Witcher Signs Tattoo Novels & Stories

It disappears beneath the fabric of the tank top, hinting at a larger tapestry that covers his torso. "What’s that one?" I point to a symbol on his rear deltoid. It looks like a wolf, but abstract, geometric. "Ink," he deadpans. "You don't say. I thought it was a very specific bruise." I lean closer, squinting. "It looks tribal. But not the I got drunk in Cancun kind of tribal. It looks meaningful. Is it a gang thing? A badge of honor for every time you successfully intimidated a client into silence?"

When Alpha Caprius smiles and extends his hand, I almost stop breathing. “Yes, sir.” I manage to whisper and give him my right hand. The Alpha’s hand feel warm and large when he twists my hand to reveal my wrist. “Alpha Caprius Strigon, 10th Alpha of pack Strigon, hereby grant this wolf my blessing to leave the boundary.” I wince in pain when the Alpha dug his nail into my wrist, drawing out blood as soon as he removes it. As blood pours out, it begins to seep into the skin around my wrist, forming a circular red tattoo.

The natural waist dropped into a sheer fabric with flowers stitched into it. The scars have relaxed and really created a pretty chain-link pattern. Although our wolves really worked on healing me, they are just now calming down and looking like regular scars. I have grown accustom to them to the point that I want to get them tattooed. As a symbol of my strength and determination to not let evil win. Soft music was playing as I paced around this tent. The only thing I knew about this event was the smell of lilacs. “Ready?” Colt lifted the side and stepped in.

But before my fingers can even touch it, a hand clamps around my wrist. My body goes tight with instinct, a breath away from lashing out. For some reason I do not know, I glance down and I freeze. A tattoo coils around the man’s forearm, dark in ink, old but clear and I see the tattoo of a crescent moon split by a fang, wrapped in black vines. The Nightwalker crest. Ezra’s mark. Fuck. Slowly, my eyes trail from the man’s forearm, up past the rolled sleeves stretched tight over his arms and across his solid, square shoulders. When I finally meet his gaze, his eyes are a cold, steel grey, fixed and unblinking beneath a heavy brow.

The symbols seemed to have extended. In Arerat, the tattoo was a butterfly in my palm and claw prints under it, down to below my wrist. But right now, it was extended down to the back of my elbow, just below my upper arm. The last pair of claw prints that lay in-between the upper arm and the lower arm began to glow warmly. I could feel a soul connection with it. It's the exact feeling I got when Little Wolfy gave me its blood essence from it's glabella to join the contract of beast and beast tamer. It was as if I just...

When the midwife lifted her, the room fell into a terrified hush. The girl was small, but it was not her size that stopped the hearts of those in the room. It was her skin. On her chest, directly over her heart, and across the span of her tiny back, symbols were etched into her flesh. They were not birthmarks; they were brands, glowing with a faint, amber luminescence that pulsed in time with the lightning outside. On her chest, the sign of the crab—♋. Across her back, two interlinked circles—⚯.

“I’m worshipping. There’s a difference.” Kai’s breath hitched as Damien’s thumb dragged over the phoenix’s head, right above his left nipple. The tattoo was intricate—flames curling in shades of red, orange, and deep black ink that seemed to flicker in the low light. It stretched from just below his collarbones down to the bottom of his ribs, wings wrapping around his sides. Geometric patterns from his full sleeves connected to it, making the entire piece feel alive on his lean-muscled swimmer’s build.

Esmeray held her forearm up, examining the intricate tattoo that adorned her skin. The tattoo depicted a majestic wolf, its eyes fierce and determined, surrounded by swirling patterns that seemed to dance with a life of their own. The lines were bold and precise, giving the impression of strength and resilience. “This tattoo is so unique,” Esmeray remarked, tracing her fingers over the contours of the design. “I’ve always felt a connection to it, but I never knew why.”

My focus glued to this stranger and my heart beating through my chest with the sensation I’m being chased, stalked, or hunted. He's exactly as the visions showed. Perfect as a man, with good looks, and sculpted physique, a presence that screams dominant alpha male. He’s muscular and tall, covered in black Aztec tattoos which are there for all to see as he once again turns towards us. The large blazing sun sign of the hunter on his left peck, right where I hoped it wouldn’t be and it seals his fate. The symbol has not changed in hundreds of years, and even though this is a tattoo and not burned, carved cruelly on the skin of the hunter, it’s still exactly as it’s always been.

The four types of tattoos were the Alpha tattoo, the Beta tattoo, the Zeta tattoo, and the member tattoo. My tattoo had seven moons at the top of my back with two versions of the Helm of Awe on each shoulder blade. In the middle of my back was Yggdrasil, the tree of life with a wolf head coming out of the roots. Finally, below the wolf and running down my spine was my name in Old Norse. In the middle of Yggdrasil’s branches, the Alpha sign of our pack was cleverly blended in.