Black Widow Spider Web Tattoo Novels & Stories

I smiled, though my body trembled slightly with unease. He smirked, his eyes darkening as he sauntered towards me. Slowly, he reached out, invading my space. My gaze drifted to his chest, where intricate tattoos sprawled across his skin, half of his left chest completely inked. There was a large python coiled menacingly, its fangs bared as if ready to strike. Surrounding it were other symbols—a bleeding dagger, an intricate skull wrapped in thorns, and a blood moon rising behind them all. The ink seemed almost alive, dark and haunting, like it held secrets too dangerous to reveal. I had seen something like this before. The imagery was disturbing, almost as if he were part of some secretive c

They bore the shape of a crescent on their backs. The spider was called the Blood Widow, a venomous insect only found in the Five Poison Sect. The Five Poison Sect were the most well-versed with venom, and that was no different with housing venomous creatures. Every venomous creature they housed was terrifying enough to bring about fear in the nation, especially the Blood Widow. It was considered to be one of the most evil creatures. One bite from the Blood Widow was enough to send its venom along the veins of the heart, spreading it through the entire body. It could even affect one's psyche, causing them to lose their mind.

My brother snapped his fingers. Two wolf guards dragged forward an old woman. Tattered cloak. Sunken eyes.Her nails are black as rot. A necklace of dried viper bones hung from her throat. The old woman jabbed a bony finger at Seraphina. “It was her!” the old woman screeched. “At the border market! Three silver coins for a black widow spider! The spider had a red spot on its tail. Not deadly. But it makes you convulse, and mute for three days.

Immediately, I jerked my eyes upward. Too late. Those butt cheeks can’t leave my head, not for a very long time. I hated that my face was getting hot. Then I noticed the tattoos. A black raven stretched across his back, its wings half-spread on the back of his shoulders as though caught between flight and stillness. On his right shoulder was a black serpent curled over his left pec, glaring at the raven with so much intensity while the raven looked lonely and, worse, sad. More ink trailed across his back. Script. Symbols. Lines disappearing beneath fabric.

That night, Henry finally let go of all restraint. The room lay in shadow, and he pressed me against the floor-to-ceiling window, the lights of Riverton flickering like stars beyond the glass. “Claire…” “Yes?” “I want to get another tattoo.” “Where?” He gripped my hand and pressed it to his lower back, mirroring the spot that corresponded to mine. There, with each of his breaths, a faint outline of a feral totem emerged. “I want to tattoo your image. I want to carve you into my bones forever.”

We are ready. We have prepared for sixteen days filled with blood, restless nights and a love intense it etched fresh wounds upon our hearts. We find ourselves at the heart of La Isla Dorada with the large central table moved away the floorboards lifted to expose the golden circle we crafted using every drop of blood shed battling this creature. The circle is complete now. Seven handprints. Seven hearts. One family. Isla is positioned at the center barefoot and clad in her Spider-Man pajamas, the melted-token bracelet emitting a golden glow, on her wrist.

Thor killed his third attacker and stepped back toward me. “How many?” he asked. I did not answer. Because I was counting differently. Not how many remained. But how many were designed to die. That was when I saw it. On the wrist of one of the fallen wolves, partially exposed beneath torn fabric. A mark. A tattoo. Recognizable. I froze for a fraction of a second longer than I should have. Thor noticed immediately. “What is it?” I knelt slowly, pulling the wrist closer. The symbol was burned into skin with deliberate precision.

He is gorgeous to behold. He had a tattoo on his right pectoral of a wolf howling. That continued down his upper arm to a forest scene, with a dark-haired woman kneeling amongst a black wolf, two gray wolves, and a solid white wolf. The woman appeared familiar to me, but I didn’t get the best look. There was another tattoo below it that encased his forearm in a skull with an ornate feather headdress. There was a black tribal bracelet tattooed around his wrist, and on the top of each finger were unique wooden arrows. Not one arrow was the same. On his other hand was a dream catcher with various feathers on his fingers.

She's always liked tall guys with dark hair and maybe a few tattoos. We laugh a lot as we discuss the men we've dated and how bad they were. She admits she's a virgin. i tell her I am, too. I even say it's a great thing in our world she doesn't seem convinced. We get to the tattoo shop, and we pick two tattoos, one we each will get on our wrist and one that we pick for our selfs. The one on our wrists is a tattoo of two wolf shadows howling at the moon, and the one I get that's just for me is a colorful dream catcher on my shoulder blade. I was done before Annalise, but it was ok because she had designed and drawn her own tattoo, and I got to watch them finish it. I was at a loss for words.

Lima clasped our joined hands and her lips quivered as if she were chanting something. I watched in fascination as wisps of blue light emerged from her fingertips and seeped into my skin. Warm tingles arose on the back of my hand, travelling all over my shoulders. Similar wisps but of a different color crept along Alexander’s arm, like minute creepers winding around a branch. A sudden jolt made me withdraw my hand, my gaze landing on my wrist. A small tattoo had appeared right below my thumb. My lips curved into a smile as I brushed my fingertips over the pattern with three vines and a tiny flower in between.