Crown Chakra Tattoo Novels & Stories

I beg around his smooth lips. He chuckles and pulls me to a full-length mirror. We both stare at my beautiful mark. The crock of my neck has a tattoo of a beautiful crown. Underneath the crown is a capital R. Emmett's mark is very similar. His crown is more masculine, but he also has a capital R. A perfect symbol for our future positions. Emmett runs his fingers over my mark, and I moan. "You are so sexy, Love. Do you realize what you are doing to me," he whispers as he lowers his mouth to my hot skin.

The True Crown: “You passed. Not by conquering the storm. By teaching it how to love. You are not the thunder that refuses to die. You are the thunder that chooses to live. For them. With them. Always.” The rain stops. We’re standing on solid stormglass again. The ziggurat is gone. We’re back on the steps of the drowned capital, air bubble intact, submarine waiting. On each of our left wrists: a new mark (violet lightning shaped like a crown, ringed by coyote tracks, sunbursts, dragon wings, fox tails, book pages, and tiny black holes). Permanent. Shared. The city around us is no longer drowned.

My eyes drifted to the wall clock. ‘6:30?’ I gasped. ‘PM?’ ‘Did we sleep for that long?’ I tried to rush out of bed, but my body felt numb. Damon was completely looming over me. A smile tugged at my lips. I knew what we felt for each other couldn't be termed ‘love’, but I felt an inner joy. I slightly nudged him aside so I could get up, but what I saw on his body made me widen my eyes. Tatoo? Damon has a tattoo at the upper part of his right arm? It was an image of a crown with ‘Her King’ etched beneath it.

Why would I have a memory that didn't include sight or smell? I’m having these thoughts while lying nude on a hard bench as the queen massages Imperial Imperial oil, the same oil Ona used to heal my wounds, into my skin. It is a tradition in royal weddings that we are anointed with this oil, preparing us for joining in body and soul. Primus will be going through a similar ritual with his siblings. From here we will bake in the early morning sun, allowing its light to kiss us from head to toe, after which they will paint our bodies with runes for health, prosperity, and fertility just before they mark us with our marriage tattoos. Primus and I decided on a simple, traditional symbol, a mount

He stood a few feet away in his ceremonial robes—black with silver trimming, a deep V at the chest, his mark pulsing faintly against his skin. He stepped forward, and in his hands was the crown of the Luna. A circlet of fine blackstone and crystal, woven with vines carved in silver. The symbol of shared power. Of union. Of forever. Talon said nothing, but the way he looked at me told every truth he’d never spoken. His hands were steady as he placed the crown gently on my head, his fingers brushing against my temple like he couldn’t help but linger. My chest fluttered. I didn’t look away. I couldn’t. Not when his eyes held me there like that, like I was everything he’d waited his whole life t

When she finally stepped out, droplets sliding down her thighs, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her cheeks were still flushed, her lips slightly swollen from biting them too hard. Her eyes were glassy with something unspoken. And when she turned, she saw it again — the mark on her left hip. A tattoo - like crest. Etched into her skin like a brand. It shimmered faintly in the light, elegant yet powerful. A circular sigil framed by olive leaves and ancient runes, with an owl perched atop a spear pointed downward, its wings wrapped protectively around the circle.

I look up at Raquel and shiver, not understanding how a tattoo could be so powerful. The vision of the wings fades away. I look back to the sword and notice there more. Beneath the blade, there are three drops of velvet-red blood. The start of small, each drop becomes larger than the next. “What is all of this?” I say in awe. “This is not just a tattoo, is it?” I realize as I stare at a rustic gold chalice. “No, Katrina. I am afraid it's not.” “Why is the cup appear as if they never finished the design?”

Marcus said. I lifted my head and looked at the bike again through tears. Now that I could see past the shock, I noticed the rest. The new paint was deep black with a subtle shimmer that only showed when the light hit it just right. Along the side of the tank, worked into the design so delicately I almost missed it, was a dagger. Behind it, a crown. Around both, the fine lines of a compass, woven together in the exact shape of our tattoo. My hand pressed against my chest.

Alarich lowers his head in submission "I speak to you not only as your humble servant, but as a friend. If you don't perform your duty, despite you being above the law. Our kingdom will be emboldened and a potential unnecessary rebellion could be on our hands" My mark. To humans it looks like a tattoo all over my left side. It starts from my bite scar, above my left breast. Black vines and flowers trail from it, down my side and wrapping around my leg to my foot. Then it trails up my chest, along the side of my neck, swirling and wrapping down my arm and ending at the tip of my ring finger.

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.