Kneeling Knight Tattoo Novels & Stories

Once I stepped inside the door behind me closed. It was a large room with gym equipment all over the room but no one was there aside from one man standing in front of a metal table. Knox’s hair fell over his face and his skin was damp. I noticed the blood around his knuckles as he tried to cover them up with a white tap. “How long have you been here?” I asked. Knox had a massive tattoo of a wolf on his upper back and a paw print on the curve of his back. His muscles were strong and ripped. He turned around and faced me.

I clicked it and the scene played; a man rushing into the bathroom, shooting the woman who'd been in there and writing those shitty words with her blood. The man's face didn't show but his build…it looked so familiar I couldn't quite pinpoint who it belonged to. I rewatched the clip, again and again, hoping to find something and when I finally did, I paused it, my gaze settling on the man's neck. Right there, on the left was a tattoo. One I recognised a little too well. Two swords and a helmet in the middle with blood dripping from the eye part of the helmet— the Black Knights. Those disgusting motherfuckers.

His sight shifted beside as the knights and twin of the moon and sun appeared in front of them bowing down, by which he agrees to nod with the answers. “I understand.” Commanding as the twin immediately heeded, she utters the words. “You know what to do.” Vanishing insight as her knights and guardians followed. They hold each other’s hand as they follow Chantal inside and where he stands waiting for his pledge Princess. Bowing in the position of a knight and more unlike his title and stance as one of the holders, he made himself is known as his loyalty only marks towards the two he serves and will forever be in their current immortal lives.

The walls are lit by candles and on every corner and foundation, a Knight Statue can be found; standing tall while holding a sword on the front. Confused and disheveled, she turned around only to see a huge person sitting on the throne with his eyes closed. The man is wearing a dark tunic with deep purple lining paired with dark trousers and black knee-length boots; not a typical clothing from the Horalian Kingdom. She also noticed the wolf-skin hanging on his shoulders and the sword that he holds on the right hand while his left hand is folded towards his face where his chin rests.

She flashed me a smirk, hearing Zachary’s compliment. “Thanks. You don't look bad yourself.” I say, eyeing the suit that was made from my hand. He looked really good in the black suit that was embroidered with golden leaves and an arrow that pierced one of the leaves. It was an art, one that couldn't be seen if it wasn't examined closely. I wondered how good it would look on Gray, Would he be happy If I made one from him? “Are you okay?” Zachary's voice brings me back to the present. I blinked and smiled at him.

Heat throbs from the runes, crawling up my arm, whispering vows I did not write. Beneath, something shifts. Roots. They coil, slow and patient, twining through the foundations. Not metaphorical. Alive. Drinking. Anchoring me in place. My knees weaken; I force them steady. This is the part where I kneel. I lower myself, silk skirts pooling, crown of braids heavy against my scalp. The position feels wrong. Too low. Too bare. But ritual demands it. And Kade is already there. --- He kneels opposite me, head bowed. His shoulders sag beneath a cloak too heavy for his frame. Light shows every hollow in his face, every bruise beneath his eyes. His lips move without sound. His wolf is gone, and he kn

I gulped it all, coughing as he pulled out. He removed the clamps gentle, rubbing my sore nipples. Pain faded to throb. Then, from his pocket, a small marker—permanent ink. "Hold still." He knelt, drew on my hip—a small outline, a dragon like his tattoos, coiled around a V for Voss. Discreet, hidden under clothes. "My mark. Permanent soon, if you earn it." I touched it careful, ink fresh. "Yes, master." Heat bloomed—owned deeper.

The sneakers, the dark leggings, the headband, it all put it together, and I looked more masculine than I have ever. I slowly walked out to Knox. He had changed into fitted tanks, one that stretched over the taut muscles on his chest and accentuated the lean ridges of his stomach. He had a single, tiny star tattoo on his collarbone, one that the tanktop was not hiding much. He was wearing shorts instead, his hair pulled back. "Here I am," I said, opening my arms, my eyes looking up to his.

Nate’s breath caught before he could stop it, heat blooming low and relentless, spreading through him as his gaze lingered longer than it should. A flower bloomed across Kieran’s left chest, petals dark and sharp, curling outward in a pattern both elegant and dangerous. The design stretched upward, curling over the strong curve of his shoulder before disappearing along the line of his back. The black ink stood stark against his skin, a contrast that seemed almost alive. And then there was his arm. From wrist to elbow, ink wrapped him in an intricate sleeve. Interwoven shapes and lines twisted together in a pattern that was just so beautiful. Nate’s eyes traced the design helplessly, his eyes

I’m starting to think I need medical intervention. “The tattoo’s almost done,” Knox says, giving me that knowing smile that means he can read every dirty thought crossing my face. “Want to see it?” I get up slowly, my legs still a little unsteady, and walk over to where he’s lying. When I’m close enough to see his back clearly, I stop short. Spread across the entire width of his back, rendered in bold black ink, is a large bunny. Complete with long ears and everything. This isn’t what I expected at all.