Werewolf Hands Novels & Stories

He says. I rise on shaky legs, weak now that the pain has receded. Paws, not something that belongs on a wolf in the least. Panic makes my chest feel tight as I remember the muscular digits and I hold my human hands up to examine them. A cat, a huge one. Why the fuck were my hands changing into paws of a huge cat?

I unleash a barrage of swift attacks, my claws slicing through the air, meeting flesh and bone with a resounding impact. The first rogue werewolf lunges at me, jaws wide open, aiming for my throat. Instinctively, I twist my body, evading the attack with a graceful swiftness. With a powerful swipe of my paw, I strike his side, feeling the satisfying crunch of bones breaking beneath my claws. He yelps in pain, stumbling back, momentarily incapacitated.

The manevolent glowing orbs of a predator radiated from my eye sockets making me look inhumane and scary but still elegant. What were once my normal human hands got mangled and my skin peeled away like a banana. They were replaced with the large, hairy, dangerously clawed hands of a beast but in my case, it was slightly elegant. My entire body started molding itself into its new werewolf shape, which was usually a lot taller and broader than a human and somewhat slouched. So bones began to snap, lengthen, and pop through my skin and back into place. My ears stretched up out of the side of my head.

He crouched down and gripped me by my injured hand, probably trying to pull me up. Due to the state he was in, he must have forgotten that I didn’t have a wolf, which meant that I wasn’t as strong as the average werewolf should have been. He grabbed the hand with too much force for my body to handle and tried to pull me up at the same time with too much force as well. I screamed as I felt my shoulder bones dislocate and from the pain when he gripped my bandaged hand. He immediately dropped my hand as if it was hot coal and jerked back in surprise.

At that moment, my wolf growled lowly, as if gathering strength for the impending action. I stood by the bed, my gaze fixed intently on Nelson. Then, my hands began to change. The skin on my hands gradually became covered with a fine layer of black fur. My nails grew rapidly, becoming long and sharp, like a set of sharp blades. I slowly brought these sharp claw knives close to Nelson's body, using the precise control unique to a werewolf, touching his skin. In no time, Nelson began to react, starting to sweat. Half an hour later, I said, "Your condition requires another treatment."

"A stray human toy. Let's see what she's carrying." "Touch me and you lose the hand," I said, dropping into a low stance. The lead rogue laughed, a wet, guttural sound, and lunged forward with claws extended. I didn't have a wolf's speed, but I knew werewolf anatomy better than anyone alive. I sidestepped his clumsy charge, grabbed his extended wrist, and slammed my elbow directly into his radial nerve point. A crack echoed through the alley, accompanied by a howl of shock as his arm went limp. Before his companion could react, I swept his front leg, driving my heel down onto his kneecap until the joint popped backward.

My hands slid down the small of my back. I leaned my body halfway back and slowly opened my legs. My hands deliberately blocked my private parts, and my fingers trembled as I dug in. The excessive tension and friction stalled my movements, and my fingers couldn't get in, so they stayed outside. Xavier looked at me with cold eyes the whole time. His eyes were not warm, as if I was not a werewolf in his eyes, but a bomb that would explode at any moment. His gaze was sharp, and the end of his eyes rose like a hook with a curve. Too pale skin against his eyes extraordinarily dark blue, as if the infinite deep sea.

A slight pain near my elbow and I knew I had fractured my left hand. ‘Don’t you have any shame?’ I threw my hands up aimlessly. My small body couldn’t resist the overwhelming power of a fully grown werewolf. He punched me hard, once, twice, slammed my head against the counter, until my attempts to refuse him died down. I nearly blacked out at one point. when I came to my senses, something disgusting was happening.

But what’s worse than that is the one lying still behind her. It was Ajax in his wolf form. His eyes are looking at me as he breathes weakly. He was severely injured on the chest, but not enough to cause him death. I try reaching out to them with my hands. Holly flinches, and I notice something different at the same time. My hands aren’t the regular hands of a werewolf. There are the hands of a lycan, and it is filled with blood and guts. My chest pounds so loudly that I swear I can almost hear it out loud. Realization starts to settle in.

I fought against the excruciating pain, praying that it would soon be over. My gaze fell on my hands. "Oh, Goddess!" I yelled in horror, seeing that my hands had shifted into claws. What happened next was seen as a first in the werewolf world. ****