Black Cat Claws Novels & Stories

While my friend signed her papers, I pulled out my phone and ordered a taxi. When I looked up again, she was still busy writing something, and behind her stood a tall, broad-shouldered man. Darkness seemed to coil around him, and the air itself felt charged with danger. I narrowed my eyes, studying him—wide, muscular shoulders, black wavy hair. But his face—I couldn’t see it. He leaned slightly toward Maya, as if… smelling her. Odd, to say the least. Then his hands, clasped behind his back, began to change. My heart dropped to my heels when I saw black, sharp claws glinting where his fingers had been.

Right between the eyes. He dropped. The pup screamed. The valley went silent. “I said,” I repeated, chambering another round, “let. Them. Go.” Moros stopped smiling. “Kill her,” he said. Quiet. The Claws raised their guns. 47 guns. 47 pups. 1 of me. Kieran _moved_. Black blur. He hit the first line of Claws before they could fire. “NOW!” he roared. Blood Moon charged. And I ran. Not away. _Forward_.

I developed claws and cut the rogue next to me in the throat. He hit the floor and started to tremble till he ran out of breath. As soon as his breath left him, he stopped moving. "You never know who's going to be next," I said as I walked by them. I was still walking, my claws growing longer. I paused midway through the man and plunged my claws into his heart. I twisted it and dragged it out of his chest while he cried out for help. "Tada!" I remarked, pacing back and forth between them. "Who's next?"They all started to get scared, but they remained silent.

Once I reach it, I put one down and use two hands to grab the other and swing it up into the dumpster. I hear a glass bottle skid across the ground as if someone kicked it and turn around. I don’t see anything and neither does Terra as she comes forward. ‘Something is out there,’ says Terra. Something is definitely wrong. The street lights are out and I can feel something is watching me. I slowly make my way towards a car that is parked in the road as I shift my hand into my claw. The next thing I know a black cat races out from under the car, growling as it takes off.

Kage’s rumbling in his chest was beginning to get louder and his right hand was beginning to shift, claws starting to come out. Is this idiot seriously going to shift?!

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't look away, instead my gaze stayed fixed in front. I was almost physically stunned when I realized they don’t have a face. “Run…” I whispered. But not one of them dared to move. We were all petrified, frozen like statues, until the figure shrouded in black slowly raised its arm. I couldn't help but gulp in terror when I saw how ghastly and disturbing its hand looked; it was bloated and discolored, with nails that curled disgustingly outward. Its fingers were unnaturally long and slender, ending in claws sharp as daggers. The pallid skin was peeling away from the flesh underneath.

Every curve and line is perfect and accentuated by the glowing energy pulsating beneath my skin as if it were carved from marble by the Goddesses themselves. My right arm has a strange tattoo swirling up it with an odd energy fused into it. The black claws on my hands glisten in the brilliant light of the portal, their sharp points glinting like obsidian knives. As I concentrate, they slowly retract into my fingertips, disappearing from view. With another thought, they shoot out again like deadly daggers, ready for action.

Mark's own claw flashed in the setting sun, raking across Damien's shoulder with a sharp yelp of pain. "Fuck," Damien thought as he looked at the black liquid that oozed out of the injury instead of blood, and then through his wolf's eyes, he looked at Mark's claws to see it was blackened. No werewolf's claws were as dark as that. It must be another thing he had gotten from the witch. Mark started towards him again, and Damien dodged every one of his attacks, careful to not allow his claws to touch him again as he was still burning from the swipe he had given to him.

The first claw scraped against the stone like someone dragging metal over glass. He had moved fast, pushing Seraphina behind a broken pillar just as a black wolf lunged at them. The thing that followed wasn’t a wolf, not fully. It was wrong. Its bones jutted at odd angles, its eyes pitch black, and its skin moved like liquid shadow. It let out a screech that was disturbing to the ears. “These must have been born out of magic, or someone is just messing with what he doesn't understand,” he said, low and grim.