Dark Tower Tattoos Novels & Stories

Dragons were one of the few shifters known to leave a tattoo like head that matched that of our dragon. I had only seen it on my mother a few times. It was very light, but Odessa’s seem to grow darker and darker by the hour. In fact, several dragons in the tribe had dark marks. Maybe it was because my father was an alpha and my mother’s descended blood from several generations ago might have been a factor for the lightly colored tattoo because I had seen no others with the same.

Harken just narrows his eyes, fed up with the night’s events as is, but lifts his shirt to rip it over his head, revealing the large mixed tribal and Celtic style tattoo that runs from his left wrist up his arm and to his chest, the intricate symbol of the Lewis tribe crest in the middle of his breast, and the large head of a wolf covering his shoulder, winding and thick brushed tribal designs covering the skin around them. “Guess again, asshole. If you’re so familiar with their markings, you probably know what my ink means.” Harken glares down at Karl, watching as the kids’ wide eyes wander over the tattoo, his fingers gripping his forearms. “Well, w-what’s that one then?” Karl asks and poi

I whisper more towards myself. The tattoo is of no ordinary design. The intricate details almost seem inhumanly made. Swirls of dusty-grey storm clouds surround a midnight-blue sword. They begin at the handles and spiral throughout the golden blade. Behind the sword lays black and blue tip wings. Each feather tip is like a tempestuous addiction. The closer I come, I want to touch it. Visions of the wings wrapping around me, never allowing me to escape, consume my thoughts. I look up at Raquel and shiver, not understanding how a tattoo could be so powerful.

My fear won’t allow me to be that whether I want it or not. Over the years my phobia of being used that way has grown and it’s unbearable now, so I need to make sure I stay with my head in the game and not lose myself in surrender. I turn to him boldly, surprised to see he’s already peeled off his shirt and is unbuttoning his trousers, completely topless and toned with a muscular toned body on show and wasting no time at all. Those tattoos are not as far spread as I expected, curling over both shoulders and one side of his neck, down both arms sporadically and peeking out on his hand. As he leans to push down his trousers I catch a glimpse over his shoulder and see the majority of his artwor

"The tattoo on the man who held them captive. The man who... who might have killed Nathan and... and Hero's parents.” "Okay, slow down," Kristina said, her tone gentle. "You said you knew the person? What are you talking about?" "The red dragon," I repeated, my hands shaking. "But it's not just a dragon. It's... it's symbolic. It has wings folded along the wolf's back, and a crown hovering above. The wolf... it's like it's becoming a dragon. Like it's going to be a ruler.” Kristina nodded slowly, her eyes fixed on mine. "Okay. That's... that's a very specific image. Where did you see this tattoo?"

I bent over the dead soldier, my heart heavy as I realized that the same tattoo adorned his neck as well. he design was unlike anything I had seen before, yet there was an unsettling familiarity about it, a memory tugging at the edges of my mind. The tattoo depicted a flying demon, its wings outstretched, eyes aglow with an otherworldly luminescence. The level of detail was astonishing, every line and curve capturing the essence of the creature in a way that was both mesmerizing and disconcerting. The artistry was undeniable, but there was an underlying malevolence that sent shivers down my spine.

“It wouldn’t fix the wolfsbane.” “But it means she would heal, right?” He nods. Ryker pulls up his sleeve, exposing a tattoo of a hawk that wraps around his forearm. “Do it.” He says. “Take as much as you need.” “You don’t need to…” I begin but he silences me with a look.

Sawyer Tee and Storm have their arms crossed over their broad tattooed chests. I must admit, my uncle is hot for a thirty-four-year-old dude. He is just as ripped as Storm, but his muscles are slightly larger. If these two were anything but human, smoke would come out of their nostrils like dragons. One would be the color of amethyst, while the other would be charcoal gray. “Why are you in my girl’s apartment, Gator?” Storm finally growls.

Her fingers trembled as she undid the last button, pushing the fabric aside to reveal my skin. "Greedy little virgin," I teased, but I shrugged off my shirt, exposing my tattooed chest—rippling muscles, scars from my rough past, all symbols of the darkness she was embracing. The ink swirled in intricate patterns: a snarling wolf on my pec, vines of thorns wrapping around my abs, each one a story of conquest and pain. Her eyes widened, fingers tracing the ink, sending shivers down my spine as her nails scraped lightly over a scar. "Touch all you want. But remember, this body is your master now. Every ridge, every scar—it's yours to worship, but only because I allow it."

I admire the tattoo taking up most of his back, it's similar to Storms. It's a pair of evil snake eyes in red, with a green and yellow snake wrapped around the pistol facing the red eyes of the evil snake. The words The Satan Sniper’s Motorcycle Club are written under the pistol. But what has me at a standstill is the shading that's done around the entire picture, it's a light shading but unmistakable. It's wings, Angel wings. I don't say anything. I want to but I'm tongue tied. I scan his back and stop at the blue bruises around his sides.