Spider Tattoo Forearm Novels & Stories

Then he looked at the fourth one and just waited. The fourth one stepped back. Smart. The referee rang the bell. The crowd went loud. The man stood in the middle of it all, chest rising and falling, sweat gleaming under the lights, and looked completely unbothered. Like he had just taken a short walk. Then I saw his forearm. The tattoo. Dark ink, detailed, curling up from his wrist toward his elbow. A dragon, scales and lines I could actually make out now in the better light. My breath left my body.

Relief settles for a heartbeat—my pack is safe. “Rhett,” Laura sighs. “Tell me already, what the hell is going on with you?” “I don’t want to talk about it.” I glare at her. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to be alone.” I turn and head for my apartment. Inside, I strip off my clothes. I’ve been holding back from checking the stabbing pain in my chest. I turn to the mirror— And freeze. A tattoo runs across my back, down into my chest. A river of blue light twists into a crescent moon. Inside the glow, faint outlines of wolves howl and run, their forms made of mist and stars. The whole thing pulses like a living vein under my skin.

Then she took a good look at his tattoos. Her gaze traced the ink that stretched across his chest, dark and patterned against his golden skin. The tattoo sprawled over his left pectoral, a fierce black wolf, its eyes red and dangerous, as if it could leap off his skin and bare its fangs at her. The details were breathtaking, each strand of fur etched with perfection.

"I haven’t heard from her in weeks. Seeing as you’re calling, I guess she must be okay?" Maddox shot me a look. "I haven’t heard from her in weeks either," He replied. "But I got your number from her months ago. I suddenly got the urge to get that tattoo she wouldn't stop raving about. But just to be clear, you did the tattoo on her waist right?” The artist let out a chuckle. "Ah, I see. You must mean the spider tattoo—lower right side of her waist?" My breath caught in my throat.

My breath hitched as I caught sight of it in the mirror he pulled out of my bag—a faint yet intricate design swirling across my collar bone, glowing faintly silver before settling into a deep, ink-like black. The tattoo was mesmerizing, an elegant crescent moon at its core, its curves etched with delicate runes that seemed ancient and alive. Surrounding the crescent, fine lines branched out like veins, forming patterns resembling intertwining vines and stars, as though the night sky itself had been imprinted onto my skin. The vines wrapped gently outward, framing the crescent in an intricate lattice of beauty and mystery, their edges tapering off just shy of my collarbone. At the crescent’s

“I need the ink.” “What colors?” He asked. “Each pile gets a black. The second one gets three.” Alec did as I asked. “The fourth is a water color tattoo so I need one pink, purple, blue, green and yellow. This one is red and orange.” “Four tattoos today?” Alex asked. “Yeah, they are all big tattoos and not much pain tolerance.” “Mine is itching like crazy.” “Turn around and lift your shirt up.” I said rolling my eyes. Grabbing the numbing lotion, I put it on his back. He even keeled for me but I caught him looking at me in the mirror.

Dustin sneered. “Certainly not. If you tell me, I can leave one person alive, but if you don’t, I’m going to annihilate your entire family.” Brennan’s face turned grim, but in the end, he could only sigh. Then, he whispered, “I can tell you that the person who gave the orders that day was someone with a red spider lily tattoo on the back of his hand.” Dustin’s face froze. Some organizations used tattoos to mark their members. That was a very common thing.

Then I heard the grunting. We followed the sound, and in the middle of the room, James had a man pinned down. My other bodyguards stood still, waiting. The man’s head lifted, his face drenched in sweat. His arm twisted, and that’s when I saw it—the tattoo. A spider with a woman’s face on its body. Our eyes locked. Dwayne stepped closer, his voice cold. “I’m disappointed.” The man started to pant, trembling under James’s grip. Dwayne’s lips curled. “I’m going to enjoy ripping out your bones.”

The two noticed it was only Yamato. Without his cloak Yamato's heavily tattooed arms could be seen. The most notable tattoos were the kanji on his left arm that read "Even humans can be gods" while on his right it was a man climbing a spider's thread. He was wearing a tight black shirt, black gloves, and black pants. His face had a stern expression that seemed almost frozen with how stiff it was. "Where are the others?" Peter asked. 'You'd think he was a grim with that outfit.' Oliver thought.

Alexander turned sharply, irritation flaring—then stopped. In the man’s palm lay a small black box, no larger than a matchbox. Its surface was matte, faintly warm, as though it had just been held. Etched into its lid was an intricate crimson carving. A red spider lily. The flower seemed almost alive in the low light—its petals curved like flames, blooming darkly, violently, like blood against black stone. Alexander’s breath stilled. He recognised it instantly. The same pattern. The same unmistakable design as the tattoo on her back.