Undertaker Sara Tattoo Novels & Stories

“According to my father he should have thought of it many years ago. It seems I am difficult to control and Mr. Allegretti is just the man to do it.” Arkady put a hand over his mouth in awe, “no. He would saddle you with the Undertaker?” “The Undertaker?” She was surprised by the nickname. She was morbidly curious. “Is this what they call him?” “It is,” he looked around curiously as if checking for eavesdroppers. “It is rumoured he buries them alive in your fancy Nevada desert.” She giggled at his words. “Arkady. You shouldn’t say such things.”

Tears ran down her face, but she didn’t move while Mother Elara applied poultices and muttered words in a language that sounded old and sharp. Slowly, the black poison stopped spreading. The glow from the mark faded. But the symbol remained, burned into flesh like a brand. “It’s stable,” Mother Elara said. “But it’ll never fully heal. The mark is permanent.” “I know.” The woman’s voice was hollow. “That’s the point. So everyone knows I belonged to them.” “Who are you?” Alina asked. “My name is Sara. I was a follower of the first Revenant. Believed everything they said. Gave them two years of my life.” She looked at her marked arm. “Then I saw what they really were. What they wanted. I tried

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Excellent idea, Ara. Her eyes widen. "Are you serious?" "Don't play with vampires, Arabella. We've walked this earth for far too long." "So you ARE serious?" Now I roll my eyes at her. "No. Don't get my face. That would be ridiculous." Though I have seen similar things on attendants' bodies before. "Thank you for waiting," the tattoo artist says as she walks in. "I'm Nancy, and I'll be doing the work on...Ara, is it?" She looks at a tablet in her hand. "Do you know what she's getting?"

Alec started. “One of my many talents.” I shrugged. Grabbing my phone, I called the answer machine at the shop. I only had one tattoo that was going to last three hours. He canceled due to his grandmother dying. “What’s wrong?” Alec noticed my change “My pack member canceled his appointment due to his grandma dying. I wish I could take him something. Maybe I can get Colt to do it.” “I’ll take you and then you can do my tattoo that needs to get finished “ “Seriously? Did you get your work done?”

My little escape for the night to be with my number one rebel partner, Ben. I padded across the room toward my dresser, opening a jar of lotion. The subtle scent of vanilla filled the air as I trailed my fingers over my arms, rubbing the cream in absentmindedly. My gaze landed on the small mirror propped on the corner of the dresser, catching a glimpse of the intricate tattoo curling along my collarbone. The mark. My mark. With a soft smile, I turned to face the mirror more fully, letting the towel slip just enough to reveal the dark, swirling design etched into my skin. I traced the lines with my fingertip, marveling at how something so permanent could appear so delicate.

That night, Henry finally let go of all restraint. The room lay in shadow, and he pressed me against the floor-to-ceiling window, the lights of Riverton flickering like stars beyond the glass. “Claire…” “Yes?” “I want to get another tattoo.” “Where?” He gripped my hand and pressed it to his lower back, mirroring the spot that corresponded to mine. There, with each of his breaths, a faint outline of a feral totem emerged. “I want to tattoo your image. I want to carve you into my bones forever.”

The Undertaker peeled off his hood to reveal his green, wrinkled skin, pointy ears, and purple pupils. “I am Jerome Moss.” But Pulse knew him as; “Father” Stranded in the warden’s offices Pulse arched his back to conjure a spell. But the undertaker waved his staff, casting, blue chains that bound his and Dolos’s wrist behind their backs. “Cyrpto chains.” Dolos said. We can’t cast our spells with these on.” “That’s correct, Faithless one.” The Under taker said. “I can’t allow anyone to strike at me until the the convergence takes place.”

My blood ran cold. That totem was identical to the unique mark on Rocco's chest, the one that represented our eternal Mate Bond. Only true mates received such a mark—a symbol of blended souls, a lifelong promise. And now, she had tattooed it onto her own skin. And Rocco had allowed it. I put down my phone and called the pack's tattoo artist. "Luna Caterina? It's so late. Is everything alright?" Samuel, the artist, sounded exhausted. "Samuel, I need to book an appointment for a tattoo removal."

When I cut my wrists, I sent the undertaker I hired my exact location. [It’s 304, Unit 1, Garden Road. Don’t get it wrong now. [Be sure to come two hours later.] Half a month ago, I learned that I had cancer, so I went online to hire an undertaker and asked him to provide the full service. I also asked him to come whenever I asked him to. The older generation always said that you had to be properly buried, or you would not be able to rest in peace, and I believed it.