Wes Watson Tattoos Novels & Stories

There was a tattoo of his mate whom he had just gotten a back view of her when he first met her, she was Hispanic so he'd told the tattoo artist to draw a girl's head - the backview with a bob hairstyle and also the tattoo of his name, Shane, beautifully designed with a little wolf between the tattoo of his name and his mate's tattoo. There were many others that he refused to let us know their origins but I was sure they had something to do with his past life as a backstage musician since there were some tattoos of microphones. “Ivan has grown some muscles,” I heard Carlos say and I turned to see all of them shirtless, flexing their muscles and counting their tattoos. “Put your shirts on, gu

Sebastian went to his office and closed the door behind him. The silence there was different from the rest of the house—denser, heavier. He poured himself another whiskey, his third of the night, and sank into the leather armchair behind the desk. Karen was safe in the guest room, and Peter didn’t know where she was. Everything was under control. So why were his hands still shaking slightly? He looked at his left wrist, where the tattoo was 385900 SM. remained like a permanent scar. No matter how many expensive watches he wore to hide it—it was still there. It always would be.

My tattoos were still on me, not even smudged by the water. I was Wrath.

"You can say that to Carson." Carson, I didn't know he was that much of a psychopath if it was Nelson I wouldn't be that surprise but him, the guy who is unbothered and fucking rude. "Other than piercings, do you have tattoos?" I asked and he nodded showing off his back. I know that he has one on his left arm, the drawing is a racing car with his name on it and flames around the car, on his abdomen, there is a drawing of angels wing with a rose on the middle. And finally, on the back, there is a large phoenix with a cursive name on the top.

I am thankful he let me listen to that song. “Thank you… I almost forgot about those important details.” I bluntly said. He moves closer messing my hair making me grunt and gesture my hand, sliding it vertically to my neck. It’s a warning not to mess with my hair. “Oh… the tiger is now back.” I never mind what he was saying. I just focus on my drawing; maybe it will help me to find them. I picture out the tattoo I see on that bastard's left chest. It’s the only thing I can hold to find that tattoo. I draw a wolf eating the full moon looking up…maybe to praise the Moon Goddess or the opposite meaning? Devouring?

Suddenly Nate took off his shirt. -It's a little hot, isn't it? Luckily I have more clothes here-heading to a small dresser he had in his office. His body was well worked, sweat was dripping down his back and at that moment I don't know what I felt down here, crossing my legs a little bit. What's wrong with me! I tried to look away but there was something that made my eyes go back to Nate's body, on his back he had a tattoo that covered all his skin, it was a tattoo of a wolf opening its jaws, it looked scary showing its fangs.

The buffer one huffed and crossed his hands over is chest. “We found a warehouse where we saw them taking their solders.” He said calmly. “We couldn’t go farther since they whiffed us out. But before we left, they all had a tattoo on her left arms- a creasent like tattoo.” “Yeah- an’ they walked liked they we’ hip’ notized. Almost like they were robots.” My brows creased even further, Robots? Creasent moon tattoos on their arms? It sounded way to familiar. “Now we’ve told you- we’re not letting you go unless you tell us where the notebook is.” Both of them turned agressive as their eyes flashed yellow and their fangs Poured out at me.

A paint-stained t-shirt covers the wide expanse of his chest while colorful tattoos cover his arms and up his neck. Weston Chancler is the polar opposite with olive skin, ebony hair, and chocolate eyes. The edge of a black and grey tattoo peeks out from underneath the v of his black long-sleeve shirt on his broad chest. Weston notices where my eyes have and with a smirk, he whispers, "You disappeared. It's for you anyway, baby girl. I have been missing you." A blush scarlet's my cheeks. He got a permanent memorial from me inked on his skin. 'Why did he do that?' Weren't we just friends? I could not have been that important to him.

Only a Luna had the right to put on such an accessory. "Do you know? Silas told me he hates how you're always so arrogant. He said that he feels true happiness only when he's with me," Greta bragged to me. "By the way, Silas is tremendously upset over this Binding Tattoo. He stands guard next to me every day and kisses that part of my skin to leave his scent on it. That way, it'll prevent any other werewolf from harassing me. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm grateful to you…"

His scent hits my nose and I hate to admit how good he smells. “Good dog, hold that for me,” he laughs. I throw his shirt to the floor, it lands right beside my jacket. When I look back to Mason ready to curse at him I'm stopped in my tracks at the sight of him. His chest is covered in an intricate pattern of tattoos that blend into one big one. I feel as if each one tells a story. There are wolves, daggers, and trees with twisted branches. It's a stunning piece of artwork and I want to get up close and study it. I itch to run my fingers over each piece and ask what they all mean. I break from my trance when James sticks a monitor over a wilted rose over Mason's heart. Mason is looking at me