Third Eye Chakra Tattoo Novels & Stories

Curiosity isn't a bad thing... Particularly for two powerful men locked in a silent battle they refuse to acknowledge. When they allow a human to open a mysterious business between their tattoo shop and gym, they soon realize their new tenant plans to help them explore more than just surface-level issues. They're about to learn that desire isn't something you can control... and being stuck in the middle might just be the best place to start becoming more fluid in their beliefs.

Twenty-two stories. Twenty-two chances to lose yourself. From storm-stranded islands to tattoo parlors after dark, this collection takes you places you’ve never been with people you’ll never forget. A marine cartographer discovers that the most thrilling territory to explore isn’t on any map. A pastry chef learns that the sweetest pleasure comes with a sting. A mafia fixer breaks his one unbreakable rule. A firefighter finds heat that has nothing to do with flames. These aren’t your typical romance stories. Here, a museum archivist rediscovers her wild side. An insomniac musician becomes a sleep researcher’s favorite subject. Twin vocal coaches teach an opera singer to find her voice again. A tattoo artist and a widow bond over grief and ink. Each tale is different: different bodies, different desires, different ways of coming undone. Some encounters are tender. Others are raw. A few will make you blush in public. All of them will leave you breathless. Whether it’s the tension of waiting, the trust required to surrender, or the electricity of a first touch, each story explores what happens when two people finally give in to what they’ve been craving. Diverse. Bold. Unapologetically sensual. Your next obsession starts here.

He smelled like danger. He looked like power. He made Ari's instincts scream one thing—run. But it was already too late. Ari just wanted a normal college life. For a timid bunny hybrid who startles at loud sounds and avoids eye contact like it’s a sport, "normal" means flying under the radar, keeping his ears tucked under hoodies, and staying far away from alphas who smell like trouble. But trouble finds him anyway—in the form of Thorn, a tiger-panther hybrid with a stare sharp enough to slice, and an aura so intense it shuts Ari's brain off completely. Thorn doesn’t ask. He doesn’t beg. He claims. And from the moment he catches Ari’s scent, he decides one thing: Mine. Now Ari’s peaceful life is spiraling into something else. Something darker. Something hungrier. Thorn is everywhere—on campus, in his dreams, always one step away from baring his fangs. But there’s something worse than being hunted by a predator. Wanting one.

On our tenth anniversary, Evan Rodger and I decided to tattoo each other's names on our chests. After the tattoo session, I woke up with my head still feeling groggy. To my dismay, I found the words "Old Crone" tattooed in a bold font across my chest. Upon noticing the way my expression dropped, Isabel Hawthorn, who was the tattooist, snickered, "You’ve been dating Evan for a decade, but he still hasn’t registered your marriage together. What does that make you if not an old crone?" I smashed the mirror on the spot, which spewed broken shards in her direction. Evan practically threw himself in her direction and pulled her into his arms to protect her. He snapped at me with a ferocious scowl, "She’s just a young, naive girl who was trying to make a joke. Why are you picking on her?" I stared intently at the parted collar of his shirt. What was supposed to be my name tattooed on his chest had been replaced with "Isabel Hawthorn, My Only Love". Isabel wrapped her arms around Evan. She expertly played the victim and appealed dearly to him, "Evan said he liked my name last time, so I was only trying to make a joke. You wouldn’t be upset at me, would you, Claire?"

All she remembered of that man was his birthmark and a tattoo he had on his back, so how was she going to find him? Her family rejected her and she had to struggle alone to raise her son, the fruit of that night, but after losing her job for the tenth time, her friend nominates her to be a nanny for the CEO's son, but what she doesn't know is that this hot CEO who lost his wife is actually the same man from years ago. " I finally found you!"

EZREN: Kiss or kill. Those were always the two options left.. until the past walks back into my life in the form of blue eyes, ginger curls, and a tattoo he swears I should remember. Knox Graye. A diagnosed psychopath. Says he was my brother’s boyfriend. That I left him to die and that I hold the only truth to his death. He is everywhere. Digging up my lies. Ruining what’s left of my life. Call me ‘Cherry’ like it means something. I swear I hate it. I hate him. I don’t know if he wants closure, revenge, or just someone to break. Either way, I’m his target and his third option. KNOX: Everyone thinks I’ve got a loose screw in the head but they're wrong. I lost the whole damn toolbox, buried six feet under with the only person I ever loved. I've spent six years grieving. Dying in pieces while he rots away in a grave but now? Now someone else walk around in his bones, smiling with his lips like he fuckin’ owns it. Like I wouldn’t recognize my own goddamn Cherry. Except now he calls himself Ezren. Cute. He thinks he has been hiding behind top grades and golden-boy charm, but I built his whole damn maze. And now that he's close? I’m done with subtlety. I want chaos in his veins, his secrets peeled off like skin. I want to crawl into the part of his head where he still hears his brother’s laugh and whisper: “You were always mine." He doesn’t know it yet, but I’m going to dismantle him. Brick by fucking brick. And when he finally breaks, I’ll be there to offer him a choice. “Kiss or kill, Cherry?”

When Veronica Styles takes a million-dollar contract from her powerful boss Dominic Vaughn and his beautiful wife Stella, lust, guilt, and a tattoo link her to a brutal past…and to a man who might have killed her brother. What starts as revenge becomes a dangerous tangle of secrets, interesting identities, and a Russian mafia heir who won’t let go. The rules were meant to be simple but nothing could prepare her for the darkness disguised within… what could have possibly gone wrong?

I had been Silas Sterling's mate for seven years. We decided to get tattoos of each other's names. This was a Binding Tattoo that represented eternal love in the Moonstone Wolf pack. It had the power to bind mates eternally. When I got the tattoo, I realized the malicious words 'Public Male Amenity' had been tattooed on my chest. It chilled me to the bone. My adopted sister, Greta Pound, was the one who tattooed me. She covered her mouth as she laughed. "Don't you always enjoy attracting the attention of all the male werewolves by dressing so skimpily in the pack, Freya? I'm just helping you to publicize this." Greta was a female werewolf I had saved. Why was she treating me this way when I treated her like my sister? I grabbed her hair angrily, but Silas pushed me violently to the side as he pulled Greta protectively into his arms. He frowned as he berated me unhappily, "Greta was just joking with you. Why are you so mad about it?" I stared at his bare chest where my name should be tattooed. However, the name 'Greta' was there instead. She looked up at me from Silas' arms and smiled innocently yet tauntingly at me. "Silas said our names rhymed, Freya, so I played a joke by tattooing my name on him. You aren't mad about this, are you?"

Everyone in the underworld knew Rosalie Thorne, the "Thorn Principessa" of the North. Wild, rebellious, notorious. Street racing, high-stakes gambling, guns, and drinking, she had mastered them all. The rose-and-thorn tattoo on the nape of her neck drove countless men wild. But what they didn't know was that for Rocco, the new mob boss of the South, a single sentence, "I prefer a more obedient woman," was all it took. At his word, I had the tattoo lasered off and swapped my leathers for long, conservative dresses. I am Rosalie. For five years, I hid my identity and played the porcelain doll Rocco wanted. Until the night he eliminated all his rivals and was crowned the new Don of the South. That was when he let his men bow to another woman, hailing her as their "Donna." I watched Rocco. The same hands that had just executed a traitor were now gently placing a pair of red high heels on the feet of his adoptive sister, Vivian. "Rosalie, she has a temper. She'll make a scene if she doesn't get the title." "You're the good one, the obedient one. Just let her have this." That day, I walked straight out into the rain and never looked back. I was never truly obedient. I just made myself smaller for him. My family had already chosen a husband for me. They had been waiting five years, just for me to say yes.

Inside the tattoo studio, Seth Jones let his fingertips trace the dip of Rita Searle's waist and move slowly up her spine. With a soft rustle, her dress slipped to her ankles. He stood over her, taking in the blood-red rose inked across her chest. They had been married for three years, and this was the anniversary gift he'd be giving her—999 roses tattooed into her skin. A broken sob scraped up Rita's throat. "Seth, it hurts… Please, stop…" Her tears splashed onto the back of his hand, but he only pressed the needle deeper, dragging it along until angry red welts marked her body. "Victor wanted those damn roses so he could give them to another woman, and that led to Tara falling off that cliff and ending up in a vegetative state. I'm just giving him what he wanted. You should be grateful." Lying on the cold tattoo table, Rita felt the chill spreading through her. Her eyes stung, weighed down by grief churning behind them. "Isn't it enough? You bought out Searle Group, you hung Victor over a cliff, and left him for the vultures. What else do you want from us?" Seth grabbed her by the throat and forced her chin up. "And isn't Tara innocent in all this? Rita, you and Victor destroyed her life. Don't you owe her for that?"