Excalibur Sword Tattoo Novels & Stories

On cue, men with weapons, with the same tattoos emerged from the shadows. My eyes widened when I realized what their tattoos means. It's an arrow and a sword depicted together with a gothic letter R in the middle. These men are rebels! "The master will love this. Let's bring them to our hideout. Take them to the wagon," one of the rebels ordered. "NO!" I shrieked and elbowed the man who was holding me on my left arm. He lost his grip on me as he fell to his knees. He was clutching his stomach while grunting in pain. I shifted my haze to Ayla and I saw how she tried to free herself from the men. She succeeded which made the rebels frantic and furious.

My eyes drifted down to his torso, and my breath caught. God must have enlisted his finest artist to carve Killian Knight. The tattoo, a haunting web of thorned vines, began at his right hip and sprawled across his torso. Its black branches reached his heart, with another branch peeking over his left shoulder and spreading down his arm to his elbow. The intricate design, hidden beneath his clothes, was now fully exposed.

The hair was a dark brown color but seemed to blend into his skin, making it nearly impossible to see from afar. "Fascinating," I thought to myself as I poked at one strand. My eyes went to the tattoo on his chest. It was the tattoo of an angel holding a sword and standing under what seemed to be a tree. I didn't understand how the tattoo artist managed to capture it, but it looked amazing. My hand slowly traced around the beams of light that were tattooed with gold and the sword that was the same color as the being. Just as my finger was about to trace the wings, I heard Damon mumble, "It's ticklish," he said with a deep voice.

His keen eyes scrutinized the body, tracing the intricate patterns of tattoos etched into the attacker's skin. "This is no ordinary assailant," Elder Broja began, his voice low and gravely. "These tattoos, they speak of allegiance to a specific pack. Each mark represents a vow, a bond, a commitment to their cause." I exchanged a troubled glance with Lyra, sensing the gravity of the situation deepen with each passing moment. "What do these tattoos signify?" I inquired, my voice tinged with apprehension. Elder Broja's gaze bore into mine, his expression grim. "These symbols are ancient, passed down through generations. They denote allegiance to the Eclipse Pack, a ruthless faction known for th

Nikolai is a god among men, and I am fortunate to be embraced by his presence. Nikolai’s tattoos are sexy, and I find myself unable to resist tracing them with my finger. The stars inked on both his shoulders catch my attention, making me curious about their meaning. However, it’s the eagle tattooed on his chest that truly captivates me. The majestic bird exudes power and strength, its wings spread wide as if poised for flight. The intricate details of the tattoo come alive on his skin, and I can’t help but admire its beauty. The eagle symbolizes freedom, and in that moment, I feel as if I am soaring alongside it.

Sniffling, I raised my tattooed hand to the nail and pressed hard on it, swiping down quickly as a hiss escaped my lips. “I’m nothing but a failed Knight.” Staring down at my bloody hand, I sobbed as I looked at the fresh scar that cut through the blade of the sword. This was a universal symbol for a dishonorable failed Knight: A broken sword.

“I am Aeron, Alpha of Obsidian. And if you don’t move, you’ll regret standing in my way.” Laughter rippled among the guards. “He even speaks like him. Clever.” Aeron inhaled slowly, then stepped closer. “You want proof?” His hand lifted, and in one swift motion, he bared his forearm. The skin shimmered, revealing the mark of the Obsidian—the tattoo that every member of the royal family had. It was a tattoo etched in silver light. It glowed in the light as they stared at it. “Tell me, can a trick forge this?”

I walked through its doors, down a seemingly endless aisle lined with the royal advisors, the guard—including Jordan—and the royal family, who stood closest to the reverend at the steps. I stopped at the base of the steps while the reverend recited ancient words. Then I knelt as he descended to me, continuing the incantation until the needle touched my skin. It was just like any other tattoo—the sting of a needle striking again and again into the flesh of my neck. I already knew what it would be: I had seen the crest many times before. A black shield edged in crimson, crowned with silver and obsidian points shaped like crescents. At its heart, a silver moon cradled a black wolf with its head

He scoffed, taking off his trousers, and I looked away. A wave of dread washed over me, not sure what to expect next. Fear rose in my chest as I curled my fingers into the bedspread. By the time I looked back up, he was fully undressed, but he had his back facing me. I felt a drool escape my lip as my eyes traveled over his body—broad shoulders, his muscular back adorned with a large crest tattoo, identical to his brother's, except he was larger, taking up the entire top left side of his back. The tattoo depicted a shield with two swords crossed above it. Two lions stood on their hind legs, pulling the shield from both sides. Below the shield, a banner displays the name "Dontrell." The desig

“Your tattoos are beautiful.” I look at the tattoo of a skull surrounded by black flames. My whole right arm is decorated with tattoos from shoulder to wrist. My skin prickles with every caress of her fingers, but I don’t stop her from touching me. The tattoo sleeve has several tribal symbols, and there are a seal trident and a frogman tattoo on my shoulder. Each tattoo represents something in my life. The skull represents my status as an Assassin, and the cross is a play on my name. Her finger moves down the line of my intricate cross, then to the inside of my rib cage, where I have an inscription. Qui velit, ut vivat in aeternum.