throw some biting comment his way, something else pulled my focus—his ass.

The fiery burn lingered in my throat. "Nothing's wrong with being a gentleman, but pretending to be one just to impress women doesn't make you one." I smirked, taking another swig of whiskey. I surveyed his outfit, taking in every detail. He wore a vivid red shirt left open to showcase a muscular chest inked with a roaring lion whose fiery orange mane seemed to reach beyond his skin. Leonardo. Lion-hearted. That tattoo made perfect sense. A golden cross lay nestled atop the lion's mane, glinting in the light like a beacon of faith. It was clear that Leonardo wore his heart on his sleeve. His was a tattooed visual representation of his inner fire.

Paul added, obviously uncomfortable with the tears. I covered my whole face as I hunched over slightly, sobbing into them. A sign of an elite warrior, one that had been trained and passed their tests, was a tattoo. It spread from shoulder, across the back and to the other shoulder. Each one was slightly different, tailored to the warrior but within a pack, there was always a specific design. It meant the world to me that they would gift me this. “Skylar.” Someone took my hands and held them. Carl was on one knee in front of me. He was smiling as reached up and brushed tears from my cheek.

The coachman courageously continued when he saw that Matteo was under Adrian’s control, “Shaquille even called you ‘sir!’” Matteo broke down. However, he could not move, so he yelled as if he was crestfallen, "It's all slander! You can kill me, but you won’t ever tarnish my reputation!" Adrian chuckled. Matteo was just so stubborn. The tattoo on his chest was evidence. Everyone knew that the symbol of the Wolf Fangs was a wolf. Moreover, the wolf head tattoo on Matteo’s chest represented his status and position in the Wolf Fangs. As long as others saw it, they had to obey him unconditionally.

He turns the shield around so I can see the front. It hasn’t been painted on a barn door this time. It hasn’t been scrawled on a perimeter wall. This is military equipment. This belongs to the pack. The blue and silver crest has been defaced. Painted over the wolf is the jagged, open maw of Redmaw, rendered in that same thick, tarry red ochre as before. And below it, scratched deep into the wood with a knife, is a single word. TRAITOR. I stare at it. The letters are jagged and angry. The person who carved this was shaking with rage.

She looked down, and her face turned red when she realized that they both were lying naked, wrapped in the sheets. She looked above and found Raf was sleeping peacefully while embracing her in his muscular arms. She kept admiring his calm expressions, and suddenly, while doing that, her gaze fell over his mark. “Wow,” a word escaped from her mouth when she found a beautiful mark on the right side of his collarbone. She bends forward and examines the tattoo. It was a beautiful mark with a silver outline. In between the tattoo, a wolf was standing with a crown over his head. At the bottom, Royal Blackthorn Clan written with their names (Rafael and Saraya) engraved at the end. Saraya took her f

I stared behind him and the mats gradually grew bigger when I saw what his tattoo was. I held you gently, I even felt him flinch because of that, but he let me go. I noticed the slight tilt of his face as if trying to see me. "Y-you, have the faction's tattoo." I whispered. The symbol of this faction is the fire burning a sword with the wings of a bat. "Like you..." It was almost like a breath. His voice was hoarse as he said that before gently facing me. "Why did you choose that tattoo..." "I want to be the fire that burns the sword of evilness and fear, I want to be brave to protect the person I want. I want to be fearless to face the truth... and I want to have it, to be different ...."

“I’ll just change and be right back.” My breath hitched as I watched him peel off the shirt. His back was turned to me, and I couldn’t help but stare at the ripple of his muscles, the way his skin stretched over the lean strength of his body. He moved with the fluid grace of a wolf, and something about the sight stirred something deep within me. But then, something else caught my eye. A small tattoo on the back of Tariq’s shoulder—a triangle with three circles inside. It was strange, almost out of place on him. My curiosity piqued.

She had only glimpsed parts of it before, but even from across the room she could see the design. A two-headed eagle. “What?” He followed her stare and looks down at his tattoo. “Oh. This,” he said. “It’s a folly of youth.” He sounded a little embarrassed, and he frowned, seemingly puzzled by her keen interest. She couldn’t take her eyes off the ink as she walked toward him. He raised his elbow so she could have a better look. Inscribed across his biceps was a black shield bearing the image of an ivory two-headed eagle hovering over five yellow circles that are in the shape of an inverted V.