Alpha Male Angry Wolf Tattoo Novels & Stories

"That I can't tell as I would expose whoever shared such secret, but what I can say is that whoever told me also explained that the high alpha has a tattoo on his chest of a wolf. I need you to lift up your shirt to make sure that I am talking to the right person." I could see Melchior's body tensing as he held a safe distance from the other guy. "How about you tell me your name first?" He said firmly, trying to make himself overpower the scientist whilst also trying to buy more time. "That is irrelevent," I heard him reply, raising his voice. "You are not the alpha, are you?" He continued. "Show me your tattoo." He leaned forward in the hopes of reaching Melchior, but he moved backwards, av

Malachi said and smiled at me. Marcus came toward me and we shook hands. The other man, Steve, stood next to James and he took out his rotary machine and laid his equipment neatly on the table next to the portable bed. When they finished with their equipment, they told us to lie down. The rotary machine made a soft whirring sound and Marcus started below my neck, in the middle of my spine. Each wolf pack had their own symbology and designs they used and tradition played a big role. The four types of tattoos were the Alpha tattoo, the Beta tattoo, the Zeta tattoo, and the member tattoo.

Basically, royalty, as Alpha of the largest pack in our region he was in control of all the smaller packs and outranked all other Alphas including Alpha Patrick. My stomach flipped. A soft purr echoed in my mind. My wolf. She either wasn't strong enough to speak to me yet or I was too weak for her to want to speak to me. Probably the latter. My palms started to sweat and electricity tingled through my body. An overwhelming urge to look up took over me. My head started to lift and I was powerless to stop it like my body was in control, not me. I held my breath. His neck was tattooed, he had a strong square jaw covered in dark stubble and his lips were thick and lush. A heat built in my core.

As Ricardo got kicked by him, he got very angry and his eyes got red, veins of his hands were bulging in the anger. He closed his palm in anger and shouted in a harsh voice and soon he converted into a werewolf. Vampires got shocked by seeing him because he was a very big werewolf, no ordinary werewolf could be this stronger, Ricardo became 15 feet larger werewolf. The brutal fight was started again, vampires were trying to bite on his neck to suck all his blood, but they didn’t know from whom they were fighting. It was Ricardo, a warrior whom no one can defeat except the love.

He said with disdain. “Yes. Let her go now and we will not cause a scene in this school and reveal ourselves to humanity.” “Shouldn’t that be the goal?” “We don’t care about your egos. Let her go.” He growled at her, then reluctantly got off Arda and withdrew his wolf. His eyes turned normal and Karina followed suit. Karina saw a small tattoo on the side of his neck as he adjusted his thigh. It was the letter W, a distinct tattoo that the Western Packs wore. She knew he was with Cain now because the northern and western packs had aligned according to news brought by Felicia.

Now he wasn't going to let that opportunity slide by. Its sharp fangs glistened, a silent warning of the lethal power contained within its jaws. Its ears are pinned back, an expression of determination and fierce force. Opposite Dwight, Alpha Ryder stands on two legs, towering over its innate partner. Its body is covered in matted fur, tinged with hints of silver and charcoal. Its elongated claws gleam menacingly, and its snout, torn from rage, reveals rows of razor-sharp teeth. His eyes burn with a malevolent zeal, radiating a mixture of wild hunger and untamed ruthlessness. Seeing Charia almost get hurt when he came in was a vitality for battle. No one was going to hurt his girl! No wolf!

The air inside was cooler, cleaner, yet it carried a chilling authority that made my skin crawl. At the far end of the room stood a man with his back facing us. He was shirtless, his muscular frame tense as though carved from stone. Black ink decorated his body, twisting into intricate tattoos that seemed almost alive in the dim light. But my gaze froze when I spotted one marking that stood out among them all. Bold across his back, etched in dark ink, was a name. Alpha Mich. My breath caught. I had heard that name whispered in fear countless times. Alpha Mich of the Embermoon Pack. Ruthless. Powerful. Deadly. A man whose strength and supernatural powers made him a legend. If the rumors were

he'd said, and he was hundred percent right. It's the least I could do for them. So when Alpha Kane held my jaw and dangerously tipped my head to the side and said, "You have two options. You either leave this room and never show your face in my pack, or I call the security for fraud and you and your whole pack are razed to the ground." My breath hitched and I felt some iota of hatred for myself. Because despite the danger at this moment, my body still reacted to him. We might not be mates, but the love he showered my body was the most I'd ever gotten in my whole life, and I was ashamed to admit my body, my wolf, and my soul craved for more.

"You'll be fine now. I should go " A massive paw landed on my leg, holding me in place. The wolf's eyes were commanding. "I can't stay. If you're an Alpha, your pack will come looking. They won't want a packless wolf here." The wolf huffed, almost like laughter. Then, between one breath and the next, he shifted. I scrambled backward, averting my eyes from the very naked, very magnificent man now lying where the wolf had been. But not before I'd seen the intricate tattoos covering his chest, the scars that marked a warrior, and a face so devastatingly beautiful it belonged in legend.

As long as children and warriors are fed with lies and false history to their own believed-to-be-right perspectives, rivalry and conflict remain alive until everyone lives up to fighting and killing each other. “Handa! Marcha!” the beta, Marcus, growled and shifted into his hazel wolf. Leading the army was the largest wolf among them all. The Alpha. His fur differs the murkiest among them. It is black that slowly shades sangria red as it reaches the ends. I won’t deny, that he looks audaciously intimidating in that stance. This Alderhaw is, undeniably, the Alpha of this pack. “Stop staring at me,” emerged a voice in my head.