Nordic Compass Tattoo Novels & Stories

“The sun’ll be up soon. This is staying in the back of the el camino with me until nightfall so I know you’re not getting sloshed behind the wheel.” But he was hardly even listening to me, his face screwing up into a grimace as he smacked the compass. “Fuck!” “What’s wrong, is it not working?” “It needs the blood of the creature we want to track to actually work,” he spat. “No wonder the K-o-T abandoned the damn thing.” He pulled his hand back like he was going to spike the compass into the ground, but I caught his wrist, eyeing him intently. “I can help with that.”

The aroma of roasting maize and fresh mandazi drifted up from the roadside stalls, mingling with the crisp, clean air left behind by the seasonal rains. ​Adrian stood near the edge of the roof, his hands resting lightly on the concrete ledge. He wore a simple linen shirt, its sleeves pushed up past his elbows to reveal the woven black cord on his left wrist. The cool morning breeze brushed against his back, where the skin beneath his shirt still throbbed with the faint, healing heat of the fresh midnight-black ink. The geometric compass tattoo was permanent now—a physical receipt of his chosen path, etched into his skin by the only person who had ever truly seen beneath his armor.

“Yeah? Maybe once my ass is healed you can turn the puncture wound into one of them cool, fake bullet holes you see on motorcycles and pickup tailgates.” “Please. I’m an artiste. I have something way better in mind. Something hip-fun-sexy-cool.” Suspicion clouded Colt’s face. “I already told you. You ain’t tattooing the area around my nipples. Ever.” “But this new pattern is so awesome. Turquoise and orange outlined in black and red, that looks like flames—” “No way, no how.” “Just hear me out.” “Dammit, Indy, I said no. Why are you so dang fired up about doin’ this?”

He pushed the stiff fabric of the sleeve up the dead man’s forearm. There, on the inside of the wrist, was a tattoo. It was not a military insignia or a prison marking. It was elegant, almost scholarly. A stylized, open compass, one point resting on a single, horizontal line. Above the line were three small, precise stars. Below it, a crescent moon. It was an emblem, a sigil. Anton’s blood turned to ice. He knew this symbol. He had seen it before, etched into the corner of a faded, sepia-toned photograph in his father’s private study, tucked inside a ledger of old, defunct holding companies.

She asked me to kneel and eat her, and I will fucking deliver. I threw her down on the couch. She watched me with dilated eyes as I removed the rest of my clothing. Her eyes widened when she noticed the recent addition to my ink. She regarded me with watery eyes, kneeling before her, gently parting her legs. “Klaus...” She looked around, reaching to open the lamp, casting a vivid light on our naked bodies. Her eyes followed her fingers, tracing the still reddening ink of the rose entangled with the compass ink on my right chest. A full bloom rose covering the tip pointing north, the veins twirling east to west and the tiny roots entangled on the south end.

Minutes after Danica worked out of the airport, a convoy pulled over and a lot of men stepped out of the car. People came to a halt instantly, knowing that they were either there to escort someone in or escort someone out. Whoever it was had to be very rich with the flit of current cars lined up and men whose aura and build spoke of nothing but danger. Dressed in formal attires of black suits, shades and comms in their ears, they looked more like assassins than guards. All tall and huge to a fault, they looked both ravishing and dangerous to the core. The kind of danger that pulled women close. It was almost irresistible and it made them all frantic and excited to know who was coming or who

Lenora's POV Alpha Zade stood before me, stark naked, his chiseled physique on full display. My eyes darted wildly around his body, taking in the tattoo that covered part of his chest and left arm. His tattoo was the same as the symbol I had seen on the signboard earlier. ‘Two daggers crossed over its forehead, their blades adorned with ancient runes.’ Alpha Zade's tattoo, a symbol of his Pack's heritage, seemed to glow in the room's dim light, a reminder of his strength and authority and power.

“No.” I said firmly. “I must insist. Yo-” the doctor stepped forward “You touch me with that needle and I won’t be the only one with a concussion.” I threatened. “I saw your tattoo. You can’t be afraid of needles.” Janine said. Damn, I had a massive tattoo of my wolf on my back. She was pure white, which is a symbol of royalty. “What is your tattoo of?” Axel asked.

He links as he pouts at me I can tell a smile is trying to replace his pout. I laugh as the group looks between us, Ajax just smirks at me and looks away. I love my marks, but I will have to cover them when I go to my granparents they look like I have a little tattoo at the base of my neck on each side one a star and one a moon both with a wolf howling at it, they're each around two inches In size amd very detailed so they're definitely noticeable. They're perfect.