Traditional Raven Tattoo Flash Novels & Stories

Raven nodded, though her heartbeat was too fast to steady herself. The circle closed. Elders began to chant in the old tongue, their voices weaving with the crackle of fire and the rush of wind until the air itself seemed to thrum. Symbols carved into the earth beneath Raven’s feet lit up, forming concentric rings that pulsed with silvery light. The ritual had begun. She gasped as her chest burned but the energy caught her body like invisible hands yanking her soul forward, dragging her into the truth of what she carried.

Donovan, Kesha, Chloe, Casen, and Severn wind garlands of white roses and poppies around the pyre—to tether his spirit until his journey is done. Corinda, Mike, and Seth anoint him with the scents of rose, willow, and lily—so the goddess will know him as her own. Do these rites work? Who knows. But tonight, they give us something sacred: comfort. And we’ll take every scrap of it we can. When the rituals are complete, Meredith calls, “Bella. Jamal. Children. Come say your goodbyes.” Bella sobs, collapsing against me. I steady her and help her stand. We walk to the pyre together.

"A bad day is one thing, acting like you don't give a shit about Raven and fucking a random woman isn't a bad day, that's you spiralling." "Enough, we will sort Ashton out after." I turn and look at Grayson. "When Raven was fifteen, things started happening in her life. She had a stalker, he would send her pictures of her, and leave her gifts and stuff. At seventeen, Raven was at her friend's party, it was a masked party, and her friend was killed." I look at him shocked, but confused why that has anything to do with Raven?

Why this feeling? The tattoos were the second thing. Riven didn't have them when I left so he must have gotten them not quite long after. The dark ink spread across his chest and down to his left arm, trailing over his shoulder and disappearing around his ribcage. It wasn't decorative. Nothing about Riven was decorative but it carried meanings. Beautiful meanings...they were very beautiful... 'Stop it!' I dragged my eyes away and fixed them somewhere neutral for a few seconds so I could relax my brain a little before my eyes strolled over to them again.

I cock an eyebrow, only for him to point at the tattoo on my chest. Every male wolf gets branded with their house sigil on their thirteenth birthday. It’s not just a rite of passage. It can turn from red to black, when we first touch our fated partners. Female wolves get theirs on the wrist on their eighteenth birthday, to make sure they remain pure. My tattoo is a raven above crossed swords, the sigil of the Medeiros House. And right now, it’s burning black, like a burst of smoke on my skin.

Raven came down dressed to leave. She had changed out of her uniform. She wore simple jeans and a soft top. Her hair was brushed. Her bag hung from one shoulder. She looked… pretty.....too pretty for a study session. Ragnar growled at once. She dressed up for him. For study, I said flatly. You do not believe that. I ignored him. Raven slowed when she saw us both there. “Oh.” My father smiled warmly. “Raven. Are you going somewhere?” She shifted the strap of her bag. “Yes. I’m going to a friend’s house to study.”

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.

"That is what friends do." We drank tea and the room was warm and the mess was still there but it felt less heavy. "What song are we singing?" Raven asked. "What song?" "For the arrangement. We need a song. It is tradition." "Since when?" "Since now." I looked at her and her dark eyes were bright. "Fine," I said. "You pick." Raven thought for a moment and her face lit up. "The one about the wolf and the moon," she said. "That is not a real song."

Knight laughed as he bent down and pressed his lips on Raven's clavicle, licking before he sucked on his bite mark slightly, "Special treat of the mate's mark." "What?!" Raven pushed Knight away and looked down, but he couldn't see his own clavicle. Knight laughed as he pulled himself out of Raven, letting Raven rush to the bathroom as he followed in a leisurely way. Raven rose his chin in front of the mirror, and in the piece of glass, he could see a scarlet red mark like a blood crescent penetrating his collarbone. "Are you fucking crazy?!" Raven grabbed Knight by his collar, panting in shock.

After the argument in the car, Raven was surprised to receive a text message with an address and time for the gig. He debated whether to go as he changed shirts three times in front of his bathroom mirror, finally settling on a plain black t-shirt and jeans. He shrugged on his leather biker’s jacket and ran a comb through his hair. “Shit,” he told himself in the mirror as he fidgeted with his hair and ran his nails through the stubble on his cheeks contemplating the value of shaving. “You are like a nervous virgin dressing for her prom date.”