Raven Wings Spread Tattoo Novels & Stories

Hayden grinned at me, like it was all effortless. “Let’s get out of here,” he smiled. 🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸 By the time we walked into the tattoo parlor, my hands were shaking. The artist nodded at Hayden, clearly aware of who he was, and then glanced at me. “You two getting matching tats?” I nodded, heart racing. “Yeah, we are.” “You have anything in mind,” he asked. I reached for Hayden’s wrist and traced a line. “Half a raven. The wings. He gets one, I get the other. When we’re together… it’s complete.”

I ask while kneeling down in front of her feeling how uneasy she feels hearing her parents yelling for her. I can’t help blushing a little when I stare into her obsidian eyes noticing her looking me over trying to understand what she is feeling. “I don’t know,” she whimpers at Rebecca screaming for her so I nod and scoop her up into my arms. “It’s ok come on,” I reassure while carrying her towards the barn door to find her identical twin opening the door. They are very much the same except, their hair, eyes, and abilities. Raven’s hair and eyes are pitch black and her aura was that of an extraordinarily powerful Lycan Alpha.

She held on to Ivan’s scarf and shut her eyes. Through his eyes she could make out two big burly men at the table. They were on each side of Ivan. They each had half filled cups of what was probably rum. They were playing cards. She was drawn out of her reverie by the calls of what was unmistakably ravens, she looked up at the sky. They were a few of them hovering above her head.

Immediately, I jerked my eyes upward. Too late. Those butt cheeks can’t leave my head, not for a very long time. I hated that my face was getting hot. Then I noticed the tattoos. A black raven stretched across his back, its wings half-spread on the back of his shoulders as though caught between flight and stillness. On his right shoulder was a black serpent curled over his left pec, glaring at the raven with so much intensity while the raven looked lonely and, worse, sad. More ink trailed across his back. Script. Symbols. Lines disappearing beneath fabric.

Perhaps the recent events were showing her a rather depressing answer. She just smiled down at the eagle tattoo that she had on her right wrist. It had the savanna skyline wrapped around like the band, while the eagle head was in the center. The lion tattoo on Gryphon’s arm did survive long enough for it to show properly, and she hoped for it to stay as long as it would. Ten years more… and perhaps, along with their wedding vows, they could retouch their wedding tattoos.

That was when I noticed the tattoos. His back was adorned with an intricate design of large black wings, streaked with delicate gold traces that shimmered faintly in the low light. The wings spanned across his shoulders and down his back, a masterpiece that was both beautiful and intimidating. They exuded a silent warning, a "do not mess with me" aura that fit him perfectly. Yet, despite their commanding presence, I felt no fear. This was Alessandro. The man who had carried me, who had stood by me even when I pushed him away. He wasn’t a threat—he was my protector.

"A tattoo." It had stretched wide across his shoulder blades, bold and intricate, wings unfolding in dark symmetry. Black feathers etched into flesh, not soft or angelic, but sharp, deliberate, every line precise. And from the center, running down the length of his spine, a blade—sleek, merciless—anchored the wings together, as if he were bound to it, or perhaps born from it.—they all existed first in memory, then in paint. And yet, every line my brush drew was precise, intimate, as though I had touched his skin in another life, known the weight of it, the pull of it. I didn’t pause. I couldn’t. Each stroke seemed necessary, demanded, as if the brush itself were feeding on my need to see it

The neckline dipped just enough to leave my tattoo uncovered. The raven stretched along my throat, wings curved around the mark beneath it, the ink dark against my skin. Beautiful, if you didn’t know what it was hiding. The mark had been restless since morning. A low, steady warmth beneath my skin that kept pulling at my awareness no matter how firmly I shoved it aside. Every few minutes it flared again, hot and insistent. “Leave me alone,” I murmured. But It only burned hotter. I narrowed my eyes at my own reflection.

I couldn’t focus on what he was saying at all, my attention completely stolen by his bare chest. I couldn’t help but notice the armband tattoo on his left arm. The word “Moretti” was inked in a beautiful Old English font, with detailed lines making it look even cooler. His tattoos just added to that tough, masculine vibe he had going on. Then I saw the tattoo on his back. A raven, placed right in the middle of his back, near his shoulders and neck. It was so well done, I couldn’t stop staring at it, totally impressed.

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.