Roman Numeral Hand Tattoo Novels & Stories

My wolf really had plans to devour me! “I don’t have second thoughts,” I said as I watched him come and sit beside me and take my hand. I swear every time he held me, I felt a jolt upon contact. He ran his finger over the ring. “I wish I could carve you beneath my skin,” he said and pointed to his tattoo on his chest. My mouth fell to the floor. Right over there, over the rose wines that entwined around his wolf was a small line of letters that ran all over the vines. I brought my finger over there and ran it across the letters. He had my name etched over it.

He nodded and I touched his hand. His hand was so big. Trust me, if he tells you that I was attacked by a shark you'd believe it. His hand had a lot of scars and I'm pretty sure this Datura Flower tattoo is covering a bad scar oh and it has a tiny text underneath… Co-sa No-stra. What's that? “Cosa Nostra. What does it mean?” I asked as I read the tiny text under the Datura Flower. “I'll have to kill you if I tell you.”

The hoodie draped loosely over his head, obscuring his face, but the flicker of city lights occasionally illuminated the sharp lines of his jaw and the hints of a sinister smirk playing on his lips. The wind picked up, a fierce breeze whipping across the rooftop and causing the hood to flutter. As the fabric shifted, it revealed a chiseled, muscular torso adorned with intricate tattoos, each line telling a story of violence, power, and mystery. Prominently displayed on the left side of his chest was a large, bold tattoo—the words *Nosce Hostem* inked in a jagged, menacing script that seemed almost to pulse with life against his skin. The tattoo, a clear message, spoke of a deep connection to

He seemed to be wide awake too, judging by the way he breathed. I pulled away and propped myself on my elbow, trailing my hand up his stomach and over his hard chest. I looked down at his tattoos, studying the dark imagery he wore across his skin, a scythe from the undertaker, a phrase in Latin, the Roman numeral for five, all kinds of stuff that made sense to him and no one else. He watched me stare at him, moving his hand up to brush my hair out of my face. “You’d look hot with ink.”

"I'll be enjoying every moment of it." My cheeks are steaming red and glancing over at Galina, she is also blushing with her gaze downcast. She proffers me her hand and I wordlessly take it as I'm burning with fury inside over the dastard. My eyes catch sight of the tattoo on his muscled upper arm. The black ink of the Christian Cross encircled by a fierce Dragon, made a dramatic striking contrast against his fair skin. Some girls would think it was bad of a guy, however, to me it was bad news about a guy.

Roman stands from the bed completely naked without a shred of shame, and I immediately turn around. “Roman!” “What?” He asks innocently. “You are unbelievable.” A chuckle leaves him. I hear the rustle of fabric before he finally pulls on a pair of gray sweatpants. When I turn back around cautiously, he’s walking toward the bedroom door shirtless, completely at ease. And for one dangerous moment… I forget to panic because his back catches my attention. More specifically, the tattoo covering it and I freeze. It stretches across his shoulder blades in dark intricate ink, a wolf beneath a crescent moon standing beside a field of wildflowers. My breath catches.

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.

Didn't even draw the curtains. He tore his robe open, revealing a body forged in violence and power. There were no ugly scars like the rumors said. Just perfect lines of muscle, and… A tattoo, right over his heart. It was an intricate design—a black mamba coiled around a thorny rose. And in the center of the rose, two letters were tattooed in elegant script: O.R. Odessa Rossi. My name. My breath hitched. "This is…" My fingers trembled as I reached out. The skin was still raised, the ink barely set.

“Your tattoos are beautiful.” I look at the tattoo of a skull surrounded by black flames. My whole right arm is decorated with tattoos from shoulder to wrist. My skin prickles with every caress of her fingers, but I don’t stop her from touching me. The tattoo sleeve has several tribal symbols, and there are a seal trident and a frogman tattoo on my shoulder. Each tattoo represents something in my life. The skull represents my status as an Assassin, and the cross is a play on my name. Her finger moves down the line of my intricate cross, then to the inside of my rib cage, where I have an inscription. Qui velit, ut vivat in aeternum.

And finally, on the back, there is a large phoenix with a cursive name on the top. Obscurité. Darkness. "I have another one in my hand." He showed his hand with a tattoo of a skull. "How come I have never noticed those?" I asked with surprised, never in life, I saw those tattoos. This is insane I'm must be going crazy. "Calm down the one on my hand I just got like last week." He chuckled and I sighed. "This is beautiful." I said in admiration as I gazed at his tattoos on his hand and his left arm.