Simple Easy Scorpion Tattoo Novels & Stories

Her hands were everywhere—on his hips, on his back, squeezing his shoulders. “Ann,” he moaned again. He couldn't hold off much longer. He wasn't strong enough. He wasn't noble enough. He wasn't— “Ohhhhhhhhhhhh!” She convulsed beneath him, her body arching off the sofa as she screamed. Her fingers bit into his back, nails raking his skin, but he didn't care. All he knew was that she'd found her release, and it was good, and for the love of God, he could finally...

As my eyes follow his neck I find our mark sitting there like the most beautiful tattoo with its simplicity. The triple moon sits on our neck, the outlines clean and crisp. Inside the full moon sits two paw darkened paw prints. Three stars connected by thin lines rest above the full moon and waning crescent. Tracing the image I enjoy watching Damon shiver while I whisper, "it's beautiful."

Dark and steady under stupidly long lashes, calm in a way that made it hard to look away. Which made absolutely no sense, considering the folder Mercer had given me and everything I’d heard about him, both of which painted him as the devil himself. How was a man that dangerous allowed to look this good? My gaze dropped before he could catch me staring, landing on the tattoo just above his collar on the left side of his neck. A scorpion inked into his skin, detailed and clean, thin floral lines curling around the stinger. He looked down at the stain on his jacket, then back at me like this was the most entertaining thing that had happened all night.

If they have Bella and my unborn child, they are as good as dead. “Fuck, hopefully they don't know she is pregnant because they will use this against you. We did find tattoos on all of them. I have never seen these tattoos before on other gangs or mafia. Whoever it is was fast and knew what they were doing.” Richard said as he showed me a photo of the tattoo’s on the men we had killed. “A scorpion?” “Yes, everyone has it on the back of their necks. If we can find the person who had done this, we can find whoever was behind this attack.”

Luxander questioned as Januel moved closer to him to see what he was talking about. “Ah, those marks? She got them from being-“ “Not those marks, silly”. Luxander snarled at him pointing to the scorpion tattoo on her back. “I meant, This” “Oh”.Januel said observing the tattoo. “It looks like the one Lord Gabriel has”

’ ‘And the hunt begins’ Fafnir said in a low voice. ‘I’m after the Djinn, not the bloody scorpion’ Rex replied, scaling the dune slowly, slowly peeking over the top of the sand, ‘Holy f**k, that isn’t just big.’ The nest was a roughly raised section of sand that was bowl-shaped, and resting in the middle of that nest was a giant black scorpion, its tail stinger and pincers were silver in colour and it had a red stripe along its back, there were also four scorpions close to it, one was half the size of the male and silver the other three were smaller again and were pale black.

No way! This voice. I looked towards his eye and found a scar on it. It's...Sebastian. They never show their face to anyone other than their gang members. They are planning to kill me. Animals. "I don't know where he is," I said and he raised his brows at me. He was looking less scary without that mask but still so scary. I noticed a dragon tattoo on his neck which is most of the time hidden because of the mask. "Huh? You don't know where your husband is?" He asked and I clenched my jaw in anger. "He is not my husband," I said and he nodded with amusement.

Her whole being was focused on Elara with a predator's intensity. She placed the chest on the bedside table and opened it. Inside, on black velvet, was a dagger. Its blade was made of black glass, wickedly curved and etched with runes that seemed to drink the light. The air grew colder. "It's alright, my dear," Cordelia crooned, lifting the dagger. Its surface seemed to swirl with captured shadows. "The pain will be brief. Your strength will not be lost. It will find a new, more worthy home. It will pass to me, where it was always meant to be."

“I’m here for a tattoo.” He leaned back, arms folding across his broad chest. The motion made the fabric of his shirt strain. “You? A tattoo?” He laughed, low and cruel. “Let me guess. Tiny heart on your wrist? Or maybe a quote about ‘strength’ in some flowery script so everyone knows how deep you are.” I pulled out my phone and showed him the design. “Lower back. Crescent moon with vines. I have the reference.”