Black Cat Claws Novels & Stories

My heart thumped into my mouth, not sure what I was going to witness, I took a deep breath and nodded in answer. He took a step back and raised his hands at his sides, palm up. To my utter disbelief, the tips of his fingers split open, and long, black claws sprang out of them. They were sharp, glinting in the moonlight. That, very well, explained the claw marks on my pillow.

John by the Moon Goddess herself—a gift that set them apart in both strength and reputation. Their distinguishing feature lay in their wolf claws, a striking midnight blue hue that held a formidable power. Any wolf wounded by the claws of a Nightclaw could not rely on their innate wolf healing to quicken the recovery process. This ability struck fear into the hearts of both rival packs and rogue wolves alike, cementing Nightclaw’s status as one of the most powerful packs in the region.

Zeta Eli sat on his knees and, with his hand, began measuring the claws that appeared to be a werecat in the dirt. The claws were long and curved like knives, when they moved, they could cut into the dirt with the ease of slicing through butter. His skin was black in color, which easily emerged in the darkness of night, so Zeta Eli could only see his eyes. They were so large that it seemed as if they were looking into his soul. His eyes were dark yellow, like the sun, and there were white dots all around his pupil.

Click. The flash illuminated the grotesque scene, capturing every detail—the twisted limbs, the unnatural angle of the body, the dark, spreading blood. She adjusted her lens, focusing on the claw marks. There was something almost hypnotic about how they seemed to grow from the earth itself as if they had always been there. Click.

The night offered no answer. Slowly, I pulled my shirt over my head and let it fall onto the grass. My boots followed. Then the rest of my clothes. The familiar pull of the shift coiled beneath my skin, stronger than it had been in months. I didn't resist it. There was no pain or struggle. Power surged through every muscle, every bone, every nerve, until the transformation swept over me like a tide I could no longer hold back. My paws struck the earth as I stood there, larger than before, my silver-black coat gleaming beneath the moonlight.

His eyes were swimming with unshed tears. I shook my head, wondering how best to approach his mental health, which was obviously deteriorating. “Dad–” “Watch.” He put his hand on top of mine, and his fingernails were no longer there. In their place were long, thick, black claws. He wiggled his long bony fingers, and the claws gently scraped my skin. I opened and closed my mouth, too frightened to speak. I’d all but stopped breathing. It was even more alarming when I watched his claws retract. The smooth, short-cut nails that were always slightly dirty from his work were now reaching for his coffee cup.

He releases a frustrated breath “What about the texture? And the color, how does it feel against your skin, remember when you fought Tiana, it dug into your skin, soaked with your blood. Over your mortal hands.” I remember the weight, they felt sensitive but strong, like I could cut through metal if I wanted to. “Open your eyes” his voice comes, low. I open slowly and almost yelped back at the sight of my hands. Short black claws lengthen over my fingers but they looked deadly sharp. Zayne wraps one hand around my wrist bringing it closer to him, he presses his thumb to the tip of one claw, and a drop of blood immediately beads. “What are you doing?” I shriek as I pull my finger away.

Wolfs heal from most things even wolfbane, but not silver or if a part of the body is removed. “Any other of your claws that are like this one?” I ask and she shakes her head tears running over her face and blood coming from her finger. “Any other claws Danielle?” I ask in my king’s voice, knowing she can’t lie if I do. She tries to shake her head but her other hand is raised to me with a pointed claw already out. I snarl at her and remove it from her hand as well. Earning another painful scream.

Five long blade-sharp claws stabbed into his neck. Like a knocked-over opened bottle, blood rushed out of the wounds the claws made, flowing down his torso and soaking his robe. Groaning, choking, and retching sounds poured out of him. His breath was strained and labored, inhalation getting loud in his throat. One by one, he pulled the claws out, shivering. His veins and arteries started blackening, and his eyes turned into total darkness. Collaring his neck with both hands after pulling out the claws, he dropped to his knees and then fell on his stomach.

I curiously muttered back before I picked up one of the claws from Nathan's hand. "Werewolf claws." Out of curiosity, we dropped the flashlight on the wheel that got wrecked and were stunned and dumbfounded after seeing the claw marks that marked not just the wheel but the body part of the car. That was the reason those claws were also removed from the hands of whoever attacked us. I immediately shifted the colour of my eyes when I heard a rustling sound from the distance behind us. "Why? What is it?" Roger and Malia slid at the back to check what happened to the wheel.