Merlins Tattoo Novels & Stories

“Never going to happen.” Just as I’m about to turn away, Raquel grabs me by the upper arm. My shirt’s sleeve rides up an inch, exposing the bottom portion of my old tattoo. She frowns, a flicker of recognition flashing across her eyes. She doesn’t let me escape, moving so swiftly that I have no time to react. She pushes my sleeve up to expose the entire composition: a raven with red feathers and an arrow in its black beak. Her mouth falls open. “You’re a Red Raven.”

“The tattoo she’s drawing on your skin will connect you to a bird. You can always send it information.” He held his hand out, showing me the tattoo on his arm. “I have the same one as well. This means the bird is reserved for just you and me. once our use of it is over, the tattoo will naturally fade away” The woman stepped back as she finished. “If you wish to convene it, all you have to do is speak its name, it will answer.” Her voice was gentle, yet carried an air of worship. She turned to my father, eyes searching for confirmation. He gave a slow, solemn nod, the weight of unexpressed memories shadowing his expression. A strange cold ran down my spine, the solemnity of their words sinkin

The look instantly cools my irritation so I lean forward and place a light peck on his lips before pushing off from his chest and rising to my feet. Morgana immediately appears at my side, her firm touch grabbing hold of my right hand to inspect the new snake tattoo that adorns my hand, wrist and lower arm. The brilliant blue color of the tattoo no longer glows under the light of the candles all around us, but the color was still breathtaking to look at either way.

I admire the tattoo taking up most of his back, it's similar to Storms. It's a pair of evil snake eyes in red, with a green and yellow snake wrapped around the pistol facing the red eyes of the evil snake. The words The Satan Sniper’s Motorcycle Club are written under the pistol. But what has me at a standstill is the shading that's done around the entire picture, it's a light shading but unmistakable. It's wings, Angel wings. I don't say anything. I want to but I'm tongue tied. I scan his back and stop at the blue bruises around his sides.

I inwardly murmured to myself. Ethan had a tattoo on his back. Right across his shoulders were medium- sized horizontal wings. They looked a little Goth and almost Greco-Roman in their black inked starkness. I loved the quote underneath the wings. No more yielding but a dream. I saw it in the shower when he turned to get the soap.

Each man wore the mark. Different symbols etched into skin: a serpent coiled around a sword on the left forearm of one, twin wolves snarling beneath a bleeding moon on the wrist of another, a skeletal crown on the palm of a third, and a phoenix swallowing its own tail just above the elbow of the last. Each tattoo pulsed faintly, dark and ancient, remnants of an allegiance born of secrecy, ambition, and old blood.

A faint blush reddened up her cheeks at the sight of his tanned muscles. He looked slender in clothes, but so different without it. Cinderella's blush intensified. There was something seductive, and charming about his Muscles. Probably it was the tattoo sitting lazily on the right side that was too sexy. Cinderella recognized the wings tattoo vividly. She raised her head, and bit her lips. Mercury also had the same tattoo the same night they had slept together. Drunkenly she inched closer, and touched the tattoo on his chest. A so confused expression laid on the peck of her chewed lips.

He’s jittery. He tries to reach out for his cup of coffee, but then his big sleeve gets in the way and makes it spill all over the table. However, that’s not the worst thing that happened. His sleeve rolls back, revealing a very vivid tattoo—a tattoo that I have too. The phases of the moon. The insignia of Sangria Amori, the mark of Royals, known by everyone. Morgan glares at the tattoo. Then he slowly looks up at us. At me.

Gildeon followed his gaze and saw a strange sigil glowing faintly beneath the skin. But something else drew Gildeon’s attention. An owl tattoo on the other arm. The design was almost identical to Arah’s—stylized in the same way. It wasn’t a sigil, but real ink. When Gildeon activated his dragon vision, it shimmered faintly with blue light. Magical. And familiar. “Captain,” Eitan said, hesitant, “should we kill him?” Gildeon glanced at Yadira. Her beast form was locked in fury, but he shook his head.

My jerremy coiled out, wrapping around his butterfly tattoo again, when its purple wings nipped with magic. “Your ink,” I asked, “is that what’s controlling your nature?” “Do you like it? Such a clever tattoo with magic woven into it that hides my Curse, when appearing nothing more than the mark of the Alpha Empire, where the Purple King butterfly is our national emblem,” King spat out, flinching as I reached to touch the tattoo. I instantly pulled back. “I’m sorry, it’s just so…”