Werewolf Hands Novels & Stories

A roar, from the inside of his throat, came out. "Howl." Sharp claws, overflowing with ferocity, grew from the inside of Adam's body to the outside. His entire body was filled with anger, his muscles becoming more and more solid. After a while, when he had completely transformed into a true werewolf, Adam's gaze could not help but glance at the hunters. “This… this… what happened in the end? Why can't our bullets penetrate his body?" A hunter was using a skeptical look, looking at the gun in his hand. But next, an extremely sharp claw charged from the air.

When he first saw it, it was all he could look at. “It shouldn’t.” He admits, “But It is definitely a little weird.” “Try having it be your hand,” I say with a chuckle. “They couldn’t… like… put it back on or something?” His question isn’t malicious or ill-willed, more of a curiosity. The werewolf's body is strange and amazing with its healing properties, but even healers struggle to keep up with what the body is capable of. “I know in the human world they would have sewn it back on if the cut was clean.” I shrug. “But it was chewed off and after the fight, as I’m sure you remember, my hand wasn’t the only appendage littering the ground.”

I mutter, I'm sick of everyone asking me for impossible things, "Give me your hands." The werewolf puts his hands on the table. His hands are very large, but surprisingly soft. I close my eyes as I clasp our hands together and try to get to that point where I can get a little more information, trying to connect with my inner self. "Don't talk," I command before he starts asking a million questions.

Broken bones were heard before he pulled out his hands. Black blood dripped from his hands and something meaty sat on his palm. "Here it is." I frowned at the gore sight. No witch can do that. He is certainly a vampire. Witches do not dig into people's hands. They collect it from wherever they stand. Ruthless in their own ways.

‘‘Don't tell me... You are...’’ The man couldn't go on his words anymore when realization dawned upon him. His eyes widened with great surprise as beads of sweat finally appeared on his face. ‘‘Oh? It seems like you've caught on quite easily. What do you think should I do to you?’’ I spoke with a cold smile. I used the power of Danica as I shifted my hand to that of a werewolf. Slowly, furs began appearing on my hand, sharp nails also began to sprout out, threatening to kill at any given moment.

He didn't flinch; he stood like nothing touched him, but my hands were burning. "Are you guys made of rocks or something?" I asked, trying to hide the tears. "You punched wrongly; that's why it hurt that bad." He held my hands, inspecting it. "But could I ever hurt a werewolf if I learn to punch well?" "With enough force, yes, not as bad as your hands would hurt, but still a win; your thumb shouldn't be inside; nothing hurts like getting it jammed," he says, doing a quick sample. "Now try again," he said. The next hit was better, according to him, but it still hurt like hell.

As if he accepted my limpness for consent, his hands drifted away from my waist, down to the curve of my ass. I immediately reached back to grab his wrist and returned his hand to my waist. Thank God I had my werewolf strength because he fought me every step of the way. If I had been simply human, he would have remained unchecked. Yet even with my strength, he was persistent. Three times I had to remove his hand from my ass. And then, once, from my breast. He placed his hand flat over me and squeezed. His fingers were clawlike, digging in. I winced. Merfolk men didn’t trim their nails as neatly as werewolf men.

one of them cried in terror, as his swords fell off his hands. “What are you people?” He cried, squeezing his face in great panic. “We’re your worst nightmare my dear,” I answered him, shining my sliver eyes and showcasing my deadly werewolf fangs. Alll of them began to tremble, it was as if they knew that they were going to die. To make matters even worse for them, Ryk and Tasha brought forth half of their werewolf side and Dane followed suit, a sharp chain saw in his hands, He looked deadly, as he rolled up his sleeves to showcase his thick muscular hands that were almost covered in vein and fur.

My body tensed. “She was alone that night, so I made sure I timed everything perfectly to when Aaron was getting back. Then I knocked.” He paused. Smiled, but not the teasing kind. The haunted, private kind. “She opened the door. And I used these.” In the blink of an eye, he held up one hand… and it shifted. Fingers curling, bones snapping into place, claws blooming from beneath his skin like thorns breaking through flesh. His wolf hand. My breath caught in my throat.

Ganymede smirked, “so confident in yourself. I will love to see…” “His fingers are twitching! The right one!!” Lea yelled in my mind. I didn't bother wondering how she knew that, her observation skills were better than my sight. Tapping into my werewolf abilities, I sped to his side and cut the hand off before he could blink. “What the…” I watched the pain register in his mind and he screamed, the sword vanishing as he clutched his bloody arm to his hand. “You bitch!!” His voice was teary and his eyes were red. His effort in holding his tears back was applaudable.