Forearm Dove Tattoo Novels & Stories

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.

His big forehead wrinkled up like a plowed field. "But I could have sworn," he said, and he pushed his stool back and stood up. The stool groaned in relief. He walked around the table, moving closer to her, his eyes fixed on the exposed tattoos on her arms. The torn sleeves of Draevon's shirt had slipped down, revealing more ink. Dark lines. Twisting patterns. Old symbols that most people did not recognize. He reached out one of his big hands. His finger stretched toward her arm, toward a specific spot near her elbow where a small mark was hidden among the other lines.

Then he looked at the fourth one and just waited. The fourth one stepped back. Smart. The referee rang the bell. The crowd went loud. The man stood in the middle of it all, chest rising and falling, sweat gleaming under the lights, and looked completely unbothered. Like he had just taken a short walk. Then I saw his forearm. The tattoo. Dark ink, detailed, curling up from his wrist toward his elbow. A dragon, scales and lines I could actually make out now in the better light. My breath left my body.

said Tucker, his black plaits hanging down his rippling back. “I will,” offered the tattooed Hayden. Removing his jacket, the delicate inking down his arms was on full display. His forearms were a menagerie of every animal and bird, all gently entwined in delicate ivy and branches. “Oh thank you so much!” Naomi simpered before putting her fists up and bouncing so her tits jiggled. /Unfair advantage right there/ Rush complained remembering how easily we were fooled as teens. Repeatedly.

Artemy would only ever give me pleasure. My hand moved to his back, and my fingers traced the bird tattoo that covered half of his back and around his shoulder blades. The bird looked like it was rising from fire, but the design was beautifully executed. Every time I looked at it, I was completely mesmerized. Artemy’s muscles flexed under my wandering and exploring touch. “What type of bird is this?” I asked curiously, my fingers tracing his spread wings. “It’s a Leon,” he muttered in reply. “I got it the day I took over as Boss.”

Chapter 80 Next, I gestured to the dove gracefully perched on an olive tree branch. "The dove represents peace, a universal symbol of harmony and tranquility. The olive tree branch signifies unity, reminding us of the importance of coming together to build a better world." As my gaze swept over the painting, I focused on the vibrant flowers blooming around the baby and dove. "The flowers represent beauty and perfection, reminding us to find joy in the simple things and appreciate the beauty that surrounds us."

I admit, relieved. Her hand remains on my bicep. Encouraged, I scoot a little closer. She tilts her head, her eyes soft in the starlight. “Why ‘Dove’?” I smile. “Doves symbolize purity, love, and devotion. All the things I’ve always seen in you.” Her laughter is full-throated, musical. “Liam, I am far from innocent.” I chuckle. “Maybe it’s my innocence I want to give you.”

“I’m worshipping. There’s a difference.” Kai’s breath hitched as Damien’s thumb dragged over the phoenix’s head, right above his left nipple. The tattoo was intricate—flames curling in shades of red, orange, and deep black ink that seemed to flicker in the low light. It stretched from just below his collarbones down to the bottom of his ribs, wings wrapping around his sides. Geometric patterns from his full sleeves connected to it, making the entire piece feel alive on his lean-muscled swimmer’s build.

It was so abrupt but needed. “You okay?” His hand touched my arm. The one with the tattoo. I grabbed it, holding it up so I could feel it. I couldn’t see it anymore in the dark, but I knew it was there. I traced my fingers over it, feeling his skin. “Why do you have a tattoo that usually means peace?” He tensed. “What?” “The dove. The rays of sun. Your life is not about peace.” He didn’t answer right away. “Because there was a time in my life when I needed some. So I got it.”

It took us so long to get her back, I was dreading losing her, but I wouldn’t keep her in the dark about it. Walk into the room and see Joker with a new tattoo on his forearm; it appears to be a symbol and a pattern of something ancient. Something you would think a warrior would choose for himself for protection. All of his tattoos made no sense to anyone but Joker. I doubt anyone would be brave enough to question him. Glancing over at Queenie, I see her left forearm has black lace starting to connect the empty spaces to complete her sleeve. It looked so real, like you could pick it up off her skin.