Undertaker Sara Tattoo Novels & Stories

“Your tattoos are beautiful.” I look at the tattoo of a skull surrounded by black flames. My whole right arm is decorated with tattoos from shoulder to wrist. My skin prickles with every caress of her fingers, but I don’t stop her from touching me. The tattoo sleeve has several tribal symbols, and there are a seal trident and a frogman tattoo on my shoulder. Each tattoo represents something in my life. The skull represents my status as an Assassin, and the cross is a play on my name. Her finger moves down the line of my intricate cross, then to the inside of my rib cage, where I have an inscription. Qui velit, ut vivat in aeternum.

"Someone is cleaning up their mess. Someone who didn't want me finding out who the real employer was." "Look at this," Zach said. He flipped the tablet around and zoomed into a grainy photo of one of the corpses. The man’s shirt had been pulled back, revealing a tattoo on the side of his neck. It was a serpent entwined around a broken hourglass. The ink was dark, the lines jagged and precise. I felt the blood drain from my face. The room seemed to tilt. I leaned forward, my eyes narrowing until the image burned into my retinas.

Hatch, who came every Tuesday with three garbage bags of laundry and always fell asleep in the plastic chair had one eye open. "Fine," Sera said. "Muscle cramp." He closed his eye again. She waited until his breathing went slow and even. Then she pulled the collar of her long-sleeve shirt aside and looked. The mark was already there. Fully formed, like it had always been under her skin and the burning had just been it waking up. A rune … angular at the edges but curved at the center, like all the others. It sat directly below her collarbone and glowed faintly silver in the bad fluorescent light.

I waited quietly by the door, pretending to check my list. "...Yes, it's done. Paid in full," Malcolm growled into the phone. "But she needs to stay quiet. Keep Sarah on a short leash. She's becoming a liability." My body went cold. Sarah. A secret woman, a payment, a liability. It all clicked. I remembered seeing a tiny, curved initial, an S tattooed high on the left arms of Jacob and on Aiden's biceps was a SARAH in a heart. I’d dismissed it as meaningless brotherhood.

“I have a surprise for you and it’s hiding under the panties.” Creighton’s eyes lit up as he reached for the elastic band, raising an eyebrow at her. Sandra’s blush deepened as she nodded, and he slowly pulled them off her body. His hands froze, looking at the hidden message, smiling at her brightly. Chang moved in to snap a few additional photos, while Creighton stared, speechlessly at her hairless body. In dark sapphire blue ink, just above the slit of her labia, CWA was tattooed across her pubic area, a pair of handcuffs connected the first and last letters. Creighton looked into her face with awe…she had branded herself as his, forever.

Winter wishes to crawl in a hole and die in it. 'Oh he's gonna make this harder than it already is! ' She thinks. "Anyone else interested in not a dangerous tattoo this time ?" The tattooist asks . They are quiet just looking at each other . Something dawns on Sao. He walks towards the Fahara. "He doesn't know when to quit does he? " The tattooist asks throwing his hands up. "My man ." Lea says dreamily. They give her sideways glances eyes glued on Sao. After a moment he turns around his face puzzled.

I clenched my fists at what I learned from the impostor Solen Madrid, but I’m even more eager to enter their lair. Claire showed me a tattoo. When I saw the tattoo, I held my head up because images were flashing through my mind. Damn it! “Are you okay, Scarlett?” I raised my hand to say I’m fine and took a deep breath because my head was hurting again, and I was seeing images. “That tattoo belongs to the person who killed my grandmother.” My memory of that person’s face is blurry, but I remember a large tattoo on his chest. “Based on what I discovered, I prefer to stick to my plan; I shouldn’t put it off any longer.”

Sara stood between them and the depot door, one hand resting lightly on the metal, smile small and perfectly wrong. “Captain,” she said, as if welcoming guests. “You’re quick.” Zak’s sight stayed high on her sternum. “Step away from the door.” She tilted her head, earrings catching a slice of floodlight. For a heartbeat the hem of her jacket lifted and the firelight memory clicked: the right hip, the sealing skin. Sara’s fingers brushed the pendant at her throat—twin wolfsbane branches circling two opposed helmets. “I just needed to borrow something,” she said, and pushed the door.