Panther With Wings Tattoo Novels & Stories

The gold dust on the butterfly’s wings fell in tiny showers. “It’s still not enough. It doesn’t hurt enough,” she whispered. Her fingernails pressed into her palm without thinking. A faint brown mark appeared there. It was an old wound. “The butterfly that can truly break out of its cocoon must carry blood.” Yvette wore long sleeves and pants. In the warm studio, only her neck was exposed. The glass wall reflected the new butterfly tattoo behind her ear. Its broken wing perfectly covered the scar left by the chandelier that had fallen back then.

I acknowledged and finally got a good look at the man, his chocolate skin stretched over his wide shoulders and my eye involuntarily followed the path of the tattoos littering his arms. The clearing of his throat snapped me from my inspection and my eyes flew to his, where almost black orbs stared at me with an eyebrow raised. “Sorry,” I mumbled, embarrassed to have been caught staring. “The right is of a phoenix rising from the ashes and the left is a wolf in the dark forest.” He smirked, turning sideways so I could see his ink clearer in the sun. “Do you mind me asking what it means?” I reached my hand out to run my fingers over the wolf’s canines.

She had only glimpsed parts of it before, but even from across the room she could see the design. A two-headed eagle. “What?” He followed her stare and looks down at his tattoo. “Oh. This,” he said. “It’s a folly of youth.” He sounded a little embarrassed, and he frowned, seemingly puzzled by her keen interest. She couldn’t take her eyes off the ink as she walked toward him. He raised his elbow so she could have a better look. Inscribed across his biceps was a black shield bearing the image of an ivory two-headed eagle hovering over five yellow circles that are in the shape of an inverted V.

Because if I looked—if I saw—I’d fall harder than I could ever afford to. But right now? I’m looking. And I fucking hate that I can’t look away. His body is a masterpiece of power. Carved abs. Broad shoulders. Veins on his arms like he’s always halfway to bursting. And his chest—God help me—his chest glistens like he walked out of some ad for sin itself. And then— Then I see it. That fucking tattoo. A lion’s head, snarling right in the center of his chest. Its mouth open like it’s about to roar. Eagle wings stretch from both sides, curling around his collarbones like a crown of chaos.

Drake said to no one in particular. Drake looked at the tattoo of two wings in the shape of a human heart permanently etched on the left side of his chest, just above his heart. "I never heard about this Drake. If a dragon has a human Mate, they never leave a tattoo. Are you sure that your mate is a human? Only creatures of equal power will be able to leave a mark like this. If she left her mark on your heart, that means you liked that girl before the drug took over. If she is a human, then she would have died with the way you lost control over yourself" his friend Mason's words ring in his head.

Kenji pulled down part of the collar of his coat from the left side of his neck, exposing a black butterfly tattoo with spread wings just above his collarbone on the left side of his neck. Yuri’s eyes widened when she saw it. And now that she actually looked closely, she can see that a black chain was also looped three times around Kenji’s left wrist, from which a silver crescent moon pendant engraved with the Roman numeral of two hung from. “This is the mark of the Phantoms,” said Kenji, pulling his coat collar back up again, and looking at Yuri. “There is a reason why the mark of the Phantoms is the butterfly. It is for the sole reason alone that the butterfly is the most mysterious and al

The tattoo stretched with lines forming into a design of interlocking wings and chains, intricate and bold. Without realizing it, I drifted closer. My hand rose almost on instinct. My fingers brushed the edge of his shoulder blade, tracing the ink. The heat of his skin seared into me. “Why this?” I whispered. He exhaled slowly, like my touch burned and calmed him at once. “Chains for what holds me down. Wings for what I want to break free into.” My fingers lingered on the design again. His skin was smooth, taut under my touch, every inch screaming with restrained power.

he asked her suddenly but in a low whisper. Hearing his answer, she looked at him. This time his wide, muscular and tattooed chest could not escape from her sight. Various tattoos were made on his chest and as she had once seen in the corner of his neck, it was a kind of horrible but bold tattoo laid on his neck. Actually it was a tattoo of a phoenix bird that started with his muscle but the texture of its long wings was reaching his neck. And at that moment also, she had only seen the wings of that bird because his body was covered with his shirt.

I whispered, “You were amazing.” He pulled back and beamed at me. “Did you see my roll? And—and how I dodged and flipped him?” “I did! I don’t even think I could have done that,” I laughed, brushing his hair from his face. He puffed his chest. “The warriors say I’m strong. That I’m brave.” I kissed his forehead. “You are. You always have been.” He held up his arm, showing me a fresh tattoo inked onto his forearm. A beautiful phoenix with its wings spread in mid-flight as it stood in flames.

He bent his head and tongued the tattoo on her right butt cheek. India sucked in a quick breath. Then he turned his head and tongued the tattoo on her left butt cheek. Another hissing intake of air. Colt flattened his tongue and dragged it up and down her spine, over the infinity symbol—two long, twisted black lines—a tattoo that started above her butt and ended at the gigantic butterfly spread between her shoulder blades. No traditional tramp stamp for his India. Her skin was a canvas; every marking on her was a work of art.