Berserker Rune Tattoo Novels & Stories

even with my capped sleeve she can see my shoulder is sans tattoo. “I was told to get a discreet one, so it’s disguised on my back.” She looks confused. “What do you mean?” “Apparently, they can work the runes into any pattern or shape, or hide them. Sage designed an amazing phoenix and worked the runes into it. I’ll show you later.” “What?” Her eyes widen. “I just got the boring Task Force circle. You’re telling me I could’ve gotten something nice instead?” I laugh. “Yep. Sorry.” “Man.” She huffs. “That’s unfair.”

My eyes caught the Jaguar tattoo on his back as he turned to pick up his machete. Jaguar tattoo means only one thing, the Bratva has different gangs and they have symbols to differentiate themselves, if it were a Volk then it would be a Black Mamba but if it's a Jaguar that means it's... How? Did he know I was coming? There was another loud creak indicating that someone was coming, I swallowed a hard lump in my throat as I watched like an idiot as three men walked in. Now I see it, they all have those Russian features, including the machete guy.

“Runes provide their wearer with some form of protection. In this case, this rune will prevent you from being transported again without your consent. You will feel the call. You will learn to identify where it comes from, but it will have no power over you.” Curious, I stood up and approached the mirror in the room. I looked at my back and saw the drawing tattooed on my back in intense black. “Wow, it is beautiful.” Then I frowned and asked, “But… Why is it moving?”

Not him. Just. Like. Everything. Else. "Yes, Pakhan." I bow my head with reverence, and Aleksander's eyes drift down to the tattoo on my wrist, where his gaze lingers. All the men in the Knights who pass The Reaping at the age of sixteen receive the Viking Futhark rune for defense tattooed on the underside of their wrist. They then receive the Greek Sigma symbol once they're initiated into the Brotherhood. I have neither because not only should no one know of my existence and lineage, but I was supposed to die that night seventeen years ago.

Throwing all her and Bernice's hard work to the wind. Well, she would look on the bright side and consider this a fortune, rather than a misfortune because she would soon be twelve million dollars rich in a few days and a multimillionaire in a few months. All because of him, her eyes gazed up to his face. He was now fast asleep, snoring softly. His breathing was labored as his chest rose and fell in a rhythm. Her eyes roamed all over his body, taking in every detail. She noticed a weird pattern of small letters drawn in the form of a tattoo across the blades of his back, they seemed ancient but familiar. They were old Germanic letters, popularly known as runes. She remembered them from her c

Belenus grabs my hand pulling me past him, he lets some of his royal aura trickle out. “Fuck off, Travis!” he says to the guy who looks ready to attack my cousin. He doesn't let go of my wrist until we are in his locker room. “Stay away from the fighters, stay beside me until the others arrive” he says in a low voice, I just nod. The scent has gone when we leave the other room, or maybe I have just imagined it. Belenus pulls his shirt over his head, the minute he turns I notice the new tattoos on his back I am about to turn away when I realise they aren’t normal tattoos, they are runes tattooed into the design. He turns back, and frowns at me.

His height prohibited me from getting a good look, so I rose back onto my knees, holding his hair to one side and leaning near. “More light.” “Demanding,” he whispered, but picked up his axe, lifting it aloft to illuminate his flesh. Not unexpectedly, the tattoo was fashioned like an axe, the blade engraved in great detail, however, the rune signifying Thor was what grabbed my eye. Like my own tattoo, the crimson inkwork pulsed with the beat of his heart, and, beneath my observation, it seemed to throb quicker. “Nervous?” “My neck is exposed to you, Born-in-Fire,” he answered. “I’m terrified.” Smiling, I drew my left index finger along the faint red lines.

His mouth was sinful in that lazy, careless way—full lower lip, sharper upper, currently pressed into a line that said nothing and everything all at once. And his eyes. They were not fully human. Too bright. Too intense. A colour that might have been amber in daylight, but here, in the half-dark, seemed to hold embers. No glow, not like the Beast. But the memory of that molten fire echoed in them. Something in their depths moved when he blinked, like banked coals shifting under ash. Her heart stuttered. No. Her gaze snagged on the ink. A swirling tattoo painted his right arm from shoulder to wrist—black sigils twisting over his bicep, winding down his forearm. It didn’t stop there. The marks

My focus glued to this stranger and my heart beating through my chest with the sensation I’m being chased, stalked, or hunted. He's exactly as the visions showed. Perfect as a man, with good looks, and sculpted physique, a presence that screams dominant alpha male. He’s muscular and tall, covered in black Aztec tattoos which are there for all to see as he once again turns towards us. The large blazing sun sign of the hunter on his left peck, right where I hoped it wouldn’t be and it seals his fate. The symbol has not changed in hundreds of years, and even though this is a tattoo and not burned, carved cruelly on the skin of the hunter, it’s still exactly as it’s always been.

" — Questions from Stone. I draw my eyebrows together. - What? He lifts his shirt. Now I'm not the only shirtless, but I'm not complaining, that's for sure. I don't have time to see his abdominal muscles before he turns to show me his back. Your shoulder blades are defined, rolling with each movement. My eyes wander down her spine to her hips and dimples in her cheeks. back. Krew clears his throat. I shook. "Sorry... What was the assignment?" What am I looking at? “The rune, Esme,” Kai explains. “The wolf rune?” I thought it was one tattoo. What is a brand? Stone pulls his shirt back down, turning around. Sad . “The moment the last wolf in our pack turns eighteen, we receive the mark from th