Wes Watson Tattoos Novels & Stories

Other than some burns on my back and arms, I made it out alive,' he says, letting go of Hope. He turns his back and lifts his shirt, ‘They’ll probably leave some nasty scars,' he shrugs. 'No, wait!' Hope says as he drops his shirt. Hope gently places her hands on his back, emitting a glow and her eyes have a silver glimmer. A few moments later, all the burns have been healed. 'You healed it all. That feels so much better!' Nathan smiles. Hope admires the tattoos on his back and arms. Nathan has a massive tattoo of a wolf and moon on his back. On his left arm tribal tattoos.

"I want you. I want you inside me." He smirks and takes off his own t-shirt, throwing it aside. He is now completely shirtless, his muscled and toned torso on display. I want to run my tongue over his tats so badly. The Japanese characters on his torso, what do they even mean? I trace the tattoo with my index finger. Mason hisses at the contact.

I sprang from my bed, adrenaline pumping as I prepared to confront the intruder. My stance quickly relaxed, however, and a frown crossed my face when I saw who it was—Hayes Hawthorne, standing in my room shirtless. My breath caught in my throat. Holy. Fucking. Hell. Every inch of his body was sculpted like a Greek god, with sharp lines and rigid definition. A large tattoo sprawled across his upper chest and onto his left shoulder, dark and bold, forming a series of interconnected shapes that were both intricate and slightly thorny.

She pressed herself against the wall, peeking through the gap. Father Zerus stood with his back to her, his cassock already on the floor, his broad shoulders bare. He was reaching for a clean shirt when she saw it—the tattoo that covered his left shoulder blade. It is a serpent, coiled around a dagger, its scales , its eyes burning with an inner fire. The dagger was stained with drops of blood, and beneath it, a single word was etched in elegant script: Sosa. Krystal's blood turned to ice. The club. The night she had been so drunk she could barely stand. The man she had walked into, the man whose hand she had grabbed, dragging him through the crowd. The man she had kissed before he had pushe

He'd taken off his work shirt and was wearing only a tank top. The insults pouring from Wesley's mouth died instantly the moment Logan turned around. His jaw worked soundlessly, but not a single complete word came out. His eyes were fixed on Logan's exposed right arm. A bullet scar ran clean through his forearm. Above it was the tattoo of a dagger piercing a skull. That was the exclusive insignia of the Special Operations Command. Wesley's father had once served in military logistics. Growing up, he'd heard the stories about the commanding officer they called the Living Reaper.

“He has the same tattoo, so what? “That’s the thing. It’s not just a tattoo, it is part of the initiation into a pack,” He said to me as I raised a brow. ‘Which pack is that?” I asked, looking between the two of them. “Can you take a guess?” Finn asked, “I don’t have time for guesses.” I snapped as he leaned forward, coming closer to me. “He is one of Wyatt’s men”: He whispered as I raised my eyebrows. “Wyatt’s men? You expect me to believe that Wyatt and Gunnar are working together?” I question, chuckling before I put on a straight face.

He doesn’t respond but swiftly makes a beeline to his office, and I follow him like a lost pup, with no clue what the tattoo means or why it’s such a big deal. When I get to the study, he’s already in front of his computer, typing away with determination. “Shit, this can’t be,” he mutters in disbelief. “What? What can’t be? What’s wrong, Jack? Is the tattoo an issue?” I rush to stand behind him. “This tattoo... it’s popular in Blue Water Pack.” “What? Do you mean Blue Waters Pack?” “The rose on the snake it’s from Blue Waters. The majority of people with this specific tattoo are their spies.”

Dustin sneered. “Certainly not. If you tell me, I can leave one person alive, but if you don’t, I’m going to annihilate your entire family.” Brennan’s face turned grim, but in the end, he could only sigh. Then, he whispered, “I can tell you that the person who gave the orders that day was someone with a red spider lily tattoo on the back of his hand.” Dustin’s face froze. Some organizations used tattoos to mark their members. That was a very common thing.