Rosary Hand Tattoo Men Novels & Stories

He called me naughty, but he didn't say no. The post showed two hands intertwined. On the man's inner wrist was a circlet of sacred laurel leaves—the soul-bond mark the High Priest himself had inked on us at our engagement. But in this photo, hidden in the veins of a single leaf, were three tiny, exquisitely tattooed letters: S.E.R. I scrolled back to the very first post, from a year ago: “Just ran into the Alpha and his woman. He's so gentle and strong. I want a man like that… so I'm going to make him mine.”

His hair was wet, and he had nothing but boxers on. I had a vivid view of his tattoos. Adorning his back was a fierce-looking wolf, jaws agape and poised to seize its prey. On his chest, a heart ensnared in thorny vines bled profusely, the tendrils winding their way to a blossoming rose, seemingly coloured by the lifeblood drawn from the heart. Positioned on the left side of his chest was a strikingly fierce yet captivating eagle. Additional intricate designs adorned his arms, crafted with bold strokes of black ink. The well-defined muscles accentuated the synergy between his movements and the artistic lines. I found myself pondering about the talented artist behind these captivating creatio

On the left side of his back, I saw a compass tattoo. But what piqued my curiosity the most was a lone tattoo at the left bottom of his back. There were two hands. One was big and bulky, indicating that it was of man's. The other was slim and slightly smaller in size, indicating that it was of a woman's. Both hands were at a little distance away from each other and were connected through the chains. They were facing away from each other as if trying to oppose the chains. Beneath the tattoo, I noticed some lettering.

He took a sip of his drink and I noticed he has a rose tattoo on his left hand, his black jet hair is slicked back with jell, and small strands of hair rested on his forehead. Light scruff covered his jaw, he had beautiful honey tint eyes but they didn't have life nor did they look dead. It showed that he had a lot of secrets and was heartbroken. He's scared to open up again, scared to trust someone with his fragile heart. I was curious about him. We both silently gaze at each other like we're hungry lions revolting for the last meal. You could sense the tension that's slowly building up between us. Lust and rage. I lick my lips and slowly brush my hair off my shoulder. Giovanni clenches his

He said and grabbed my hand before I could touch a tattoo on his left side of chest. “What is the meaning of your tattoo, it’s beautiful.” I complimented a beautiful and unique design with something written in old language. His lips which were on my mid riff, stopped and those hazy eyes again locked with mine. Did I make a mistake? I promised not to dig into his personal life until he’s ready to share it with me. “It is an ancient Roman symbol of war and victory and the phrase defines a man who never sees the defeat.” He explained the meaning of his tattoo to me. I was surprised, he didn’t shut me out.

It was odd but something deep inside Duncan told him he could trust this man. “I’m a rogue.” forced Duncan, swallowing, his throat feeling raw and scratchy. “I know.” said the man turning away from Duncan and pouring him some water from a jug. Duncan blinked as the man turned away from him and he saw the back of his shirt. On the back of what looked like a perfectly normal white dress shirt was a large red cross, the horizontal bar was directly across the middle of the vertical one and each ‘leg’ of the cross flared out at the ends. Before Duncan could ask anything, the man turned back around and handed him the glass of water. As he took the glass Duncan saw strange tattoos on the man hands,

"They stopped suddenly, too, as if he thought we were a...lost cause." Tristan's gaze met hers. "Was there anything else you can recall about the man tonight?" She went to shake her head, but then something flickered to mind. "He had a tattoo on his left pec, over his heart. It was about three inches long." She straightened, making Brady shift his hand to her hip. "I need something to draw on." Ceara stood and went to a shelf, bringing back a pad of paper and pen.

Almost as if he styled it that way. The delicate tattoos that wrap around his wrist then spread down the backside of his hands. This is only the second time I've really noticed them. I grabbed his wrist and his purr stopped. I twisted his hand so I could see the back side of it. My eyes raked over the delicate tattoo. It was almost as if he was wearing a bracelet, it wrapped around his whole wrist. It was gorgeous and beautiful. Not manly, the lines weren't thick, no extravagant filled in areas. Just thin light swirls and lines around his wrist then down the top of his hand and onto the first knuckle of each finger.

One glance at Draven told me he was as tense as I felt, his jaw clenched so tightly I thought it might crack. "Pause it there." he said, his voice low but commanding. Alex, sitting at the computer, froze the footage, “What is it?" Draven leaned closer, his dark eyes narrowing as he pointed to the screen. "That guy’s hand. Look." I followed his gaze. At first, I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, but then I spotted it—a tattoo curling around the man’s wrist like a serpent. It was intricate, almost ritualistic in design.

I acknowledged and finally got a good look at the man, his chocolate skin stretched over his wide shoulders and my eye involuntarily followed the path of the tattoos littering his arms. The clearing of his throat snapped me from my inspection and my eyes flew to his, where almost black orbs stared at me with an eyebrow raised. “Sorry,” I mumbled, embarrassed to have been caught staring. “The right is of a phoenix rising from the ashes and the left is a wolf in the dark forest.” He smirked, turning sideways so I could see his ink clearer in the sun. “Do you mind me asking what it means?” I reached my hand out to run my fingers over the wolf’s canines.