Werewolf Bite Tattoo Novels & Stories

I gasp, barely above a whisper. And I don't lie. I fall apart under his touch, pleasure crashing through me in waves that leave me breathless. I'm suddenly boneless. As the aftershocks shudder through me, he lifts his head, his eyes glowing, feral, gold. A werewolf’s gaze. He pulls away and brings a locket to my throat, the one with the carved silver wolf. He wears it gently. Then he rises, his tattoo of a snarling wolf, etched on his back. I know that wolf. I’ve traced that tattoo in a hundred dreams.

I whispered. A normal vampire bite is like a scratch for a werewolf especially an Alpha, I’d been drinking Maverick’s blood on several occasions and there was never a problem but I knew that Talon had some Werewolf poison, possibly Wolfsbane laced over his fangs so it was no wonder it would cause a lot of damage to him.

I asked, my curiosity piqued. He took a deep breath. “The process starts with a bite, usually on the neck. It’s not just any bite though—it’s a special one that leaves a mark visible only to other werewolves. It’s like a supernatural tattoo, saying ‘Back off, this one’s taken.’” I shivered involuntarily. “And does it… hurt?”

Jonathan’s was special, with a lightness, a freshness to it. “I just need to stop for a moment,” Jonathan said. “Catch my breath.” He was clearly exhausted. He’d been searching for her all night, then he shifted to his wolf, and now he was basically carrying her. He stood in front of her, with his back turned, and she noticed the tattooed totem on his back. It stretched up to his shoulders. It wasn’t uncommon for werewolves to have tattoos, most of them did. She traced her finger along the lines of the totem. Jonathan’s tattoo was stunning. His pack obviously had a lot of artistic talent. The tattoo was intricate, with delicate lines. “I’m good now,” he said, turning to face her. He reached

It was a bit overwhelming that tears started to fill my eyes. He kept thrusting inside of me until his orgasm came. As soon as he began to orgasm, I bit into his neck. I was worried I wouldn't know what to do when it was time for me to mark him, but it seemed like instinct. Like it was second nature to me. I licked the place where I bit and saw a white wolf with a five-star pentagram symbol beside the wolf appearing on his skin. I knew that it was a picture of my wolf. I could tell that when it healed, it would be perfect. Derek fell on the other side of me, exhausted from what we had just done. I was exhausted as well from our activities.

How sweet. Max began working on the tattoo, and I watched, mesmerized, as the design took shape. “Does it hurt?” I couldn't help but ask, seeing the needle piercing into his skin. “A little. I'm a werewolf, so the pain goes quickly. Still hurts though. The needle is specialized for werewolves.” I mouthed an oh' in realization and at that moment I decided to get one too. I don't have tattoos, the thought of getting one never crossed my mind.

Brown fur glossed in the glow, matted with dirt and old blood; gold eyes fixed on them with a terrible focus, head low, nostrils testing heat and fear. Tom lurched up, wobbling on the bad leg, snatched the silver steak knife from his tray. “Leslie—behind me.” “Don’t be stupid,” she hissed, backing anyway. The werewolf crept forward, shoulders rolling, breath fogging in the cold. Tom threw. The knife flew clean and buried to the hilt in the creature’s right hip. It screamed—rage and pain braided—staggered back, clawing at the silver, then whirled and limped into the tent maze, swallowed by canvas and shadow.

“He liked to bite.” “What?” Maya giggled, turning her head, her shirt slipping just slightly. Ice shot through my veins as I saw the jagged mark on Maya’s neck, just below her jaw. Raised, raw skin, the unmistakable imprint of teeth—of a bite. A werewolf’s bite. I stumbled back, my breath catching. No. No, no, no. My shaking fingers reached out, gently tugging at the fabric of Maya’s shirt to reveal more. My stomach lurched but Maya barely noticed, too lost in her drunken haze. “Told you,” she murmured. “Best night ever.”

“It’s time to stop.” Ever since I heard that Harriet is still alive, I held out a little flicker of hope that Malcolm was alive too. He was a spirit wolf, after all, and valuable to Lupus Dominus, but now I’m back to utter despair. He’s dead. He has to be based on what Gayle told me. I touch the tattoo over my heart. It’s difficult for a werewolf to get a tattoo that lasts. Only an expert can do them. While getting it done, I had to remain in a state between human and animal so the ink wouldn’t fade when I shifted.

I said genuinely, feeling grateful. “I don’t remember anything about my heat and as you said, it’s precious but my mate doesn’t want me. I don’t even know if we mated during my heat or not, I have no mark on my body except this tattoo,” I showed her the tattoo that was composed after my heat. Her hands grazed against the skin of my neck as she examined the tattoo. “Usually, werewolves get their marking spot filled with red ink when they mate. It’s the first time that I’m seeing a crown and a moon tattoo after the first heat.”