Black Onyx Tattoo Novels & Stories

Black ruffled expensively styled hair, showing hints of a curl if it was left to grow, over tanned skin, and ice grey eyes that almost appear colourless—like a soulless animal searching over his prey for the last scraps to pick. He is all squared, chiselled perfection, with a clean-shaven face, hints of dark stubble below the surface. A black ink tattoo of a dragon curling up one side of his neck, under a white button down, with a leather jacket moulded and sculpted to a very fit and toned body. Hints of more dark ink peeking over one hand under his sleeve, and I wonder how far his markings go, tempted to see that body with less covering.

Chills run down my spine, but I don't turn back because if I did, I would run like fucking hell. From the shadows, a tall man with short spiked black hair dressed in nothing more than a pair of black denim jeans hanging below his waistline and matching leather boots steps out with his back turned towards me. I cannot help but stare at the way the full moon dances against his grey skin. He tilts his nose up to the sky and sniffs the air. When he does, I catch sight of a tattoo trailing from the curve of his shoulder straight down his back. The tattoo seems realistic somehow, how the never-ending vines trail from a black rose and on the tips of the thorns, tiny crimson-red drops of blood trail

I jump when I see him. Prime Alpha Nikolai Blackwell. And he looks grim. Deadly eyes of his rolls down to size me up, face flat and expressionless, and his hair covers a large part of his forehead. And he's shirtless. He's sweating. He must have been exercising. I swallow a large lump that hurts my throat. My thoughts spiral. He's exquisite, wearing a grey pant that reveals his packed bulge. His bare chest carries a dark ink, spreading from his chest down to his spine and to his back. A large tattoo of a wolf!

The glass fogged with our breath and we smiled at each other, looking like two people who had picked something and been picked back. “Yours did it too,” I told him, turning. His collarbone wore the same braided ring, the shared leaf-and-current, but his personal story threaded different; a river line crossing an anchor, a small cluster of raspberries tangled with chocolate vine, and, subtle as a shadow, Onyx’s silhouette tucked in the negative space like a promise only we would notice. If he flexed, the shadow seemed to breathe. He swallowed. “We got tattoos.” “Not just we. Us,” I said, and in my heart I knew it to be true. It couldn’t just be Grady and I whose marks had decided to be someth

"Go get stuffed, you horny old bastard! I have a fated mate. I can feel him! Unless we reject each other, you will never be able to bond with us, no matter what you do!" Onyx carefully analyzed her chest and snickered bitterly as he saw the mate mark of a crescent moon glowing on her fair skin, "This is rather an unheard of development and here I was hoping you to be fair game for at least a year...how disappointing." He then released her and his eyes transformed back to his gray eyes.

I see the tattoo carved into his skull—a pyramid symbol. Black Mojo. “Where’s the Matron?” His voice is cold, lifeless. I spit blood, crawling back on my elbows. “Go to hell.” He raises his gun. BANG!!!

His fingernails were painted black, and his face closely shaved. Rhett had pulled his hair back into a ponytail, exposing the tattoo of the Triquetra on the point of his cheekbone beneath his left eye, something he had added to each of them that morning and planned to add to Aislen when they brought her back. The small tattoo had been far less painful than the one on Heath’s back of the river house, though Cameron had a different opinion. For someone who liked sex with a side of pain, he’d complained throughout the tiny tattoo.

“Something exclusive.” “Exclusive? Sure. I’ll have him recommend some.” Soon a batch of designs came through. Forrest introduced them seriously. “Demon tattoo, also called a slave mark. Usually on the lower abdomen. You know what it means. But people who get this are usually women…” Forrest turned his head and saw Lorenzo studying the designs with full focus. A chill ran down his spine. “Bro, you are not thinking of doing this, right?” Lorenzo stubbed out his cigarette and said calmly, “She said she wanted to leave her exclusive mark on me.”

The man smiled and sat back. “There, it’s perfect,” he said, proud of his work. Layana hurried over. Looking at the tattoo, it mapped his shoulder and bicep, it was indeed magnificent, a deep black, red ink, that seemed to ripple slightly whenever the light touched it, the eyes of the phoenix and the tail were laced with glittering red. The detail was impressive and Layana nodded in approval “It’s beautiful,” she said noticing the necklace that hung in Declan’s neck, rather jealous of it being so close to him, trying not to focus on how extremely attractive he was.

His face contorts with pure rage as his mouth mumbles, "This track isn't over! Stiles and Derek, my claws will make sure you both pay dearly for this!" The next morning dawns bright and clear over the mountains. I am practicing my ancient Shadow Fang Warrior movements in a private courtyard atop the Moonlit Sanctuary, with my upper body bare to the wind. My tall, lean frame displays perfectly proportioned muscles across my chest, arms, and abdomen from years of intense physical training. An intricately detailed black wolf head tattoo sprawls across my chest, looking fierce and majestic in the sunlight. Unlike typical pack tattoos, this one is a deep, vivid black with blood-red eyes that seem