Artemis Tattoo Meaning Novels & Stories

My blood ran cold. That totem was identical to the unique mark on Rocco's chest, the one that represented our eternal Mate Bond. Only true mates received such a mark—a symbol of blended souls, a lifelong promise. And now, she had tattooed it onto her own skin. And Rocco had allowed it. I put down my phone and called the pack's tattoo artist. "Luna Caterina? It's so late. Is everything alright?" Samuel, the artist, sounded exhausted. "Samuel, I need to book an appointment for a tattoo removal."

I simply cannot and will not and my brethren would have to understand that. Etrana is ours and I refuse to live another day pretending that we didn’t conceive this dream together. Days pass and new seasons of the moon go by, yet I am still burdened by my grief, and it is for this reason that I have refused to let you go. So it shall be remembered that on this very day, I, Alpha Artemis the first, will free his love from the shackles of death, be it in this life or the next, and she shall bear the mark of our love on her skin. Thence, I shall know that you have returned to me and nothing, not even death, would be able to set us apart.

If I wouldn’t have listened to him, he would have tightened his arm more and I would have ended up with shattered bones. His warmth was heartwarming and it gave me the courage to run my finger along his muscled tattooed arm and I made small circles along the lines of his tattoo. He had this artistic tattoo of a warrior on his forearm, wearing armor and he was looking up at the constellation and that moon that was inked in Romeo’s biceps skin. And I wondered what that tattoo was about.

A sensation of falling enveloped Karistus, her vision fading to black as she plummeted from the astro plane back to Earth, bound to the soul of the tiny baby known as Latona Dalarosa Marcello. The moment the wolf's spirit entered the baby, the bracelet formed on the little girls wrist, her initials LDM glowing bright against the forests darkness, and Artemis ran, Latona held protectively against his warm chest, the royal prince separated from his beloved Azrialla fleeing with one thought in his mind, "Their baby must live at all costs." Azrialla stopped fleeing, watching as Artemis ran with their daughter, charged with the task of hiding her from the evil that stalked them.

“But you won’t.” His hand moved behind his waistband, and for a terrifying moment, I thought he was reaching for a gun. Instead, he crossed his arms and leaned back slightly, a slow smile spreading across his face that sent chills down my spine. “Impressive. You’re not scared. You’d make a good wife, Artemis, goddess of the moon.” The name hit me hard. Only my mother called me that. Tears welled in my eyes, and I blinked furiously to hold them back, but it was too late. The grief I had buried deep inside me surged to the surface.

‘What’s our moto? ‘I am Artemis, strong, intelligent, healthy, wealthy, rich, I’m a queen, I am me,’ I say smirking. ‘And we are one Art! I will always be with you, I will always have your back, and if any of these alphas step out of line, I will kick their ass.’ I could not hold it in anymore and started laughing, ‘god I love you, Selena.’ ‘I love you too,’ she says before retracting back to the back of my head.

Look at him believing what I said. "Aren't you hot now? I already drunk a lot. It's getting hotter.” He was taking off his polo shirt while I was just looking at his back until I could fully see the tattoo. Almost the same as the one who tried to kidnap Hades. The only difference is the part of their body where they put it. "You have a hot tattoo..." I said, stroking his back. "Of course, it is. It symbolizes power. With this, I can do everything," he said arrogantly so my eyebrows rose but I stroked them again.

"Be nice. He was just doing what you said." "Yeah, but I was doing something a whole lot more important." Thomas rubbed a hand over his head as a tiny glint of sunlight highlighted the tattoo on his upper arm and shoulder. Instinctively, I smoothed a finger over the intricate design. "What does this mean?" Thomas flexed his bicep, glancing at the tattoo. "Which one? I picked three Greek symbols and combined 'em." "What's this one?" I ran my finger around the dark circular pattern. Goosebumps rushed over his arm as he stared at my lips. "Strength."

“She is not part of anything.” “I’ve been by your side since I was a child,” Artisem says, his voice softening. “In all these years, I have never seen you look at a woman the way you look at her. Not once. But you can hardly take your eyes off this one.” He clasps my shoulder. “If you want her, woo her. You’re not too old for that.” I glance down at my wrist, at the intricate tattoo that marks my skin—symbols of ancient magic intertwined with the phases of the moon. The mark of my burden. My curse.

The whole thing left very little to imagination and absolutely nothing to question. The spotlight found the cherry red of her hair first, then the pale stretch of her throat, then the rest of her. The full curves of her chest pressed against the bralette's cups, the soft weight of her stomach, the flare of her hips, all of it moving in that first slow circle around the pole with the unhurried confidence of someone who had never once been ashamed of the space she occupied. The tattoos caught the light in pieces as she moved. A flash of thorns. The curve of a petal. Three letters on her left forearm that read ART in ink so dark it almost disappeared against the shadows.