Gladiolus Tattoo Novels & Stories

Kai hissed, eyeing the surrounding people. The doors to the Gallery burst open and four people rushed in. Three women and one man. The man wore a satchel across his shoulder. He's an elderly man with faded warrior tattoos, but the Gold tattoos on his hands that signifies him as a healer were still shining brightly as if he just got them painted.

It’s unmistakably Cornelius’ insignia. “Woah,” Theo breathes. “How have we not found out about this before?” Raff grunts in frustration. “I’m not sure if the new generation is still marking themselves like this, but if we are going to convince them that Luke is one of Cornelius’ originals, he’s going to need one,” Robert explains. “How do I get one of those?” Luke asks. “I’m assuming I can’t just ask a regular tattoo artist to do it.” “No, it’s not a tattoo, it’s a brand. Before healing, the wound is packed with powdered gemstones, so fine that they’re undetectable without using our powers to see them. The branding kit should be with Cornelius’ belongings,” Robert says.

Paul added, obviously uncomfortable with the tears. I covered my whole face as I hunched over slightly, sobbing into them. A sign of an elite warrior, one that had been trained and passed their tests, was a tattoo. It spread from shoulder, across the back and to the other shoulder. Each one was slightly different, tailored to the warrior but within a pack, there was always a specific design. It meant the world to me that they would gift me this. “Skylar.” Someone took my hands and held them. Carl was on one knee in front of me. He was smiling as reached up and brushed tears from my cheek.

All of them had a silver hue, yet it was clear that they were not crafted from actual silver. One had a small ruby, another had elegant cursive inscriptions, and another had delicate floral etchings. I couldn't help but admire the intricate artwork that adorned his arm, from his fingers all the way up to his wrist. "What is the significance of this?" I gently ran my fingers over one of the intricate tattoos on his arm. The elegant script, adorned with delicate vines, roses, and lotus flowers, intrigued me, even though I couldn't decipher the Greek letters.

Gianna gazed down at her wrist, looking at the small tattoo she got in her teenage years. It was a dandelion, some of the seeds scattered as if blown by the wind, forming a small musical note. Nothing about the drawing was unique, as surely, a lot of women already had the same tattoo as hers now. She had been thinking about erasing it many times over but decided not to. The black ink looked good in her milky skin, but she would rather it stayed hidden.

Jostling his shirt to reveal the many tattoos under the grease-stained wife-beater. From his cuffed shirt, a dark but shaded sleeve of thorny roses, clocks, and crosses cover his right arm, while a spiralling black dragon travels around his left. Spine and scales shaded in, with burgundy lines that fade to a light crimson down its tail that hides below his classic wristwatch. Lucian Slater: Hey, bud. He crouches on one knee to greet his son's tight hug. Lucian Slater: I'm sorry I'm late. Gael Slater:

Esmeray held her forearm up, examining the intricate tattoo that adorned her skin. The tattoo depicted a majestic wolf, its eyes fierce and determined, surrounded by swirling patterns that seemed to dance with a life of their own. The lines were bold and precise, giving the impression of strength and resilience. “This tattoo is so unique,” Esmeray remarked, tracing her fingers over the contours of the design. “I’ve always felt a connection to it, but I never knew why.”

"A new tattoo? I'm in." Noah was more solemn. "It is a vow. Not just of love, but of rule. A promise etched in skin." Elias was there, to guide the magic. Using a blend of Dawnfire silver and pack-gold pigment, he worked on each of us. The old mate mark, the single sun, did not vanish. It became the center of something new. On my chest, the sun was now embraced by a crescent moon (for Neal's spirit) and was rooted by a winding, flowering vine (for my growth and lineage).

Lucien's attention sharpened instantly. "What tattoo? Any particular details you remember?" he asked, leaning forward slightly, his voice quieter but urgent. Elara closed her eyes for a moment, replaying the image. "I don't remember everything… but it looked like a sword. And… a flower at the top of the sword. Something like that." She opened her eyes and nodded faintly, as if convincing herself. "Yes… a sword and a flower." A soft gasp escaped both Lucien and Ragnar at the same time.

“That grove we used to play in. We turned it into a memorial for the dead. For each wolf we plant a gladiolus. When they bloom, it’s stunning.” Images of the grove filled his mind. He had spent many days walking through it, remembering those who had given their lives for the pack, certain he would be among them one day too. There was hope now. A new ally, a new love, a future getting brighter each day. He hoped it was a long time before someone planted his own gladiolus in that grove. “There’s still so much I don’t know about you.” A wistful smile traced his mate’s lips. “Like these.” Her fingers brushed over the many small scars littering his hands. “How did you get these?”