Panther Claw Marks Novels & Stories

Then she turned the baby over, supporting the head carefully, to clean her back. And I saw it. There, on the baby's left bottom cheek—a birthmark. Dark against the pale newborn skin. Shaped like claw marks. Three parallel lines, slightly curved, as if something with talons had raked across the flesh and left its mark permanently embedded. My stomach dropped. I knew that mark. I'd seen it a thousand times. Mother has that mark.

“Fuck yes: harder: ruin me in public:” He did. Split his cock again: one in my pussy, one forcing into my ass alongside the tail, triple penetration that should have torn me apart but only made me come screaming. His mouth claimed mine, tongue forking deep down my throat while claws marked my hips. He flooded me with heat: endless, thick ropes that overflowed, dripping down my thighs in rivers. Marked me inside and out. When he pulled out, he traced a claw over my lower belly. A small, black pomegranate sigil bloomed under the skin: invisible to humans, but I felt it burn and pulse with every heartbeat.

The panther wasn’t the only bones Leila had created last night. She came upon the remains of a deer her wolf had ripped apart. She could see the stained trail of its entrails and blood from where she had drug it across the marshlands. She bent closer to examine the scratches her claws had gorged across its ribs. Deep gouges deep through the bone. Leila snapped a photo of the pattern of her claw marks, and measured the space between them with a ruler app on her cellphone. She would need it for comparison after she examined the body tonight.

He turns this time, with quakes and cringes, as he removes his head phone to a deafening piercing screech from the dark. Under the bright moonlight, he took a furtive glance at his wrist which was now aching badly and discovered claw marks on it, and blood dripping profusely. He knew what ever it was that did this, was no human. Only a monster could claw his hands so fast, with the speed of the wind.

When things got intense with Clay getting killed and his psychopath telling Venita the truth, I knew I had to get myself off that floor immediately. Finally, I was able to move one finger and then the next and next, until my entire hand had sensation in it. I dragged it closer to my thigh. Through clenched teeth, I put out my claws, digging them deep into my thigh. At first, I felt nothing. But, twisting and turning, slowly, I felt the pain and in a few seconds, it ricocheted throughout my whole body leading me to howl so loudly. It was a way of letting out all the pent-up energy and also sending out messages to anyone who could hear me to come. But for sure, before they arrive, I'm killing

I stare at it, slow heat spreading through my chest. A quiet chuckle slips out before I can stop it. Not because it is funny. Because it is impressive. This was not panic. This was not self-defense. Whoever did this did not hesitate or hold back. The strikes were brutal, excessive, almost personal. I step farther into the clearing, eyes scanning every detail, every mark left behind. Claw marks gouged deep into wood. Footprints overlapping in frantic patterns. The scent of one dominant presence woven through it all. Not rogue.

The window was deeply recessed in the thick stone wall, the light inside too dim and blurred to reveal if anyone was even there. But on the castle wall directly below that window, the high-definition lens caught something. A deep, fresh, dark gouge. The claw marks raked straight down from top to bottom, a clear, five-fingered trail of raw fury. It was a blood-seal, carved into the iron-hard basalt by a human hand driven by sheer, hopeless rage. I stared at that claw mark for three full seconds. --- Then, my face utterly blank, I shut off the communicator. With a flick of my wrist, I yanked the scalpel from the wood, slid it back into my boot sheath, and turned sharply for the closed door. I

he roared, as he thrust into her, riding her with the hunger of his beast. Adira's cry of pleasure tore from her lips, and it was music to his ears, to the panther within him, driving him to thrust harder, pound into her with an animalistic hunger. He clawed her ass, his nails leaving bloodlines on her flesh as his panther's claws darted out, puncturing her as he fucked her. She screamed, but begged for more. He kept driving into her, leaning down until he could place a hand on each side of her, his mouth so close to her shoulder it drove him crazy. The scent of her filled his nostrils, urging his panther to bite her, mark her, and claim her as his, as theirs. He felt his teeth shift into fa

One of the panthers screams. I see three of them rush towards me. While the vines manage to stop two of them, one of them manages to get through. His claws extended, he slashes against my neck, aiming for the most vulnerable part. Even as I try to defend myself, the already seeping blood has weakened me considerably. I feel his claws slash through neck, and a gurgling sound echoes in my ears as my vision blurs. I see the vines suddenly fall to the ground, and I, too, slump down weakly.

He glares at me and I soon open my mouth to give him a lie, but that's when my eyes catch the crest emblazoned into the huge iron gates we're driving towards. The deep gashes that are claw marks inspire fear in me, the same way I heard they have always inspired fear in anyone who sees them. Deep gashes in a slab of pure iron. The only pack known for such destructive power is..... The Ironclaw pack. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. "I asked a question, Scar..." "Is this the Ironclaw pack?" I look at the huge man and he's looking at me strangely. I must have sounded panicked, but that panic only rises when he nods.