Templar Knight Tattoo Novels & Stories

“is just for fun.” Heat climbed up my neck. “And what’s the fun one supposed to mean?” “You’d have to find out for yourself.” His voice dipped low again, and I swore my heart skipped. One of his friends Ryan grin leaned in then, resting an elbow on the table. “You’re not the only one with ink worth showing off,” he said, tugging up his own sleeve. The tattoo was intricate, swirling with roses and blades, like beauty tangled with danger. The other two joined in, each showing me their designs a phoenix across one’s back that peeked over his collar, a serpent winding down another’s arm in precise, dangerous curves.

“Or am I not allowed to call you that anymore?” “Let’s work back to the nicknames. The indecisiveness you both have about being friends with me has given me emotional whiplash. The tattoos seem to be an addition to the spell, but only for you five. I got a matching one, too.” I hold up my wrist showing the cuff I now have with a crescent moon layer as the outer edges, quarter moon bands just inside that, then half moon bands with a full moon band in the center. As I look at mine, the moons get progressively bigger, like the full moons are closer to me. “None of the warriors got a tattoo to go with their protection bracelet.” “How many times have you done this spell?” “

Eventually my brother also got dragged into the conversation and blamed for the tattoo just as he had been blamed for the first one. Speaking of my beautiful little brother I glanced down the other end of the bar where Mark was talking to Mitch and a couple of his biker buddies and stared at his right arm where the other half of my money had gone. Like mine Mark's tattoo covered his arm from shoulder to elbow and was an evil version of the great god Pan. This wasn't the silly looking Greek Pan, this was the original Celtic version complete with horns, hooves, red glaring eyes and a long horn that called to all the lost souls. Between the size, the colors and of course Mark's extremely well m

“My mother used to tell me stories about it.” We both leaned forward to read the passage. The Legend of the Sacred Flame. The Knights Templar was founded by French knight Hugues de Payens and eight companions. During the First Crusade, a small detachment of Templar knights found themselves trapped in a hidden valley, surrounded by enemy forces. This specific group of Knights went on to form the Order of Templar. As night fell and hope dwindled, a radiant being descended from the heavens. The angel, shimmering with ethereal light, carried a torch of blazing blue fire. The Angel spoke to the knights, proclaiming that this Sacred Flame was a gift, meant to guide and protect them in their darkes

Why would I have a memory that didn't include sight or smell? I’m having these thoughts while lying nude on a hard bench as the queen massages Imperial Imperial oil, the same oil Ona used to heal my wounds, into my skin. It is a tradition in royal weddings that we are anointed with this oil, preparing us for joining in body and soul. Primus will be going through a similar ritual with his siblings. From here we will bake in the early morning sun, allowing its light to kiss us from head to toe, after which they will paint our bodies with runes for health, prosperity, and fertility just before they mark us with our marriage tattoos. Primus and I decided on a simple, traditional symbol, a mount

I hesitantly accepted and dropped it after one hurried shake of our arms. He immediately turned his back to me and began heading to the center of the sparring ring. When he pivoted around I momentarily caught a glimpse of the back of his neck. I was taken aback when I spotted not one, but a plethora of Molnija marks, small tattoos shaped like lightning bolts coming together in an X. Each tattoo signified a Strigoi kill and was usually accompanied by our Guardian insignia upon entry of service. Many Guardians kept their hair shorter or pulled back to show them proudly. I supposed I had only seen him with his hair down up until that point, but for a moment I couldn't believe my eyes. I started

Below it, I wore faded denim shorts that showed off my long, dusky skinned legs paired with a fashionable pair of black heeled boots that went just above the ankle. So the spreading, navy blue tattoo was clearly visible for the world to see and it formed a tribal tattoo exactly identical to the one Chester had on his chest !! “That’s the mark of my father’s clan,” he revealed. “It is said that only true lovers are able to get exactly identical tattoos which is the rarest of rare case, believe me, specially if the lover is not from the same clan,” he elucidated. “This mark will always protect you and give you my part of the courage and energy if you ever need it when I am not with you. It is

"The tattoo on the man who held them captive. The man who... who might have killed Nathan and... and Hero's parents.” "Okay, slow down," Kristina said, her tone gentle. "You said you knew the person? What are you talking about?" "The red dragon," I repeated, my hands shaking. "But it's not just a dragon. It's... it's symbolic. It has wings folded along the wolf's back, and a crown hovering above. The wolf... it's like it's becoming a dragon. Like it's going to be a ruler.” Kristina nodded slowly, her eyes fixed on mine. "Okay. That's... that's a very specific image. Where did you see this tattoo?"

Or I did not care that much to ask about it. “This is very unusual. I wonder if Tatiana knows anything about this type of tattoo. Or whatever this is.” His fingers move to the mark he put on me—a mark of love and commitment. “It is almost healed. Same as mine.” I look at it—it is placed next to the Crown of Fire. Suddenly, I realize something. “Wasn’t it supposed to be on the other shoulder?” “It’s the left one in Avalon.” “Strange.” Caleb is about to tell me about what happened to him after he was taken by the feral rogue when something strange makes us stare at each other. Something that I did not expect. I never thought it would be possible. Not for me, at least.

The Triquetra could fulfil their destiny and duty, and each sire a child with Morgana, and then… Heath rolled onto his side and slid his hand up Talen’s arm, bringing Talen’s palm to Heath’s hip, before leaning in and putting his hand onto Talen’s chest. “I, Heath Gale of the Havermouth Les Guerriers Sanctifies, promise you, Talen Gawaine of the Concordia, that I…” He paused to wet his lips with the tip of his tongue.