Forearm Dove Tattoo Novels & Stories

Hoping he’d say he thought of her first. “I did,” Orion replied. “But then I remembered they went to Becca’s grandmother’s today. So they aren’t in.” The hope deflated quietly. He lifted a hand and ruffled his damp hair, droplets falling to the floor. Vera watched the motion, stunned by how something so simple could look so dangerously attractive. She had never pictured Orion as a man with tattoos—but there they were. A black band wrapped around one forearm. A bird inked along the other, stretching upward, partially hidden by his sleeve. That same arm bore other markings—needles, knives, a skull, symbols she couldn’t fully make out.

“Turn him over.” Dawson frowned. “Sir?” “Turn the damn body over,” I thundered at him. With some effort, Hughes and Dawson carefully turned the corpse. My gaze swept over the back it was barely burnt like the other parts of his body but something was missing. Exhaling sharply. “Where’s his tattoo?” Dawson blinked. “Tattoo?” I balled my hands curled into a fist. “Alfredo had a tattoo on his left arm, a dragon tattoo. He also had a phoenix tattoo It covered nearly half of his back.” I pointed to the unmarked, burned but strangely bare skin. “There’s nothing here.”

By the time I lifted my gaze, Elion was already sitting in front of me just like Hael. His shirt was off his body. His back was bare and I saw his tattoo. Unlike Hael's, his were bold, colorful, and very vibrant, stretching from his shoulder blades to his lower back. It was a Phoenix. A big one. With large wings inked in gold, red, and black colours. The beak was open, as if it were screeching. Its talons extended as if it had just risen from ashes. It looked powerful, just like Elion.

The symbols seemed to have extended. In Arerat, the tattoo was a butterfly in my palm and claw prints under it, down to below my wrist. But right now, it was extended down to the back of my elbow, just below my upper arm. The last pair of claw prints that lay in-between the upper arm and the lower arm began to glow warmly. I could feel a soul connection with it. It's the exact feeling I got when Little Wolfy gave me its blood essence from it's glabella to join the contract of beast and beast tamer. It was as if I just...

I heard him say to her once their lips parted. “I missed you too, babe. I just put dinner on the table, go wash up.” She said. He turned with her in his arms and looked at me. “Rayne, I see you’ve met my mate, Jae. Join us for dinner?” He asked. It was only then that I realized that both of them shared the same mark. Perched on the Wolf's neck, right where his shoulder met the curve of his collarbone, was a delicate, deep orange dove in mid-flight, its wings outstretched and frozen in time. Beneath the dove, two circles intertwined, forming an elegant, harmonious design.

Each man wore the mark. Different symbols etched into skin: a serpent coiled around a sword on the left forearm of one, twin wolves snarling beneath a bleeding moon on the wrist of another, a skeletal crown on the palm of a third, and a phoenix swallowing its own tail just above the elbow of the last. Each tattoo pulsed faintly, dark and ancient, remnants of an allegiance born of secrecy, ambition, and old blood.

It made me want to reach out and trace the hard lines as well as the tattoos on it. He turned slightly and I caught sight of the rest of his body. The tattoo also covered the left side of his chest, black ink used to drag large wings. It was a raven, it was so detailed down to the sharp talons and the glint of its beady eyes. There were other drawings like a rose with the letter “E”. What does that mean? Family? Or perhaps..a lover? For some reason that thought made me bitter. Beneath it was a phrase written in Latin that flowed into his ribs.

As my eyes follow his neck I find our mark sitting there like the most beautiful tattoo with its simplicity. The triple moon sits on our neck, the outlines clean and crisp. Inside the full moon sits two paw darkened paw prints. Three stars connected by thin lines rest above the full moon and waning crescent. Tracing the image I enjoy watching Damon shiver while I whisper, "it's beautiful."

Perhaps the recent events were showing her a rather depressing answer. She just smiled down at the eagle tattoo that she had on her right wrist. It had the savanna skyline wrapped around like the band, while the eagle head was in the center. The lion tattoo on Gryphon’s arm did survive long enough for it to show properly, and she hoped for it to stay as long as it would. Ten years more… and perhaps, along with their wedding vows, they could retouch their wedding tattoos.

When she finally stepped out, droplets sliding down her thighs, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her cheeks were still flushed, her lips slightly swollen from biting them too hard. Her eyes were glassy with something unspoken. And when she turned, she saw it again — the mark on her left hip. A tattoo - like crest. Etched into her skin like a brand. It shimmered faintly in the light, elegant yet powerful. A circular sigil framed by olive leaves and ancient runes, with an owl perched atop a spear pointed downward, its wings wrapped protectively around the circle.