Ragnar Lothbrok Tattoos นิยาย & เรื่องราว

Derick turned to me with a dark smirk, and I could see the ill intent in his eyes. “I don’t need you for that. I have my methods of discipline, and when I’m done with her, she wouldn’t dare to raise a finger against me,” Ragnar said, but it seemed he wasn’t convincing enough since Derick’s hand was still at the side of my face. “Know this, if you so much as touch her, this deal is off,” Ragnar threatened, and Derick retracted his hand the very next second.

GEMMA I furrowed my brows. Right now, it was from one problem to the other. We still needed time to recover from the fight with the Obsidian Wolves and now, this? Who the hell was even Ragnarok? That was the first important question. George left the office, leaving me and Nate alone. "Who exactly is this Ragnarok? And why does he have such a weird name?" I asked. He sighed. "Ragnarok is a barbarian. For centuries, after his pack broke out from our kingdom, they have lived on the outskirts, having no alliances with anyone. They're strong enough on their own." He explained.

After that they scrubbed off all traces of soap before helping him up again. Ragnar stepped out of the tub and the twelfth maid dried him off with a large towel before dressing him in his night clothes. Finally presenting Ragnar with a goblet full of wine as he settled into an armchair for some rest. Ragnar was wearing a luxurious, white linen tunic that clung to his muscular frame. The fabric was finely embroidered with gold thread around the neckline and wrists, giving it an elegant look. He had paired this with dark brown trousers made from soft wool and loose stockings that reached up to his knees. His hair hung in damp curls around his face, adding a touch of wildness to the otherwise r

Ember turned to the silver wolf, keeping her posture tense. ‘Who are you? And why did you attack us?’ she asked flatly, her wolf was still itching to sink her fangs into him. He didn’t respond at first, his gaze flickering between them and Kaya. Raphael sneered in warning, his fur bristling. ‘My name is Ragnar,’ he finally said. Even through the link, his voice was deep and husky. ‘How did you leave Thorne’s territory unscathed? And why do you have his scent all over you?’

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

His eyes are so wide with terror. The Lycan King growls again, and presses his forearm even harder against Ragnar's throat. I can't see his face, but I'm sure that it must be the scariest thing Ragnar has ever seen. His powerful, shirtless back is stiff, ready to spring free at the slightest provocation. I lower my gaze, and see that his other arm is darker, as though dusted down with charcoal. His fingers are the darkest, and at the tips, vicious claws stand ready.

The dark blue ink felt like blood seeping across the paper. Vardan took the paper back with a satisfied expression. "Smart." The man moved forward as if to touch Sora’s cheek. Reflexively, Sora threw up his hand to block him. The sudden jerk caused the mallet in his hand to slip, striking Vardan’s exposed wrist. Vardan’s black sleeve shifted slightly from the impact. There, etched into his golden skin, was a small, hyper-detailed tattoo. A howling wolf with a single falling-star eye. The true mark of the Kaldreon clan. Sora’s blood turned to ice instantly.

Harken just narrows his eyes, fed up with the night’s events as is, but lifts his shirt to rip it over his head, revealing the large mixed tribal and Celtic style tattoo that runs from his left wrist up his arm and to his chest, the intricate symbol of the Lewis tribe crest in the middle of his breast, and the large head of a wolf covering his shoulder, winding and thick brushed tribal designs covering the skin around them. “Guess again, asshole. If you’re so familiar with their markings, you probably know what my ink means.” Harken glares down at Karl, watching as the kids’ wide eyes wander over the tattoo, his fingers gripping his forearms. “Well, w-what’s that one then?” Karl asks and poi

The last thing he wanted was to jeopardize their child's well-being. Ragnar fought to maintain control as Aloha's hand expertly stroked his rod. But when her hand deftly maneuvered around his fulcrum, a sharp gasp escaped his mouth. Overcome with longing, he began to kiss her, starting where he had marked her neck during the wedding ceremony, where he had fed on her blood as a symbol of their soul-binding connection. Ragnar's kisses and gentle licks traced every inch of the mark on Aloha's neck, bringing comfort and healing to the wound. He then moved down, taking her hardened nipples into his mouth and suckling on them with hunger, as if they were the sweetest of fruit.

"Yeah, have it?" Skoteinó chuckled and removed his white smiley mask that revealed the tattoos on his face. The tattoo that attracts Raverine the most is the official insignia of Die Dark — a smiling skull with a bloody fang. The tattoos were all over his dark-toned face. He also had piercings on his nose and lip — a typical look of an outlaw.