Werewolf Hands 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.

And Deya felt a sharp pain where he held her: as if something sharp had dug into her wrists. The girl screamed, trying to escape. She pulled out one hand, hissing in pain, and immediately hit the werewolf in the face. The swing was small, but fear gave strength. The man's head tossed to the side, and Beria seemed to wake up. His eyes brightened, assuming a meaningful expression. He pulled away, looking at the girl with incomprehension. He looked at his hands and his face showed fear. Animal-like nails lengthened, bent, turned into sharp dark claws.

Logan's sudden movement blurred the scene as he tightly clenched his fists. Wild Wolf's expression transformed dramatically. He instinctively reached for his gun but noticed his wrist had turned cold. A surge of pain shot through his head, causing him to wail and stagger backward, his gaze dropping to his right arm. To his shock, his entire hand was missing at the wrist. Wild Wolf gasped for cold air and glared at Logan. He noticed another young man in white standing beside Logan now. He was cold and expressionless as he held a person's right hand in his own.

It respected my choice. The infected werewolves around me roared madly, tearing at the chain-link fences. But as I approached, they fell silent for a miraculous moment. Perhaps even these mindless beasts could sense my grim resolve. I stood on a high point of the ruins and closed my eyes. I summoned all the power within me. Not just my spiritual energy, but my life force itself. This was the final gambit for a werewolf with the "Hands of God" gift—a life sacrifice.

" I bit down hard and refused to make a sound. My healing wolf stirred restlessly inside me. She was a small silver-furred wolf, gifted at sensing life forces. Right now, because of my injuries, she let out a faint, mournful whine. "Still being stubborn?" Grace pressed down harder with her boot. "I heard you treasure these hands of yours. You use them for surgery and to please Mr. Pierce, don't you?" Her gaze landed on my hands. They were slender, with long fingers, and had a thin layer of calluses on the fingertips from years of gripping scalpels. "I'll make sure you never hold a scalpel again!" Grace lifted her foot and stomped down hard on my right hand. A bolt of agonizing pain seared my

As werewolf man turned, Jasmine quickly diverted her gaze from his private part and looked up, his body and face was heavily covered in mud, but still she was clearly able to see a dark red blue marks on his right hand arm and entire chest area. It looked like he was stuck with thunder bolt or something like that. He surely must have broken at least one or two of his rib bone Jasmine thought to herself. However she was still confused on how did this werewolf man got so badly injured, there was moment when he was about to attack while in another moment he was lying on ground, Jasmine didn’t knew what happened but whatever it was, it dramatically injured this humongous and carnivorous creature

She writhes in pain when I try to clean the wound. “Sorry,” I said, blowing on the wound. “Luna, your hands are also red, it must be from the whip you held earlier,” she points at my hand. I took a look and it's true. My hands are a little red, if werewolves had grasped that whip the way I did, his hand would have turned to toast. “I guess I do have some werewolf genes after all, I'm fine, it doesn't hurt at all,” I said, tending to her wounds. And I didn't lie, it really does not hurt.

My wolf's furs and my fingers became claws, my palm a paw. One of my hands had literary turned into a wolf's hand. How was that Freaking possible? I drew her back and the fur disappeared right under my Watch. I panted heavily, my heart beating so fast it was painful. My hand was shaking as I brought it down and I gripped my sheets hard as I tried to steady my nerves. I wasn't a werewolf. I am not a freaking Werewolf. That makes lots of sense. But what am I then?

I reluctantly took out my hands and showed them to Elijah. “I can ex---” but I stopped myself when I saw my hands. There was still blood and cuts on both hands. What’s going on? None of the wounds had healed. I was shocked and surprise to find that the wound on my hands did not heal immediately, like it normally would. I was a werewolf and our healing ability to heal was one of the factors after puberty and the first transformation. "Tide?" I called inwardly. But my wolf was now silent to me. Ever since being betrayed by mate, Tide has been behaving weirdly. But she Tide did just warn me about Lily.

Her hands began to glow bright blue as she held them in the air out to her sides before throwing her hands forward, sending two bright blue balls of energy towards her enemies. A loud roar could be heard followed by the loud thundering of paws hitting the earth. Jaws drop as the largest black wolf they've ever seen comes charging toward them with someone on its back. They watch the little person on his back stand up, then leap off into the air, hovering, holding himself above them as his hands and arms ignited in flames. Zane is relieved when Zeus plows into the men that were on top of him, and they go flying. He wipes the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand and nods at Thaddeus b