Memorial Forearm Tattoos Novels & Stories

A wolf with red eyes and a dagger through his head. “That’s Dimitri’s tattoo! He has one like this on his forearm. Obviously, a lot more intricate than this, but the likeness is uncanny,” she couldn’t believe it. Dimitri, her friend, and confidant who was there for her in her hour of need. “Why would he do something like this?”

Why the wind decided to seek me out now was just a poetic justice. Taking off his shirt I finally saw those muscles in full. For the last day I had seen hints of them. His arms were the most striking to me at the time but those abs. They crawled up his stomach with two black tattoos on each of his pecks. Paw prints? “What are those about?” I pointed to my own chest then to him. Looking down he twitched slightly before shrugging, “Just something my brothers and I do when we start training. Conrad chose lines, Alfred chose stars. It’s like a a symbol that we have completed training.”

He looked at me as though I was faking my feelings. “Are you done with your drama? Or whatever the fuck that is?” he smirked, “you’ve ruined the fun” he retorted, standing up straight and pulling both his sleeve higher up his arm, his arms were covered with tattoos, these are new? The last time I saw Mateo he had just one, his mother’s name on his left shoulder. Every pattern of his tattoos was unique, there was a phoenix on his left arm, but it was bathed in blood, what could be the story behind that I wondered.

“I don’t know if it applies, but I am gonna try.” Roslyn was going to retort that he could try all he wanted…But then she gasped when she saw his chest. He was broad and well muscled. His right arm was covered with tattoos from shoulder to wrist while his left arm was covered with even more tattoos by his shoulder. The name Monster was written in black ink along his forearm. Roslyn had to wonder how he got the name Monster in the first place, well besides his size. She bit her lip to hide her snicker. Or his disposition… it could be that too.

He pushed the stiff fabric of the sleeve up the dead man’s forearm. There, on the inside of the wrist, was a tattoo. It was not a military insignia or a prison marking. It was elegant, almost scholarly. A stylized, open compass, one point resting on a single, horizontal line. Above the line were three small, precise stars. Below it, a crescent moon. It was an emblem, a sigil. Anton’s blood turned to ice. He knew this symbol. He had seen it before, etched into the corner of a faded, sepia-toned photograph in his father’s private study, tucked inside a ledger of old, defunct holding companies.

My dad’s face became clenched tight as his eyes stared straight at what Beau was showing them. It was the children of Gaia symbol, and for the life of me, I didn’t understand how Beau now also had it scarred into the palm of his hand. Our members all got the children of Gaia symbol tattooed against their shoulders once they were eighteen, Beau had his symbol tattooed on his right shoulder as was our custom.

At least they will get to share something special together. My red dress clings tightly to my figure and frames my cleavage, the slit up the side making my family tattoo visible. The tattoo is of a fighting wolf and snake, their bodies entwining around my thigh. It’s our mark of honor as alpha daughters, usually appearing when we come of age. Mine made its debut on the night my mother died.

Somehow. Shrugging, I'm about to place the frame back in its place, but I freeze at the sight of the man's arms. His right arm was outstretched clearly depicting a tattoo that I immediately recognized. I'd seen a fair share of tattoos in the past, and I'd met a number of people with similar tattoos. But this one was nothing ordinary. It read 'Angela' same as the one I remembered. Coincidence? I bet not.

Third, final, likely fatal mistake: calling him by the wrong name. Desmond is still staring expectantly at me, arms crossed, while I spiral out. Because it's too humiliating to make eye contact right now, I focus on his tattoos. Trees with bare branches etched in black, moon phases blazing a path down his forearm, waves curling around his bicep, all flowing together into a design that looks wild and elemental. There's an artistry to them. I want him to tell me the meaning behind each of them. I want to feel them wrapped around my body. Holding me.

It's only after a deep velvety voice caresses my ear canals, that I open my eyes I comprehend that I haven’t hit the ground. I become increasingly aware of the warmth of huge muscular hands around my waist just below my breast. The smooth velvety warm caramel skin clung to seductive massive curves of muscle, trailing up to broad full shoulders Outlined in what appeared to be intricate golden tattoo ink in hieroglyphic patterns some I recognized like the Ankh the Egyptian representation of life on his rose gold armored gauntlets, others were completely unrecognizable to me with their intricate curves.