Simple Owl Tattoo Novels & Stories

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.

Xavier cursed. "Just like us, they shared the same symbol to their family. Their emblem is a certain wildflower, Achillea millefolium, or Yarrow. The tattoos are printed against the skin on their nape. It's too small to be even noticed," Zeus explained. Xavier's brows furrowed as he looked closely into the picture. "A month ago in L.A when I was on my honeymoon, I received this strange message," he admitted. "What did it say?"

The disappearing tattoo from his hand disheartened Owen. He licked his lips as he inhaled deeply before opening his mouth and blowing out a long sigh. With his gloomy eyes gaping at his empty backhand with no tattoo in it, Owen said, worried, "For one moment, I thought the abilities of Lycans are strong enough to beat the murder attempts of this Forest but I was wrong!" Making his eyes quit gaping at the tattoo as it wasn't going to come back, Owen glanced at the path ahead. Gripping the reins time and again, he drove the cart with a crestfallen face that bloomed disappointment and not to forget a bit of frustration too.

“Ren, Ares, spillway. Olive, you’re with me.” Olive swallows, then nods. Her new mint-and-key tattoo peeks from her collar like a secret she finally decided to wear where the world can see it, and she looks a little scared but a lot determined to do this. A week ago, that look on her would’ve been all trembling apology but today it’s trembling and will. Growth is a kind of bruise you’re proud of. We move. The web hums in nonsense intervals, pretty if you don’t listen, a headache if you do. Nova flattens her ears.

Maybe the gods think I look pretty this way. A gasp escaped me as I turned my neck to get a better view. My fingertips brushed against a beautifully intricate design that adorned my skin. It was a crescent moon, its delicate details awash in an array of enchanting blue shades. Stars, each unique, encircled the moon like constellations painted by a celestial artist. At the edge of the crescent, a pitch-black wolf stood, head thrown back as it howled at the moon. My mate’s initials are written below the mark.

--- #### The Moon-Oath Circle Midnight bells tolled as Ophelia padded to the courtyard balcony. Below, unsleeping sentries rousted muttering supporters from torchlit alcoves. Thunderheads crowded the moon, but one silver beam speared down on the freshly chiseled stone circle—the site Dylan had ordered crews to carve for moon-oaths. She traced the pattern with her eyes: concentric rings, outer runes marking honesty, inner ring etched with the pack’s emblem—a wolf guarding a single star.

I saw black and white roses and some funny ones, like one of Baby Yoda and a bandaite tattoo. When he turned around I realized he had a tattoo of his dogs on the top of his shoulders. “Are you checking me out?” He asked as he smirked. “Yes, I am, handsome” I replied. “Mom!” Oliver shouted embarrassed. Shit, I didn’t realize he could hear us. “Sorry Oliver. But I was just looking at his tattoo’s. They’re really cool.”

The towel tied around his waist and his hair dripping wet was making her center crave for his touch. “Are you just going to stand there and stare all day?” He questioned in a miffed tone and she cleared her throat. “Leah will be coming in late today. I was supposed to inform you yesterday, but you weren't in the right state of mind.” Olivia said, her eyes focused on his bare back. She sighted the tattoo and remembered running her hand on it. It was a drawing of a cross and an Italian writing around it. What does it even mean, huh?

"And…I got something off him. During the fight.” She held up her phone. Liora crossed the room and took it. A photograph. Blurred at the edges, bad lighting — taken fast, maybe mid-struggle — but clear enough. The inside of a wrist. A tattoo. Intricate. A wolf's head in profile, geometric, something woven behind it that looked like a crescent or a gate or both at once. Lettering beneath that she couldn't quite read. Something about it pulled at her. Like a word she almost knew.

Commanding. My lungs finally obeyed. Air rushed out of my mouth as I inhaled sharply. But I still could not open my eyes. Not yet. His presence was overwhelming. “What tattoo do you have here?” His voice came again. Soft. Curious. His thumb traced the spot just beneath my breast. My eyes flew open. Oh. He was talking about my tattoo. Three small birds. And a feather beneath them. A symbol of freedom I had gotten in college. His thumb continued to brush over the design slowly.