Excalibur Sword Tattoo Novels & Stories

Paul added, obviously uncomfortable with the tears. I covered my whole face as I hunched over slightly, sobbing into them. A sign of an elite warrior, one that had been trained and passed their tests, was a tattoo. It spread from shoulder, across the back and to the other shoulder. Each one was slightly different, tailored to the warrior but within a pack, there was always a specific design. It meant the world to me that they would gift me this. “Skylar.” Someone took my hands and held them. Carl was on one knee in front of me. He was smiling as reached up and brushed tears from my cheek.

Some in memory of the lives I was forced to take and others to remind me why I was here, why I was so dark and hollow inside. Two tattoos held more meaning than the rest, though. The first is the crest for the Bloodstone pack. It sat just above my heart. Two wolves howled at the moon on opposite sides of a sword that sunk between a crown and shield—roses growing around the tip of the blade.

It was just questioning. This was definitely something suspicious. Adrian saw something peeking from the corner of his turtleneck. He bent down and dragged it to reveal a tattoo of a phoenix with its wings spread wide and a sword burning through it. The tattoo ran from his collarbone up to his neck. A sworded phoenix... This wasn’t good. All the while, everyone else at the fair was oblivious because they’d gone to a hidden corner. Lucia was still having fun with the others, unaware of the storm brewing with her at the center of it.

Doughy from good living and laziness. Drakon is carved from granite. His chest is a landscape of muscle and violence. A jagged white scar runs from his collarbone to his ribs—a knife wound, old and deep. Another scar, a bullet graze, marks his side. But it’s the ink that holds me. A massive tattoo covers his torso. Wolves. A pack of them, snarling, fighting, running. They wrap around his ribs and disappear onto his back. It’s a masterpiece of shadow and ink.

I need my sword. Reaching behind my back, I feel the cool, smooth texture of my marking shift beneath my fingers. There’s a brief moment where the ink pulses, almost as if it’s alive, before it solidifies into the hilt of my sword. I draw it out, feeling the familiar weight settle into my hand. The blade hums with energy, a glowing blue that pulses in time with my heartbeat. This sword is mine, a part of me, born of my blood and soul. Athena’s gift, forged from my very essence.

Scarlett said, the man now blinked and gave a sheepish smile. “Sorry I'm Drake. Nice to meet you Alpha Elijah, Luna…” He trailed off not knowing Scarlett’s name. “Scarlett…” She offered, it still felt surreal. “You marked him!” Kiera shrieked now running over to them to stare at Elijah’s neck, a look of pure jealousy crossing her face. Scarlett turned to Elijah’s neck, her heart skipping a beat to see the wound had healed up. In its place was a tattoo of a wolf with its head raised up, the mark itself looked like it was shimmering a dark grey. Her wolf, her mark. She traced her finger over it, sending a shiver of pleasure through him.

Alarich lowers his head in submission "I speak to you not only as your humble servant, but as a friend. If you don't perform your duty, despite you being above the law. Our kingdom will be emboldened and a potential unnecessary rebellion could be on our hands" My mark. To humans it looks like a tattoo all over my left side. It starts from my bite scar, above my left breast. Black vines and flowers trail from it, down my side and wrapping around my leg to my foot. Then it trails up my chest, along the side of my neck, swirling and wrapping down my arm and ending at the tip of my ring finger.

The door to his room was half open and I could see him changing, he was muttering something while undoing his shirt and revealing my greatest desire, I stood there, my body leaned against the door frame as I cross my arm and look at his perfect muscled body, His back was facing me as he rummaged through the closet to find a t-shirt, my lips voluntarily curved as I imagine my lips on those babies, Without any layer not only I could see the perfect mysteries but now his tattoo was also fully exposed, I drool my eyes at the first tattoo he had on his shoulder blades; two wings, one broken, the other hand stitches to support it, there was a phrase written in cursive that said " Love cures Poison

A crest gleamed on his chest plate: the Moonveil Citadel emblem, a silver wolf's head wreathed in thorns, symbol of an ancient order long whispered in legends. In his grip, he wielded a sword that sang of forgotten forges—a massive greatsword with a blade as long as a man's arm, etched with glowing runes that pulsed like veins of starlight. The hilt wrapped in blackened leather, guarded by a crossbar shaped like crossed fangs, it hummed with arcane power, cleaving through monster hides as if they were parchment. Each swing arced with devastating force, severing limbs and heads in sprays of dark ichor, the warrior pivoting seamlessly, boots sinking into the mire without falter. He fought alon

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