Saw Blade Tattoos Novels & Stories

BLADE 3. Pain. It was all I felt when I shot my eyes opened. I felt so sore and tired. The memories of how Lorenzo plunged deeper into me last night filled my mind. He was so cruel to me. I didn't find any enjoyment in it at all. I tried lifting my hands and I was happy It was back to functioning. My tit hurts too as a result of the sucking he did last night.

“It’s exactly what you think it is.” He chuckled and held his jacket open, showing the jangly letters and the picture of a chainsaw blade made to look like it was running him through from behind complete with garish red blood stains. “That it is,” he said with an impish smile, “We got a copy of that one in if you want it.”

I asked. He nodded. “Yes, baby. I had almost finished.” I smiled. “Can I see?” “Sure.” I leaned off him, adjusting myself on the table. As he went to the sketch board, my gaze followed him. I noticed his tattoos again. The most outstanding was a knife seated in the middle of his back, surrounded by thorns. They were really different from Black’s. So much different. Black didn’t have a single tattoo on him. And maybe that was the rule—for him as an Alpha? To show discipline? Or what?

I’m still having some fun and unleashing all of my repressed fucking rage on them. I stride over to my table of toys. I scan over all the different torture devices as if I were a young kid at a candy store. My eyes widen with a sense of glee as wave my hand over the various whips, blades, saws, and a large bottle of wolfsbane. Don’t want these lower life forms to heal too quickly. My hand stops over a large silver blade. This is a nice blade- nine inches of pure silver, with a serrated edge and sharp point, perfect for fileting meat. With werewolves, we can heal from silver, but if infused with wolfsbane, scars will be left. I think this is an experience Justin should remember…for however lo

I bit my lip hard as I stared at him. He turned his back to me, using his hands to comb his hair backward. His back... fuck. His back was even hotter. My eyes caught the ink on his shoulder blade, a dragon, bold and coiled like it belonged there. Its wings stretched slightly down his spine, detailed with sharp lines and dark shading. It was a tattoo that looked alive, like it was watching me through him. Just below it, a long scar trailed down his lower back and curved slightly toward his waist. It was faded but deep. I wondered what caused such a huge scar.

The impact sent him crashing to the ground of the cage. The crowd cheered crazily, screams erupted all around me. "BLADE!" "BLADE!" "BLADE!" I pulled out my custom-made blade gleamed with a savage hunger under the bright arena lights. The polished steel bore the name "Capone," etched into the metal like a proclamation of death. Its edge was as sharp as a serpent's fang. It looked eager to cut, having tasted the blood of many before. The handle, wrapped in black leather, felt like a coiled snake in my grip, ready to strike with deadly accuracy. This blade wasn't just a weapon; it was a merciless instrument of brutality, a symbol of my unrelenting power in this world.

Some in memory of the lives I was forced to take and others to remind me why I was here, why I was so dark and hollow inside. Two tattoos held more meaning than the rest, though. The first is the crest for the Bloodstone pack. It sat just above my heart. Two wolves howled at the moon on opposite sides of a sword that sunk between a crown and shield—roses growing around the tip of the blade.

"What the fu-" "The tattoos." I push the mass of doctors away from her and turn my gaze to her ribcage. There are several small tattoos, but each one is easily distinguishable from the others. The first in the line is a wolf's head with a number eight between the eyes. Next is an arrow, a dagger, two crossed arrows, a gun, and a target symbol.

He was ripped and it was clearly seen this time as he wore white sand. There were numerous tattoos on his body despite the flying dove. One on his left arm which was a circular design, written in Sanskrit. The other one was visible when he took off the sando to replace it with another one, it was on his upper back that ran down towards his mid-back, an ancient sword. Revealing his front was his buffed chest and sizzling abs, that looked hotter than the global warming. On his right chest was another one, numerous bullets were scattered as one tattoo.

I was so speechless, I just jumped on him and he winced, the tattoo was still hurting a bit. My fingers traced another ink one on his shoulder, he got this one after his dad died, in memory of him. "Do you always do this when I'm asleep" Bryne's husky voice jolts me back and I quickly remove my hand from his chest. He frowns and sits up, resting his back on the headboard. He yawns and stretches. I gulp, watching his thick muscle extends and flexes. "Come here" I nod and crawl to his arms obediently. He draws circles on my back and hums an inaudible tune.