Saw Blade Tattoos Novels & Stories

I, on the other hand, had zoned out, my mind racing through the fact that Blade was more dangerous than I had imagined. Plus, I had just cheated on Brian. Kissing someone else was against our bond: my chest was hurting. It felt like a dagger was constantly striking my heart. I had to explain to Brian and get rid of Blade as soon as possible. "What the heck?" Tone's voice snapped me back to reality. I glared at him and realized he was staring at my neck. He rose up. "How'd that get there?" He glared. "What?" Raina wondered then understood he was referring to my mark. "Oh, she got a tattoo. Isn't it so cute? We should get one too, matching."

On Cale’s wrist, a tattoo. Not identical, but unmistakably similar. A circular pattern, sharp lines interwoven with precision. At one end, the lines formed the head of a snake, its fangs bared. On the other, the blade of a sword was etched into the design. A symbol that could not be mistaken. Naomi’s eyes widened instantly. The color drained from her face. Her gaze flickered between the tattoo and Cale himself, again and again, as if trying to convince herself she wasn’t seeing what she thought she was.

Ding Hao swallowed hard; he moved away his eyes from the black spinels, and saw a long saber floating in the space. It was a quaint-looking long saber, a bit like the podao used by the army of the cold weapon era in his previous life. The saber had a broad spine and a long edge, molded in a soft streamline. Three blood grooves were carved along the blade, like sprawling dragons and phoenixes. The blade was slightly narrower towards the handle, and the hilt was extremely long, which was more than enough for both hands to grasp. The entire saber, with no complicated pattern or engraving, looked extremely simple.

I assumed it was made by the Shakra though it was a little different, like the blade had burned right through her skin. I placed my hands at both sides of her temple, chanting, diving into what was left of her mind in hopes I could see her final moments and the face of the witch spy who had killed her. I found her last memory but all I could see of the witch who'd killed her was just a hand with a tattoo of three tiny stars that were identical to the ones on the Shakra blade. I gasped in pain, pulling my hands away from her head to wipe the blood that had dripped down my nose. That was when I felt the familiar presence. I turned around and my gaze instantly fell into Alexander's emerald gree

My eyes drifted down to his torso, and my breath caught. God must have enlisted his finest artist to carve Killian Knight. The tattoo, a haunting web of thorned vines, began at his right hip and sprawled across his torso. Its black branches reached his heart, with another branch peeking over his left shoulder and spreading down his arm to his elbow. The intricate design, hidden beneath his clothes, was now fully exposed.

I bent over the dead soldier, my heart heavy as I realized that the same tattoo adorned his neck as well. he design was unlike anything I had seen before, yet there was an unsettling familiarity about it, a memory tugging at the edges of my mind. The tattoo depicted a flying demon, its wings outstretched, eyes aglow with an otherworldly luminescence. The level of detail was astonishing, every line and curve capturing the essence of the creature in a way that was both mesmerizing and disconcerting. The artistry was undeniable, but there was an underlying malevolence that sent shivers down my spine.

The blade I used had already been coated with Sierra’s signature scent, taken from the fabric one of my spies stole from her guest chambers during the summit. He collapsed, gasping, his blood spreading across the marble floor. “Forgive me,” I whispered, watching life leave his eyes. When his body stilled, I cleaned the blade and placed a leather scrap near his hand. Burnt edges. Claw marks. A perfect match to a rogue seal. A perfect match to Sierra. I returned to my chamber where I sat before the gold-rimmed mirror, brushing my hair. Not a single tremor betrayed the truth, that ten minutes earlier, I had slit Elder Tarek’s throat.

She pressed herself against the wall, peeking through the gap. Father Zerus stood with his back to her, his cassock already on the floor, his broad shoulders bare. He was reaching for a clean shirt when she saw it—the tattoo that covered his left shoulder blade. It is a serpent, coiled around a dagger, its scales , its eyes burning with an inner fire. The dagger was stained with drops of blood, and beneath it, a single word was etched in elegant script: Sosa. Krystal's blood turned to ice. The club. The night she had been so drunk she could barely stand. The man she had walked into, the man whose hand she had grabbed, dragging him through the crowd. The man she had kissed before he had pushe

Saint was about to look away grudgingly when Nicholas's towel lowered itself and then fell to the floor, revealing a tattoo. His gaze snagged on it before he could even stop himself. The tattoo rested low on Nicholas's back, directly above his waist. The design climbed the base of his spine in elegant black lines. Sharp points and sweeping curves intertwined around a narrow central shape that resembled a watchful eye. Thorn-like flourishes stretched outward before curling back in on themselves, giving the impression of something dangerous held barely under control.

It would be unfortunate if one pumpkin among the others ended up looking remarkably ugly. Mr. Sasagawa laughed. “It’ll be perfectly fine. Look, I’ve already drawn the design. You use a knife like this.” With a narrow-bladed carving knife, he expertly cut out one of the triangular eyes. Then he held the knife out to me. “It’s easier if you insert the blade perpendicular to the skin.” I steadied the pumpkin with one hand and placed the knife against its surface. Without hesitation, Mr. Sasagawa reached for my hand and adjusted my grip.