Forearm Angel Of Death Tattoo Novels & Stories

"Is that what the tattoo is for? Your Mom?" She slowly nods her head and averts her gaze back towards the window, her tattoo peeking out just a smidge above her uniform collar. "For her... and my Dad. Black angel wings usually represent fallen angels. My Mom and Dad? They were my angels." Silence looms over us as I pull into the department parking lot and turn the engine off. "Will you talk to him for me, Crayvin? Just check on him for me, please? I don't want him alone, and you two are close. He probably needs you more than you think right now, even if he isn't ready to admit that to you, yet."

He was convinced that this was all the magic of her intense love. "Undress me, Angel," he told her between his pantings. Angela begin undoing his buttons. A gasp escaped her mouth when she noticed the same tattoo she had. Their wedding date. There was one more right below the date. It was a heart and it had hers and Nigela's name written inside it. The tattoo was squeezed in between his other tatts but were strikingly distinct. It appeared as all his other tattoos revolved around them. As if those were the centerpieces of his world. Angela's eyes watered.

"I was going to make you my pathetic slave for people of all kingdoms to see, but you have insulted my mercy. Now I will sow death in your blood." The dark angel raises his hand and his fingers strangely starts to lengthen. The skin of his hand turns dark and the lengthening fingers bony. I jump in front of my beautiful mate before the hand of death reaches him.

It smells almost familiar and distant. Opening the first page, it described the gods that had ruled centuries ago. I was shocked when I got to the line that pointed out the unity between humans, angels, werewolves, and vampires. I didn't even realize angels were a thing. In actuality, I thought the werewolves and vampires were fantasy. The mark behind me is also exactly like the birthmark of the angels. Whoever tattooed that on my back seemed to know the angels. I have no idea how I got the wings mark. But the nuns at the orphanage said I had it since birth.

Even asleep, his arm was wrapped around my waist with a firmness that said *you’re not going anywhere. Then I saw my wrist. Where the silver arrow had pierced me, where the wound should have left a scar, there was something else. A symbol. Small, the size of a coin, as if someone had engraved it with invisible ink that only showed under certain light. Angular lines curving into themselves, forming a pattern I recognized instantly. Dark Tongue. I had a demonic symbol tattooed on my wrist. *“Pretty, isn’t it?”* The inner voice. Soft, purring — like a cat stretching after a long nap.

“ You keep asking me the ,meaning behind the tattoo of Angel wings on my chest . Let me tell you then , the real reason behind this tattoos . “ said Antonio unbuttoning his shirt to the end and showing Damian a clear look of his two wings on the chest . “ These………are tattoos used to cover my wounds . “ said Antonio . “ Wounds ? “ asked Damian confused . “ Yeah ! Wounds………What kind of wounds do you think they are ? “ said Antonio with half a smile . Damian looked at the tattoos again with a shocked expression as they covered the wounds so perfectly to the point that it was impossible to tell whether they were truly wounds or not . “ Who dared to do those wounds to you ? Tell me ! I will kill

She was shy away and hid her in my chest. I placed her in a hot shower, pressing her back to me and kissed her neck. I was stunned when I opened my eyes. There was an old Italian tribal tattoo on her neck. What is it doing here? It was an arrow design with a crown holding double letter A. It was a symbol of the deity of death.

He groaned. “What the fuck do you want me to do, you psychopath?” It was just a superficial wound. I couldn’t believe this loser was the one I initially chose to get answers from. I flicked the lighter on and dipped the flame at the tip of the knife. “I don’t trust you to call off the plan. So I’m going to carve the message on your skin and have your minions read it.” Horror settled on his face. “You are the Angel of Death.”

I ask, knowing the answer is no. “I’m sorry Rosa. When Odessa intervened, she changed your fate.” I scoff as I look away. Cece whines in my head, but the angel is oddly quiet. “The line of Rosalie needed wiping from the earth. The Angel of Death is an omen. Especially to the gods. She represents the end. Zeus couldn’t have that.” I slowly shake my head, balling my fists to my sides. “He won’t stop will he?” I ask and he moves closer to me. He crouches in front of me and tilts my head back.

That was when I noticed the tattoos. His back was adorned with an intricate design of large black wings, streaked with delicate gold traces that shimmered faintly in the low light. The wings spanned across his shoulders and down his back, a masterpiece that was both beautiful and intimidating. They exuded a silent warning, a "do not mess with me" aura that fit him perfectly. Yet, despite their commanding presence, I felt no fear. This was Alessandro. The man who had carried me, who had stood by me even when I pushed him away. He wasn’t a threat—he was my protector.