Black Moon Lilith Tattoo Studio Novels & Stories

There might be shame in daydreaming and wishing that it was me he looked at, but no one has to know that. And so what if it makes me look pathetic, it's no one's business but my own. Besides, Luca Valentine looks way too hot in his blue t-shirt. A lot hotter than the green one he wore yesterday. It would be a shame for him not to be looked at. "You're staring," Lilith hisses, snapping her fingers in my face. Her red painted fingernails catches my attention, and I blink. "Stop it. You're getting creepy." Lilith tosses her equally vibrant red hair over her shoulder, a curly strand catching on her black cat shaped earring. She drops her hand and grabs her travel mug, taking a big sip of the con

She could never have imagined that the brushes in front of her had been intended for guests. When the fog faded from the mirror, she opened her eyes and swore at her reflection. She could see the red and purple marks of the hickeys he had given her on her chest and neck. Then she put a trembling hand at the base of her neck. A kind of black tattoo had taken shape there. Three parts stood out. At the top stands the head of a black wolf baring its fangs. Then, behind the head of the animal, a crescent moon was drawn. And finally, just under the wolf's mouth, two elegantly intertwined letters: M.B.

I take the pen, sign on line twenty, and hand it to Tessa. While we sign, Lilith stamps the hands of the guys. She turns to me, grabs my wrist, presses the stamp into my skin, then does the same for Tessa. Clipboard tucked under her arm, she lifts her hand and reaches for my chest. Her fingers graze my left nípple through the thin shirt. “If you’re into girls, I like you,” she says, eyes on mine, voice low. She turns to the men. “The stamp gets you upstairs. Everyone up there has agreed to the rules. You’ll find bins where you can drop your clothes. They’re labeled. Have fun.” And then she walks off to the next group.

a marking on the underside of his forearm stares back at us. I drop it carelessly before heading over to the gothic cult girl. The same mark is on her too. The last one is the dead girl. Carefully grabbing her hand so as to not touch her slit wrist, I show them the same marking. “They all have it. I’m very aware of where this stamp came from. How about you two?” There’s a heavy exhale of understanding that is shared between them. “Black Lagoon.” All three of us mutter at the same time.

The bell above the tattoo shop door jingled as I pushed it open, my heart hammering against my ribs. I’d been thinking about this for months — finally getting ink on my breasts, something delicate and feminine to reclaim my body after a shitty breakup. The shop was called Ink & Skin, tucked into a quiet corner of the city with blacked-out windows and neon signs that hummed faintly. It was late afternoon, and the place was empty except for the artist behind the counter.

For hours, they had drowned themselves in silence, each blaming the other but too proud to voice it. It was then that Lilith entered. Her presence was like poison seeping into an open wound — intoxicating, sharp, and venomous. Dressed in black silk, her hair cascading like a shadow around her face, she stood in the glow of the flickering torches, eyes burning with an almost cruel satisfaction. “Well,” she said softly, her voice slicing the silence. “So this is what’s left of the great Lycans? Three broken kings licking their wounds?” The triplets looked up, their jaws tightening, but they did not answer.

I walked through its doors, down a seemingly endless aisle lined with the royal advisors, the guard—including Jordan—and the royal family, who stood closest to the reverend at the steps. I stopped at the base of the steps while the reverend recited ancient words. Then I knelt as he descended to me, continuing the incantation until the needle touched my skin. It was just like any other tattoo—the sting of a needle striking again and again into the flesh of my neck. I already knew what it would be: I had seen the crest many times before. A black shield edged in crimson, crowned with silver and obsidian points shaped like crescents. At its heart, a silver moon cradled a black wolf with its head

“That’s why the moon chose you. Not because you’re strong, but because you always put Lilith before yourself.” Lilith’s cheeks flushed at those words. As midnight approached, they walked toward a spot behind the mansion. There stood an ancient tree that had witnessed so many secrets over the centuries. Beneath the roots of that old tree, Ingrid drew a ritual circle using white chalk mixed with herbal ash. She also made sure to light four candles at each corner. In the center of the circle was a crescent moon symbol identical to the pendant hanging around Lilith’s neck. Selene and Veronic stood guard outside the circle. Not far from there, Noah stood in the shadows of the trees. Not to interf

“Mortyss stopped because a human asked him to. Can you believe that?” I believed it. Because it was exactly the kind of irony the universe reserved for the proud. “Where?” I asked, taking a sip of my whiskey. “Where is he?” “I don’t know exactly. But the club is called Lilith’s Kiss. It’s in Manhattan, near the East Village.” Lilith’s Kiss. The name was a joke in extremely bad taste. A strip club named after the mother of the Lilim. The owner was probably an ignorant human who thought the name sounded “exotic.” Little did he know he was honoring the most dangerous creature who had ever existed.

Candles flicker with black flames. Lilith’s body seems even more overwhelming here. Deep red skin glowing, heavy breasts with dark, stiff nipples, wide hips, thick powerful thighs, and that long tail swaying behind her like it has a mind of its own. Her black horns curve back elegantly, and those massive wings stretch wide before folding slightly. She looks like every dirty fantasy I’ve ever tried to kill with prayer. She steps closer and runs those long black nails across my jaw. “You’re going to worship me properly now,” she says softly.