3 Headed Doberman Tattoo Novels & Stories

rubbing my head I see a mark on my arm. Laying my arm straight and focusing on it. The mark, is not a mark its a tattoo! The tattoo of a wolf head with red eyes and extra-long knife sharp k-9's. There is a design on the wolfs forehead and behind the head that reminds me of some kind of tribal design intricately woven in what looks like hair.

Xander snarls, rejecting her explanation, too angry to see beyond it. “The Order of Three, but those that know about it call it the order.” She unzips her jacket, and her friends match her movements, moving in unison. Together, they pull their collar away from their necks, revealing a tattoo where a mate mark should sit. A triple moon is etched into the skin with black ink. The center moon has a key and arrow crossed with a paw sitting in the center, holding the components in place.

I tried so hard not to flush when I saw his naked torso; it was a sight to behold. Broad wide shoulders with lots of muscles, defined strong abs and on his left pectoral, there was a scary tattoo of a three-headed vicious dog, surrounded by flames. And a lot of scars were all over his abdomen. On his back, there was a full back length tattoo of some sort of grim reaper, angel! His grunts again brought me back from dreamland. I shook my head, clearing it; I gently touched the wounded area on his right, trying to understand what I was dealing with.

I froze, it was time had stopped, my blood rushed to my ears as all the hair at the back of my hair stood as I looked up at the man in front of me. No! It can't be! "You know me right?" He asked, smirking at my reaction. Of course! How couldn't I know who he was? My stomach twisted in knots as I looked past his face and at the tattoo peeking from the side of his neck. This was the famous tattoo of anyone that belonged to The Blood Moon Pack. A wolf head soaked with blood, it's once white fur stained with the red liquid as a few drops fell from it leaving a pool just underneath it.

They finally picked out everything. They went with a fox terrier set of ears and remote vibrating butt plug fox tail in brown and white. Becky's collar was slim, black, silk padded leather, with a small bone shaped lock. A metal engraved plate on the collar said "McLoed Family Pet." Her dog tag was engraved with her pet name, well the cleaner version, though they agreed her real pet name was fuck puppy. They had the tag engraved "Love Puppy".

Then he turned. The movement was slow. Deliberate. As if he had all the time in the world and knew exactly what he was doing. And that's when I saw it. On his forehead—no, branded into his fur, burned into his flesh like a scar that had healed silver—was a mark. Or maybe it was just a birthmark, I couldn't tell from the distance. But it was unmistakable. Three crescents. Interlocked. Their tips pointing inward towards a center point that seemed to pulse with its own light, though that might have been a trick of the shadows.

One I could recognise anywhere. Seated, with head bowed on his thigh was Damon. He was asleep; both arms folded over his knee and he wasn't wearing a shirt and I could see that from the dull amber lights that flooded into the room from outside. His hair was let free, no longer bound by the strings that usually held them together. They fell freely over his head, brushing his arm, shoulders and broad back, making him look wild— and so beautiful. I swallowed when my eyes caught the outlines of his tattoo. They traveled from his back up to his shoulder. There were fiery drawings reaching up to his neck like he was being consumed by flames and I caught the drawing of an eagles' talon scratching h

My head moved back on Christian as I took in his clear light blue eyes. Both of these guys were T-R-O-U-B-L-E if I’d ever seen it. “We’re uhm, actually triplets. Our third is around somewhere,” Vance said, scratching his neck. He turned slightly to the side and I gaped as I took in a massive silver marking on his back. It seemed to shimmer a bit under the sun. Is it a tattoo? My feet moved on their own, desperate to check it out more. He saw what I was doing and grinned. He turned to allow me better access as I ran my fingers over it in awe.

"Yeah, have it?" Skoteinó chuckled and removed his white smiley mask that revealed the tattoos on his face. The tattoo that attracts Raverine the most is the official insignia of Die Dark — a smiling skull with a bloody fang. The tattoos were all over his dark-toned face. He also had piercings on his nose and lip — a typical look of an outlaw.

“You’re sure no shifters had this mark?” He gave a single nod. I studied the tattoo—a serpent coiled through a three-headed skull, each skull bearing the distinct features of a mamba, a cobra, and a viper. A flicker of recognition stirred in my memory, but I couldn’t place it. Pulling out my phone, I snapped a picture. “I’ve seen this before—just can’t remember where. I’ll dig into it from my office. Thanks, Doc.” He acknowledged me with another nod before sliding the body back into its cold drawer.