Black Mammoth Tattoo & Piercing Novels & Stories

They played for a bit she sighed dreamily as the Carson, Matthew, and Chuck took off their shirts, a few minutes later Leon, John, William and Blake followed suit, and she couldn't help but smile as she noticed that Carson and Blake had similar eagle’s tattoos on their left shoulders. But she also noticed the black jaguar that ran mid-back on Blake and the lion on Carson.

Just as I stood, the door creaked open. It was Damon. He was shirtless, his tanned skin slick with a fine sheen of sweat that made his muscles ripple with every movement. As he turned to close the door, the morning light pouring through the window caught the ink on his skin. I finally saw it clearly, the tattoo that dominated his back. It was a masterpiece of ferocity: a massive, snarling wolf with its fangs bared in an eternal roar. It covered the entirety of his broad back, the intricate black ink making the creature look as though it might leap off his skin at any moment.

The cut was black leather in color with the white stitched patches which included the gang's name itself in full view as it draped along the chair. The emblem of a vicious howling black wolf with white eyes and snarling teeth bordered around a bright white moon with the name HOWLER MC. written in stitch form around the visual. The bearded man glanced at his cut and continued to make his way toward the brightly lit bathroom as the sun had burst through the small window above the shower and illuminated the entire room causing him to wince from the view once he stepped inside while his eyes adjusted to his newly lit surroundings.

Esmeray held her forearm up, examining the intricate tattoo that adorned her skin. The tattoo depicted a majestic wolf, its eyes fierce and determined, surrounded by swirling patterns that seemed to dance with a life of their own. The lines were bold and precise, giving the impression of strength and resilience. “This tattoo is so unique,” Esmeray remarked, tracing her fingers over the contours of the design. “I’ve always felt a connection to it, but I never knew why.”

I realized how much I missed him, more than I had admitted to myself. “You really love tattoos,” I remarked as he casually removed his shirt. His back was covered in intricate black and gray tattoos—half a skull, half the face of a crying woman. His shoulders and arms were adorned with shading, letters, and flowers that had intertwined over time. I noticed the names of my parents, mine, and his pack etched on a cross. My dad would have had a fit if I had even a single tattoo.

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.

I said while fiddling my fingers. "You do not have to thank me. I'd happily eliminate every last one of those cowards from the entire region," he said tightly. I noticed his jaw was set and couldn't help but take in his features. His black hair feathered across his eyebrows and I watched as he ran his hand through it to brush it away from his eyes. His full lips were set in a frown as if he was picturing eliminating the witch hunters in his mind. I also noticed the tattoo that ran from his neck and down to his shoulder. The abstract design framed a triple goddess moon symbol with a dagger that impaled the inner circle. This brought my thoughts back to the night before and Tor's magnificent p

I thank her, and we chat as she hands me something and shows me where I can change. It’s a black teddy with stain ties on the thong. It’s nice and leaves nothing to the imagination. I turn and look at my back in the mirror. My Chinese dragon tattoo covers my back. It’s open paw under my shoulder blade holds an orb. In that orb is the Mother’s Revenge emblem, but it is tattooed with invisible ink. Only a certain light will make it visible.

A body made for war. "Let’s start from the back," he said, turning. I dragged my gaze over the designs. He started with the skull, the first tattoo he ever got—at eleven—after his first kill. It was massive, covering most of his upper back, though other ink had been added over time. "The woman’s face over the skull, to the left," he pointed, "that’s my mother. And the dove beneath it signifies her demise." His voice was detached, but I felt the weight of it.

Then he gestured his hand towards our back. "I'm Thunder." Then she leaned on the wall. "I'm Boston." I took a glance at the guy who talked to Rhyme earlier. A tattooed man. He shifted his position, then he pointed his shoulder. He shoved his black shirt to show me his BRIT tattoo, the fifth that I saw in his skin based on my quick count as I scanned his arms. I was stunned after realizing that Rhyme also had that on his wrist. But the guy named Boston had it in his right arm and it was bigger. I nodded to myself.