Alpha Male Wolf Calf Tattoo Novels & Stories

Malachi said and smiled at me. Marcus came toward me and we shook hands. The other man, Steve, stood next to James and he took out his rotary machine and laid his equipment neatly on the table next to the portable bed. When they finished with their equipment, they told us to lie down. The rotary machine made a soft whirring sound and Marcus started below my neck, in the middle of my spine. Each wolf pack had their own symbology and designs they used and tradition played a big role. The four types of tattoos were the Alpha tattoo, the Beta tattoo, the Zeta tattoo, and the member tattoo.

A way for my pack to survive with or without me but not under this man's thumb. He grabs my face, forcing me to look into his eyes. Blue with golden flecks through out them. He's an Alpha. Shit shit shit. He's Kosta. A dark line runs down his face. A scar my father had given him many years ago. It makes him look deadly. His fingers dig painfully into my jaw. "Tell your pack to submit before you all die." He growls, his dominance hitting me full force. If I wasn't an alpha I would be wetting my pants by now.

Corinne probably didn't look at his ink-covered arms with the discretion she intended, as Hunter soon added "Among the Alphas, it has also become a tradition for us to tattoo some runes from the ancient language of the ancient wolves, so we can always remember our responsibilities to our pack and every wolf in Calibur could know their existence was important. However, Alphas or not, especially among men, all wolves know that our skin is a blank canvas for us to show how proud we are to belong to our mates. Aiden probably only did that because most of us pick arms to start doing that.” Even with that explanation, Corinne still found herself looking at the spot of still untouched skin on one o

I said. “Watch your mouth, kid,” he said, and turned around as the kettle finally boiled. He had an interesting Zeta tattoo on his back with the mark of an Alpha. I didn’t recognize it from being around here, not that I was very clued up on all the packs out there, being a lone wolf. “What pack are you with?” I asked him as he made his coffee. “I was with the Southern Alaskan pack, originally,” he said, and sat down at the counter.

The man pulls a chair for me next to the host. “Thank you.” I slightly smile at him. “Leave us, Mirom,” Alek says, his elbows on the table. He changed from his suit to a black shirt with sleeves rolled up to his elbows. I notice tattoos on his forearms with symbols I don’t recognize, instead of maybe a dragon, skulls, or roses. Tattoos don’t usually stay on werewolves’ skin for long, and I don’t know how he makes it possible. “These are not tattoos.”

The alpha sees Zak and runs towards him, jumping over fallen wolves and using his partially shifted hands to claw through enemies. And that’s when the breeze shifts. Through the blood, dirt, and heavier smells of the battlefield, I smell the sweet scent of clover. It’s coming from the man who has just made his way to Zak. His long dark hair is held in a ponytail, his muscles gleaming with sweat from running and adrenaline. The alpha is nearly as tall as Brandon, but his features are softer, more boyish, giving him an endearing quality. A tattoo snakes around his left pec and up to his neck, showing a wolf in mid-howl. He’s about to talk to Zak when he sniffs the air and turns to me, hi

I say as I leave, calling Calder immediately. Hours later, I'm standing over bodies. Six rogues. Dead. Their throats are torn out. Their chests are ripped open. The pack warriors did their job... A bloody well done. I kneel down to study their faces but my eyes are drawn to a tattoo on the forearm of one of them. A symbol I recognize. The same symbol that was on the men who followed Raylynn. My wolf growls in my chest. "Alpha." Calder approaches. "We've secured the perimeter. No more breaches."

“And didn’t I tell you to drop the formalities when we’re alone, darling?” I have heard of the Dread Moon pack wolves being tattooed, but I have never seen one in person before. His right arm and pectoral are adorned with black ink, and I spy his pack crest amidst some rose designs. It is actually quite a beautiful tapestry and something inside of me seems to pull me toward him.

Daniel clucked his tongue in his inner cheek as he mustered up his jokes with my dagger eye shot worth many Omega going into submission by prostration. Her intense scent mixed with a strong stinking odor riled me and my wolf up as different scenarios of who the stinking odor of blood might belong to. I rushed inside to meet Elena crumpled at a side in her protective being, her wolf form exuding nothing but authority and a domineering power that anyone could succumb to except me since I am from the Alpha bloodline. Daniel was almost four, resisting the authority, fighting the urge not to succumb until I commanded him, pulling him out of his struggle.

Allie pointedly asked, crossing her arms together, mirroring him. "I'm implying that you don't belong here," The Alpha said in a bored tone, not at all impressed with her show of bravery. With that, he turned to the nearest locker and proceeded to strip off his shirt. Suddenly the air inside the room felt hot and stuffy, barely allowing her to look anywhere but at his bare upper body on display. Allie couldn't help but stare at the tattoo that littered his chest. A huge symbol. Maybe a pack symbol.