Tattooed Wife Novels & Stories

A man asked while coming into the foyer along with another guy. Both of them looked awfully similar just like twins. The only difference was one guy had a tattoo of a cross on his cheek. "Axel Knight's wife," Simon mused, and both the other pale-looking guys looked at her surprised. "You f*cking kidding me?" The tattooed guy said, walking over to her as he stood very close to her and flicked her hair back from her shoulder. She had her fingers curled into fists on her sides to stop the trembling.

A private dinner for two on the top floor of the Eiffel Tower, candlelight illuminating their intertwined fingers. There was even a photo from a tattoo parlor. Dominic stood bare-chested in the mirror, the tattoo artist’s needle piercing his chest, directly over the heart. Where my name used to be: Elena Moretti, in elegant script, surrounded by rose vines. The year we got married, he’d gotten it done while drunk. He showed it to me afterward, beaming. "Elena, this is proof I love you." I cried from the pain, but he held my hand, laughing like a child, "Knowing your name will always be on my heart, it's worth any pain."

Moments later, his warm release spilled over my chest. I look at my Arab husband’s toned body and the small tattoo of a triangle with spheres at each corner, representing the three of us, and inside it, four smaller spheres representing our children. He got the tattoo as soon as Mahjub was born, right before we had to return to Brazil. "It's my turn now," Bruno says, stepping out from behind me and positioning himself in front of me. I run my hand over my breasts, wiping away Hassan’s streams. Smiling, I stick out my tongue and approach the erection of my first husband. I feel Hassan grab my hair and position himself exactly where Bruno had just been.

I should have ignored it, should have rolled over and forced myself to sleep, but of course I looked up, because I’m weak like that, and that’s when I saw it. Tattoos. I blinked. My mouth actually fell open. Damon Thornvale, my obsessive Alpha, my terrifying husband, my monster had tattoos now. Dark, twisting lines etched over his chest and arms, sliding around scars, making him look even more dangerous, even more untouchable, even more… mine. “Oh my God,” I whispered before I could stop myself, my brain short-circuiting. “You actually got tattoos. I thought you were joking when you said it” My eyes kept moving, tracing every curve, every inked shadow, and my mouth wouldn’t shut up.

“Hi.” The man settled beside her, and I didn’t miss the tattoo that was plastered from his neck down to wherever. He was supposed to look scary, but he was smiling instead. He and the lady had a matching tattoo on their wrists too and I glanced at Mason to introduce us. “This is Kirill, my best friend. And this is his wife, Kiara.” “K and K,” the man leaned forward and said, pointing his index finger at the woman and then at himself.

Sebastian Vance stared at the flickering television screen, entranced by the image of Luna, his former wife, beaming with a fire that had long been extinguished in their shared life. The news anchor spoke of her recent success, a tribute to her resilience that only fueled the dark remnants of his obsession. He could feel the familiar burn in his chest of anger, jealousy, and an insatiable hunger to reclaim the control he once had.

Because I know that hand. That’s my husband’s hand. Same small heart tattoo on his finger, the one he got to symbolize that even if he lost his ring, we’re still married. The ring is gone though. But the tattoo? Still there in color. My jaw tightens. Her caption reads: had an awesome morning… hope to have an even better night. Oh. Now I’m pissed. At this rate, Shane is slipping right through my fingers. And I’m not about to let some skank bitch take my husband.

My roommate, John Swift, asked in shock, “Pete, are you throwing that away? I thought you cherished that photo a lot.” I shook my head and cut Bella out of the family portrait. I tore it into pieces. John seemed to understand. “Pete, is your wife alive?” I pulled out my phone. Someone had sent me a text two weeks ago. [Bella’s still alive.] There was a photo attached to the message. It was a selfie of Bella and Carlson. Two weeks ago, I found out that my wife, who had supposedly been dead for five years, was still alive. When I first found out the news, I could not even sleep.

"I LOVE YOU, BABY... HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" After what Katleah had done, he lavished her with kisses again, this time all over her body. Looking down, he was shocked to see his name inscribed on the left side of her breasts. It has a little heart at the start and end of each letter. The words "I heart You, Marco Dela Vega" have been carved into her skin. Surprised, he looked up at his wife. "Babe, did you get a tattoo?" his voice sounded disgusted.

The tattoo man's expression turned curious, "So, do you like him?" Emily shook her head again, "No, I'm still married." The tattoo man's confusion was evident, "Married?" He paused, his hands hovering over his tattoo machine. "You nodded... but then said you're married? Or not?" Emily sighed, "Long story... it's all behind me now. Let's just say I'm kind of... not married again." The tattoo man's eyes narrowed, "You're talking crazy, girl! You sound even weirder the more you speak!"