Wings And Claws Novels & Stories

His hands twist, the fingers lengthening as his fingernails harden and transform into long, curved black claws. The female instructor steps back calmly, but everyone else remains perfectly still. Magnus’s shirt tears open as a wet ripping sound splits the silence and something pushes outward. I stop breathing. Two massive, leathery, bat-like wings – thick with dark veins and tipped with sharp, bone-white talons – burst through his flesh, expanding with a heavy, leathery snap that sends a gust of freezing wind across the gravel. I blink, staring at the terrifying expanse of ribbed skin and bone stretching out from our instructor’s back, while the nervous redheaded girl beside me lets out a pa

His knife gleamed as he drove it toward her chest. Raven’s wolf exploded. Her claws ripped free, her eyes burning gold. She caught his wrist mid-swing, bones cracking under her grip, and with a snarl that shook the trees, she threw him back into the dirt. Gasps ripped through the Fangs, terror now plain in their faces. Cole screamed, clutching his broken wrist. “See?!” he howled. “She’s one of them!” But Raven wasn’t looking at him anymore. She was staring at Reed, who had seen her claws before, but never like this. Never unleashed.

It's easier for adult dragons to fight the urge to shift, but it's way harder for dragons in transition. Avani had just hatched sixteen years ago so he was still in transition. His senses must have taken over that he couldn't stop the shift. “Bring him to me.” my father commanded, his voice detached. The thought of losing his grandson had stripped his ‘High Lord' mask, revealing the man underneath. Aidas clapped his hand on my back, a sympathetic look in his eyes. Carden shook his head with pity. Avani’s painful wails reached the throne room before he did. The wails were so similar to when his mother gave in to the plague many years ago. It was so unfair that my nephew had to suffer the same

“It’s about embracing him. But remember, your wolf is not the only thing you’ve inherited.” Zach stiffened, jaw clenched. “I know.” My brows furrowed. “What does she mean?” He didn’t answer. Not until the shadows rippled around him. It started in his back, like the skin itself couldn’t contain what was inside. Then, with a sound like tearing silk and cracking bone, two enormous black wings unfurled from his shoulder blades. I froze, my breath stolen from my chest. They weren’t soft, feathered wings like an angel’s. They were sleek, scaled like obsidian, each feather sharp and jagged, gleaming like blades under the moonlight. At the ends, the tips curved into deadly points, like swords waitin

Mom jabbed a finger at Jillian, who was shrieking with her hands clamped over her head, and snarled, "Jillian! How could you hurt Wanda? Do you even have a conscience?" Jillian never thought she'd be found out this way. All the blood rushed out of her cheeks in an instant. "Mom, I didn't mean to hurt Wanda! I'm just feeling insecure. Please give me another chance! I promise I'll treat Wanda right from now on. I won't cause any more trouble for her!" Mom gave her a withering look and cut her off without mercy. "You said the same thing when Wanda first came home. I'm not buying it again."

Arms crossed at all times—unless dragging someone out or blocking a door. Content Warning: This story contains themes and depictions of sxual assult, r*pe, non-consensual acts, gr*oming, sx traffcking, and dr*g use. Reader discretion is strongly advised. These topics are part of the narrative and may be distressing or triggering for some individuals. Please take care while reading.

The audience erupted in thunderous applause, and several world-renowned dancers gave us rave reviews. Marissa wheeled me to center stage. Since the incident, this was my first time stepping onto a stage again as a choreography consultant. I bowed my head alongside the other dancers, grateful for the audience's support. This time, the flashing cameras and the eyes of strangers didn't scare me. I felt like I had found a new purpose. … Three years later, I choreographed a dance called "The Fallen Butterfly." I performed it entirely from my wheelchair and became the first dancer of my kind.

Our eyes are a striking, crystalline blue, bright with intelligence and ancient wisdom. They hold the depth of glacial ice, the clarity of a predator’s focus, and the calm reassurance of a mystical guide - all in a single gaze that pierces through darkness and doubt. From our shoulders and back sprout magnificent, furred wings, vast as they are elegant. Membranes like frozen glass ripple with each movement, carrying the faint hum of magic and winter winds. Our limbs end in strong, clawed paws, each movement precise and silent, capable of sudden bursts of terrifying speed or gentle, graceful steps.

My eyes watered just staring at them. He lifted up from me, placing his hands on his waist and trying to strike a pose. He looked majestic, like a god. "What do you think, huh? Wanna do it with my wings out? That's very kinky of you, Cross-" His wings fluttered with great winds- Wings… Two… wings? "Why do you have two?” A/N: I'm back.

From what I knew, the creature could not fly, but its wings were used to keep it upright, and it could use them as a weapon. Sskíatokos had obsidian claws where the wings bent, much like a pteranodon. Instead of hand-like paws, the claws were sharp and covered in the same substance as its vomitous spray. They could be used like acidic daggers, creating lethal wounds. The creature vomited its substance, hitting the shield surrounding the warriors. The shield sizzled and faltered, no longer protecting the warriors. Another witch hastily cast another one, replacing it. This continued as the warriors cast fire spell after fire spell on each of the three monsters.