Blood Claws Novels & Stories

They were not the thick claws of a werewolf, but the thin long claws of a siren… My skin seemed to have changed, a faint hue of silvery blue covering it. I lunged at him, digging my claws into his chest. He grabbed my wrist, but I refused to remove my hand from his chest, not caring as blood spilt down my hand and his body. He was looking at me as if it was the first time he had seen me.

Together, they launched a counterattack, their combined forces driving back the Wolfsbane and Silverbacks. Amidst the raging battle between the Silverbacks and Wolfsbane clans against the formidable Gaia clan, a group of stealthy observers watched from the shadows. These were members of the Crescent Claws, a werewolf clan known for their cunning and mastery of shapeshifting. As the battle intensified, a surge of immense power erupted from the depths of the forest, signaling the emergence of Kai, a half-powered werewolf wielding an aura of unparalleled strength.

Thank-" However, the girl didn't get to finish her words. Everyone got horrified at the scene before them. So was the brunette. Her eyes came out of her orbits in shock as her parted lips spurted blood. Clair's left hand had shifted into a wolf's claw, piercing through the jugular of the brunette. Everyone got up in their places. The brunette's lifeless body soon fell to the ground. Claire shifted her claw back to her hand and slightly licked the blood off from the participant's locket that she got from the brunette's neck.

I needed to play at that time. At this point, I extracted my claws and steadily launched an offense of my own. I charged straight at the man with my own eyes glowing a bright shade of blue. He saw me coming and attempted a blow to my face with a swipe of his claws. I easily ducked under his arm and hurried my own claws into the man's heart. He froze at once as my claws dived deep into his heart. His eyes went wild with shock, and he slowly coughed out blood from his mouth before dropping heavily to the ground.

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.

Those razor sharp claws digging into my flesh. But it's those large blue eyes that hold my attention. Stuck, paralyzed, I lay there as the animal lowers its mussel inches away from me. Hot breath assaults my face as it lets out an annoyed growl. It has me flinching, begging for my life, but there’s no way a wild animal can understand my cries. It’s to be expected when its teeth sink into my unpinned shoulder, crunching through my bones.

The spill of crimson across his face—like a mark running from his left eyebrow down to his jaw—was remarkably frightening, his eyes glowing a shade of scarlet as he growled with every exhale. His claws were evidently sharp, catching the beams from the chandelier, and behind him, Clawface, with his wolf out as well, dragged a presence into the room. Almost dead. And half breathing.

My men had slaughtered almost everyone; only one remained alive, one of Mark’s warriors who was trying to crawl toward the exit with a shattered leg. “Leave this one for me,” I ordered, standing up with a lethal calm. I felt the heat rise through my arms as my Lycan claws tore through my own skin to emerge. They were long, black, and sharp as scalpels. I stood over the man and, without hesitation, buried the claws of my right hand into his chest. The sound of the tissue tearing was satisfying. I lifted his body a few inches off the ground, holding him only with the strength of my fingers buried in his ribcage.

I pulled up the ripped fabric of my dress where the claws went through the cloth. I looked closely at my forearm. I searched for the three deep cuts that had bled so much just minutes ago and made a puddle on the floor. I found only a faint scar where Thorne’s claws had cut me. It wasn’t even a proper scar, just a thin white line on my skin that was almost gone already and disappearing fast. If I hadn’t seen the blood pour out and felt the sharp pain, I would not have believed it had happened to my body at all.

The beast hit the ground with a bone-crunching thud, twisting to snap at me. I didn’t flinch. Claws burst from my fingertips, sliding out like they’d always belonged there, and I drove them deep. Hot blood sprayed across my arms. The rogue let out a strangled snarl, convulsed once, and went still. Silence swallowed me for a beat. My breath tore in and out of my lungs, harsh and ragged. I stared at my hands—at the claws slick with crimson, the strength humming under my skin like a living thing.