Claws Of Rage Novels & Stories

His claws came out. He tore into the rogue wolf with a rage I had never seen before. Blood splattered. The rogue howled in pain, but Killian didn’t stop. He ripped, growled, punched, clawed. The warrior beside him tried to speak, but Killian was gone. Lost in his fury. The rogue hit the ground, whimpering. But Killian wasn’t done. His claws slashed down again. The ground shook with each hit. Luca pulled me back, but I couldn’t move. My eyes were locked on the scene. The blood. The violence. The raw anger. I knew that kind of rage. I had seen it in Darius. I had felt it in every scar on my body.

But then she decided she had enough of the fight. As the man rushed towards her, blood dripping down his lips and his eyes full of rage, Claire stood there silently. Just as his fist flew towards her face, she caught his hand before twisting it at an unnatural angle, making him cry out with pain. Soon there was a snapping sound, and he howled pathetically, cradling his broken hand to his chest. But Claire was not done with him yet. He fell on the ground like a sack of potatoes, crying like a baby. She watched him with a cold rage burning in her eyes, remembering his taunts about killing her father and promising to send her to meet him.

The sky lights up with reds and golds and silvers, the new year announcing itself while my ex-husband tries to choke the life out of me. And with the first burst of light, something ignites inside me. Heat floods through my veins. Liquid fire spreading through my blood, burning away the drugs, burning away the weakness, burning away everything except this white-hot rage that I’ve been swallowing for eight fucking years. My hands move on their own. I watch, almost from outside myself, as claws extend from my fingertips. Long. Sharp. Impossible. Claws. I have claws. Omegas don’t have claws like this. Omegas can’t do what I’m about to do. But I don’t question it, don’t hesitate, don’t think.

"Claws?!" "Can we talk calmly?" Rage flexed his right hand, deflecting the strike. Dior was taken aback by the sight of his claws on his hands. "Who are you? No, what exactly are you?" Dior ignored Rage's inquiry and posed her own. Her sword was still pointed towards Rage's head. "Hmm, I think I'm the intruder you were looking for. You can conceive of me as a human, despite the fact that I have claws on my hand."

The Bloodletter hit me at a full run from the right, claws extended, going for my throat. I had nothing elegant left. My smoke form was depleted. My ribs made anything involving rotation a negotiation. My magic reserves were somewhere below the line I'd drawn as functional minimum. What I had was claws. And stubbornness. And twenty-six days of rage I hadn't had a clean outlet for. We hit the ground together. I let us—controlled it rather than fought it, used the momentum instead of absorbing it, came up on top with a knee in its chest and my claws at its throat and my entire weight keeping it from rolling.

Claws against claws. Roar against shriek. Fury against hunger. The ledge rocked violently under the weight of their struggle. Kiera pressed her palms to the stone, heart slamming so hard it felt like a bruise inside her ribs. Her vision blurred. The edges of the world wavered. She was losing time—slipping into terror— Stay awake. Stay awake. Stay— Ronan roared in pain. Her eyes snapped up. The creature had raked claws down his shoulder, tearing skin. Blood seeped through his shirt in a dark rush.

He removed his dangerous sharp fingers(claws) and his eyes darkened. "Time to end you", He charged at me and I removed my claws also and my eyes turned red. He struck me at the side of my chest with his claw and I got hold of his hand with one hand to avoid him dipping further and He also wasn't able to remove his hand because of my strength, before he could think of doing anything else. I aimed at his chest and my claw went deep into it and I twisted it and gave him a super kick that sent him crashing into a moving vehicle. I dashed toward him and I let my anger get the best of me. I took him up in one hand and he used his claws to make wonders on my hand but I maintained my balance and str

It was like watching a storm unleash its fury, a terrifying display of power. He stopped abruptly, letting out a guttural groan that vibrated through the stone floor. "Ughhhhhh!" he roared, the sound echoing down the hallway. His body was rigid, every line of him screaming with tension. His jaw was clenched so tight I thought his teeth might shatter. I could see the wildness in his eyes, the amber irises turning to a deep, predatory gold. The tips of his teeth were already lengthening, hinting at the fangs that were threatening to emerge. I knew his claws wouldn't be far behind if he didn't get a handle on his anger.

Rage had taken over, and I had no plans to stop. I barely felt the ground beneath me as I sprinted toward the rogue who’d kicked the child. He never even saw me coming. My claws tore through his back before he could react, a satisfying crunch of bone under my hands. He crumpled to the floor, and the child scrambled away, eyes wide with terror. The scent of blood filled my nostrils, but it wasn’t enough. I wanted more.

Heat radiated off him in waves, and the scent of his rage flooded the room—burning, acrid, making my eyes water. Veins bulged at his temples, pulsing visibly with each furious heartbeat. His hands curled into fists so tight his knuckles cracked audibly, and his nails—already elongating into claws—dug crescents into his palms hard enough to draw blood. Dark drops fell to the hardwood floor, staining it. His upper lip curled back into a full snarl, revealing canines that had extended well past human length, sharp and deadly. A low growl rumbled in his chest, vibrating through the floorboards beneath my feet, making the chandelier crystals chime softly above us.