Simple Owl Tattoo Novels & Stories

He preferred it that way. Beta Remus entered the hall and sniffed appreciatively. His black eagle tattoo peeked out from the collar of his shirt. In a pinch, he could release the inky bird and it would take flight, providing reconnaissance from above. Each pack member's tattoo, received upon turning sixteen, transformed into a unique animal providing a unique gift. Only one wolf could claim each creature.

“Oh my Goddess, yes, we so should.” Otto wanted to run his hand down his face, as his friends would. He doubted that he would be the last wolf to have wondered what had happened to Nora since no one had heard from her. He had a tattoo on his right shoulder, a Moon Lotus flower. He had it done two years after he couldn’t find her; he had noticed she used to draw them in the margin of her notebooks. He asked her once what it was for she told him it was a pack tradtion it was to allow the Goddess to see that these who marked their work with is to see that they had learned her teachings. He had it done to show the Goddess he had learned from his mistakes and the pain that he had caused. Instead,

“I’m here for a tattoo.” He leaned back, arms folding across his broad chest. The motion made the fabric of his shirt strain. “You? A tattoo?” He laughed, low and cruel. “Let me guess. Tiny heart on your wrist? Or maybe a quote about ‘strength’ in some flowery script so everyone knows how deep you are.” I pulled out my phone and showed him the design. “Lower back. Crescent moon with vines. I have the reference.”

My breath hitched as I recognized the intricate design—a mate tattoo. My mind reeled, questions crashing into each other like waves in a storm. How? When? Who? I couldn’t tear my gaze away from it. It didn’t make sense. A mate tattoo was scared, a bond forged by fate itself. It appeared only when the Moon Goddess seemed two souls meant for one another. But Olivia? My grip on her tightened as my thoughts spiraled. Was it possible she’d gotten it done at some tattoo shop, oblivious to the meaning? No, that couldn’t be it. The lines were too precise, too ethereal. This was no human creation.

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.

“The blood of this place is the Blood of Osoro, the very same blood that runs within you. This place is a part of you just like your hand, leg, or any body part you can think of. You did not choose it, it chose you.” She felt like that now, like the whole of this place was a part of her. Tara stopped at the tall steps leading to the hall. She looked at the two mammoth carvings of a bird standing at both sides of the entrance; an owl and a hawk. The Owl was the signature bird of Osoro, while the Hawk signified the witches.

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.