Forearm Guardian Angel Angel Tattoo 소설 & 이야기

It’s said with respect. I step forward, Liam putting his arm out, holding me to the spot next to him. “I’m the Guardian, my name is Angel. What do you want?” I ask him. “I am King Urien, Guardian. I understand that you have had a bad experience with some of my brethren.” “Those ‘brethren’ are dead.” Liam growls at him.

Here I thought his tattoos were only on his hands but turns out it wasn't only them. His back was full of tattoos but one caught my attention in particular, it looked like an Angel that's on its knees, the wings looked broken and above it were two hands, holding one another tightly with the word brother written underneath them and above the Angel… the fallen angel. Ray loved his brothers more than I could ever imagine, to the point where he tattooed his own body with a constant reminder of it. Something I could never have unless it's Malia we are talking about. Alana, focus.

An artist from the wrong side of the river who didn't belong here. _*]:min-w-0 gap-3"> "A tattoo artist," he said. "That explains the ink. May I?" _*]:min-w-0 gap-3"> He gestured to my arm, and I extended it without thinking. _*]:min-w-0 gap-3"> His fingers wrapped around my wrist, cool and precise, turning my arm to examine the tattoos. A geometric mandala on my inner forearm. Script in Sanskrit along the outer edge. A phoenix rising from ashes near my elbow.

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.

This time, it’s on me. That’s why in this second life, I wanted to be the brave girl. This time, I promised to face the problem head on even though I was weak. "Is that why another star was added to your tattoo? Because of what happened to Angela?" I asked, placing my hand on top of his. The pad of my thumb caressing his tattoo. "Yes. Right now, I have my two angels from above watching me to go on with life and this time, do it right."

The icy blast would’ve made anyone else recoil, but Dante stood there, solid and unmoving, like he was made of stone. His back was a canvas of ink, just like his front. The artwork was nothing short of breathtaking. Spanning across his entire back was a massive, detailed tattoo—an angel, powerful and divine, standing within the ruins of an ancient temple. The wings spread wide across his shoulder blades, reaching toward his arms, while crumbling pillars surrounded the figure in dramatic grayscale contrast. It wasn’t just a tattoo; it was a story, a testament, a work of devotion etched forever into his flesh. It was absolutely beautiful—mesmerizing, even.

The light scattering of hair on his lower abdomen disappeared into the towel and the only thing marring the beauty of his skin was the angry red mark on his chest, just a few inches away from his heart where he had been shot yesterday. Now that he was finally unclothed, I was able to see the tattoo on his left arm. It was a picture of a phoenix in flight and it was magnificent. The artist had focused on every tiny detail down to the red eye of the phoenix and somehow, it suited him. He was just as majestic as the bird.

version of his outfit, he wears a black tank top with the Crownsguard's insignia in gray. He has a small arm sleeve over his left wrist, and wears black shoes with red soles. He has amber eyes and a long scar over his left eye. He has a large tattoo of a bird of prey that covers his entire back and extends down his arms. The full tattoo is visible with the rugged attire from his pack. The tattoo is for male line of the Amicitia, and is the credential of the King's Shield rather than a family crest, the family members getting their tattoo when they become one of the shield.

It was a photo of her, looking weak and frail, nestled in a man's arms. His face was deliberately out of frame, but the tattoo visible just above his wrist made my heart stop. An ancient vampire sigil. Identical to the one on my own wrist. Our matching tattoo. The caption read: *"So lucky my guardian angel is always there when I need him most."* I let out a cold laugh and dialed Alistair's number. The voice that answered wasn't his. “Oh, is that you, sister?” Isabella's voice was sickly sweet. “Alistair’s a little busy right now. He's comforting me after my… ordeal.”

That is, if you ignored her beauty and sensuality. As Sharon greeted me, sunlight from one of the hallway windows illuminated her arm for a moment. That’s when something caught my attention. When she extended her hand to greet me, her sleeve lifted slightly, revealing a small tattoo on her wrist. A blue falcon. My stomach churned instantly. That same bird was the symbol of the gang that had recently threatened me. The mark was unmistakable. But how could she have something like that? This was too much of a coincidence.