The Filthy Claws: Out for Blood

By J.K. Jones

Death. Destruction. Decay. 

The fate of the clans hangs in the balance as Ryu Suzuki faces the ultimate battle of his life. War is coming, and with it comes the looming threat of the Bloodhound Prince, a diabolical necromancer determined to destroy everything Ryu holds dear.

With enemies at every turn and the fate of the wo

• Language: English
• Publisher: jkjonesauthor
• Release date: Oct 18, 2023
• ISBN: 9781738731886

J.K. Jones

Hey there, I'm J.K. Jones, a Canadian author who likes her coffee black and loves to write dark M/M romance novels. I grew up in the bustling city of Toronto, and it's given me a bit of a different take on things. I'm just passionate about telling stories that grab your attention. I've been into creative writing for a while, and it's cool how I can naturally put together characters and plots that keep folks hooked. You might have come across my books like "Claw of Exile" and "Weeps Indigo." They're all about diving into the messy parts of love and relationships. I've been hanging out in Toronto for as long as I can remember, just doing my thing and spinning tales. I hope my writing connects with you and adds a little something to the world of dark M/M romance.

Book preview

The Filthy Claws

Out for Blood

J.K. Jones

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Independently Published

Copyright

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Copyright © May 30th, 2022 J.K. Jones All rights reserved

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

Imprint: Independently published

Cover design by: Art Painter

Contents

Characters & Clans

1.Chapter 1

2.Chapter 2

3.Chapter 3

4.Chapter 4

5.Chapter 5

6.Chapter 6

7.Chapter 7

8.Chapter 8

9.Chapter 9

10.Chapter 10

11.Chapter 11

12.Chapter 12

13.Chapter 13

14.Chapter 14

15.Chapter 15

16.Chapter 16

17.Chapter 17

18.Chapter 18

19.Chapter 19

20.Chapter 20

What's Next?

About the Author

Characters & Clans

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The Midnight Stalkers

Motto: Perseverance conquers all

Luger

Chandler

Shamus

Berriston

The Filthy Claws

Motto: Light in the darkness

Flint

Kenyon

Marissa

Ryu Suzuki

The Blackfang Hounds

Motto: Progress through wisdom

Rovell

Thorin

Wulfrun

Haru Yamamoto

The Impure Canines

Motto: By sword and shield

Caine

Fermin

Aarbrok

Forrester

The Thunder Hunters

Motto: Prepared for all

Rohan

Ricky

Reed

Kazan

Weiss

The Silvercrest Howlers

Motto: Steadfast and loyal

Trmon

Deryn

Randolph

Rocky

Zy

Micah

Michael

Outlands

Mount Fuji

Gods

Ehros, god of nature

Uarus, god of the wind

Qharuer, god of the sky

Qartyx, god of magic

Haveus, god of the stars

Qitdum, god of love

Thogues, god of virtue

Goddesses

Oslene, Goddess of Torture

Vuneas, Goddess of The Sky

Volena, Goddess of Envy

Chapter 1

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The Outlands

Ryu vaults through the maze of buildings. He darts left, narrowly missing the sharp bend as the sky rumbles, and heavy rain bounces off the cobblestones. Ominous clouds blot out the sun. The graying world around him is hazy with fog. Ryu grunts, his feet pushing him faster than ever before. No time to stop.

He sprints, rounding the corner, nearly blending into the darkness. Drops of rain hammer against his skin. He’s caked in mud and shit from being trapped earlier.

Those fucking bastards got the drop on them.

His lungs burn, and his feet feel like anvils. No time to rest. They’re gaining on them. Ryu breezes down the street, his Katana in hand, ready to cut down anything in his path. He turns right, his feet pounding against the concrete as he thinks of a way out of here. He doesn’t know this area; it’s foreign to him. Every turn he makes takes him deeper into the Outlands. A knot ties in his stomach as he drives himself forward and finally reaches the alleyway.

They’re herding him.

There’s no point in running. Ryu pivots, swiping his sword just in time to cut the head off a vicious Lycan leaping toward him. Five more take their place. Hikari ¹ glows brightly, momentarily blinding them all before it shoots off like a boomerang.

The Lycans move swiftly, crawling on the walls like cockroaches, inching toward their prey. Yet Hikari travels like lightning, shredding the ones closest to Ryu and spinning like a rotator back into his hand.

Why did he have to piss off a Bloodhound Prince?

Ryu groans. These creatures multiply like cancer. When one dies, three more spring up. It’s a fucking nightmare. Not only that. They’re evolving. The Lycans he first fought no longer exist. These can think for themselves; they’ve even strategically separated him from his pack.

They don’t have time for this shit. Ryu gathers his strength and splits Hikari in two, unleashing one and clutching the other. The Lycans inch back, cowering from the white light that shines brighter than the sun. Ryu lunges and cleaves one Lycan in two while Hikari spins like mad around him. He ducks, weaves, and slices, hacking them to pieces. The wolfsbane causes them to sizzle, giving off a horrible greenish glow.

Lycans roar, their teeth sharp like swords as they dash toward him. Their contorted figures eclipse the moon. They stand over eight feet tall, with demonic red eyes. Ryu chops one of their arms off and bobs just in time to avoid the wide swipe of their claws. He pants wildly, muscles aching from fighting these creatures all night.

They’ve been on the run for days.

Since they left Fermin’s safe house in the Outlands, these monsters have been hunting them left, right, and center. It’s revolting. Hours ago, he got separated from the others. He can only hope Micah can hold them all off before they can reconvene later.

A Lycan crashes into him, sending them both flying into the side of a car. Ryu grunts, and his body judders violently from the impact. Another Lycan scratches and shreds his skin. It’s agony. Ryu nearly screams as it rakes its razor-like claws down his chest.

He shoves his sword into its mouth, down the monster’s throat. The beast doesn’t pause, doesn’t even wince. Ryu watches in horror as it continues to scratch wildly at his arms and chest. What the fuck? Blood spurts from the wounds, and his vision nearly whites out from the pain. He calls Hikari to him. The sword slams into his hand, merging into one. Ryu grits his teeth. The Lycan screams as Hikari burns like fire, slicing its head clean off.

Shoving the creature away, Ryu breathlessly staggers to his feet. Rain continues to fall, washing away the blood and dirt that coats his skin. Corpses lie everywhere, severed bodies, with limbs scattered around the alleyway.

It's pure carnage. Ryu stumbles, his Katana nearly slipping from his grasp. Fuck. His arm is fucked up, and his body is weak from fatigue. Micah. He must inform him.

Ryu reaches out through the link, calling his Alpha.

Micah responds immediately and sends him their location.

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Ryu meets them in the forest, just beyond the Outlands. Their clothes are torn, riddled with holes and bite marks, stained with dirt and grime. They’ve been running for days—weeks—trying to make it through the Outlands with the Lycans hot on their heels. They are out of time. Amaya is dying. The clans are gearing up to rise against them, and the Bloodhound Prince wants them all dead.

And it’s only Monday.

Fucking hell. Ryu walks slowly toward them. His wounds are taking longer to heal than he expected. The Lycans are getting stronger, evolving in ways that no longer make any sense. How is the Bloodhound Prince controlling them? Where did they come from? Is there a second vassal? The thoughts make his stomach turn. How many more could be out there? Worst of all, how do they keep finding their location? There might be a spy in their group. It wouldn’t be unusual. How else can Randolph keep tabs on them? The question right now is who.

The wolves assembled around Micah, their expressions weary and gasping for breath. They had narrowly escaped, facing a dire situation. Byakuren, Trmon began with a respectful bow, though he winced and promptly straightened himself. We should set up camp here for the night.

The area is too open, Shamus interjects. Lycans can attack us from all angles.

Then what should we do? We are too far away to find shelter, Fermin says.

We go back to the Outlands, and see if we can find another house.

Go back to the place that nearly spit us out? The Lycans swarmed the area like cockroaches. If we go back there, we’re all as good as dead. Deryn barks.

You don’t know that, Shamus says passionately. You don’t know—

There's no need to repeat yourself. I ignored you just fine the first time, Deryn snarls. We don’t have time for foolishness. We set up camp here, alternate watch, and sleep with one eye open.

Do you have to be such an ass? Weiss asks. We are all in this fight together. The Midnight Stalkers would never show their brothers such disrespect.

If you have a problem with me, then cry me a river and drown yourself in it. Deryn steps forward menacingly.

Deryn, shut up. Trmon sighs. Byakuren?

Everyone turns to Micah. A strange silence settles over the group, revered as if any sound would pierce it. We make camp here.

His word stands as the final decree. The wolves immediately spring into action, swiftly establishing a rudimentary camp within their surroundings. Trmon takes on the responsibility of assigning those who will stand watch. While Micah ventures towards the treeline, marking the area with his scent to ward off potential intruders, Deryn kindles a campfire. Their meal comprises whatever meager provisions they can buy, a few cottontails serving as their sustenance.

We won’t actually have to work with the Filthy Claws, will we? Alhazred plops down beside the fire and spreads his short legs out in front of him. I think I’ll die if I have to watch them all bathe in the mud.

Shut up, Weiss hisses, looking around cautiously. Byakuren.

What? Alhazred asks. I’m just asking. They do bathe in shit. Don’t they, Ryu?

Everyone goes eerily quiet. Nobody moves or says anything for a long time. Ryu isn’t surprised at all. It’s always been like this. Even after he saved Alhazred’s life, he still sees him as nothing more than dirt under his fingernails. Goddamn him. Ryu should’ve left him to die. How about I cut you up into tiny pieces and feed you to—

What’s going on? Micah comes back, interrupting their conversation. The rest of the wolves pretend to be busy preparing for the night, while Ryu seethes in silence. Fucking bastards. Didn’t he save them all? Now when it comes down to it, they all treat him like shit again? It’s unbelievable. And Micah is completely and utterly clueless as usual. Ryu sets up his tent, irritation simmering in his veins. When he’s finished, he sits down.

Micah’s black eyes catch his over the fire, and they hold with a fierceness that rocks him to his core. With one look, he beckons him into the sea, into the unknown.

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Forbidden fruit often grows in constellations, tender branches in autumn's sweet summer glow. Then it turns and morphs into something else. Over time, it becomes sodden with bacteria and mold. Addiction, obsession, all things depraved.

He can’t stop. He won’t stop, not until his everlasting thirst is quenched. Like all rotten things, he is brown and fungal. They say he is an Omega of the lowest level. They aren’t wrong. He is forever tainted, forever marked by death and decay.

Ryu craves something he can’t reach. He needs something unattainable, like a man in the desert, chancing upon an illusion of spring water.

Lips crash together heatedly. He moans, allowing Micah to push his tongue deeper into his mouth. He is like a rock against him, solid and warm. His hands are rough and ruthless as they grip his waist. Micah kisses him like he is dying of thirst, and Ryu is a moist fruit.

The Māku tingles, causing sparks to fly across his vision. This is bad. Terrible. Ryu takes a stuttering breath, watching in rapture as Micah pulls off his ruined kimono and takes one of his pink pebbled nipples into his mouth. The wounds from earlier have healed, but he still feels a twinge of pain.

It’s too much and not enough. Ryu can’t think like this, not with Micah abusing the bud, flicking and licking it like mad. It hurts. He whimpers when Micah switches over to the other one.

This shouldn’t be happening. Yet more often than not, it does.

Micah will continue to seek him out, and Ryu will continue to relish it. This love isn’t something to celebrate; it's fraught with lies and betrayal. Ryu will never trust Micah ever again. That doesn’t mean he wouldn’t fuck him. Sex between them was always easy, like breathing. Love isn’t in his heart to give.

Ryu loses himself.

Fisting Micah’s black hair, he groans as pleasure tears through him. They’ve been on the road for days, avoiding the wayward Lycans and trying to reach the Filthy Claws clan in time. This is the first night they can rest.

Micah pulls back, his face carved out of caramel jade, angelic and peaceful. Oh no. Ryu’s stomach flips with anticipation. Not now. He’s hard. His body is thrumming with energy. Why can’t they just have fun? Micah straightens and cradles his face in his hands.

Ryu.

No.

I love you.

Then why can’t you defend me? Ryu wants to scream. Irritation ignites like fire, and suddenly he’s seething. After all he did for them, they still treat him like shit. As if working with the Filthy Claws is something so inconceivable and degrading, that they can’t even wrap their heads around an alliance.

Why does he have to ruin everything? Ryu drops his arms. As he steps away, the air turns cold between them. Earlier, Micah trapped him, backed him up against a large tree, and devoured him whole. Before, it would have been easy. Ryu never minded being bent over the nearest object and being fucked into oblivion. Things are different now. Micah makes it a point to fucking declare his feelings everywhere they go. It doesn’t matter, though; the pack will never accept him.

Ryu doesn’t want feelings. He wants teeth and skin right now. He wants to fuck. Not think about how the man before him can crush his heart in the palm of his hand or how Micah has already done that. He doesn’t think about the lies and betrayal between them, the sickly stench of hatred and love all mixed into one.

Of course, he loves Micah but hates him just the same.

Why do you have to ruin everything? Ryu asks, bitterness gnawing at his core. What’s the point in bringing up the past? Why do they need to talk about it? Once all this is over, they’ll go their separate ways. Ryu can’t stomach anything else. So what if he has his fun in the meantime? It’s been weeks since they fucked. With the wars brewing and the Bloodhound Prince out for blood, their relationship has taken a back seat.

Ryu.

Don’t touch me. Ryu frantically buttons up his vest. Why can’t you just shut up and fuck me? Why does it have to be… I want nothing to do with you.

Micah goes quiet, and his features turn cloudy.

The pack is still gathered around the campfire, their voices carrying on the wind. Ryu runs a hand through his hair, which falls like silk down his back.

They stare at each other. Ryu feels naked under Micah’s penetrating gaze like he can’t hide, no matter what. He hates that Micah can see it—the conflict, the desire to be more, to have more. However, it nearly killed him the last time. He can’t allow Micah to hurt him ever again.

Micah clenches his jaw. Fine.

Byakuren, Trmon calls, beckoning Micah back over.

Micah gives Ryu one last look, then walks away. Ryu releases a sigh and licks his blistering lips. He knows he looks utterly debauched. He needs a moment to calm down before he can head back. It’s too complicated. He doesn’t want to think about it.

Ryu can’t lose himself to this delusion. He can’t blur the lines of fact and fiction. Eventually, the man in the desert realizes that the mirage is just that: a mirage. And the spring water he's been drinking is sand.

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Lying strewn across the forest floor are the remnants of forgotten trees, victims of past storms that have ruthlessly torn them asunder. Unforgiving seasons have further weathered their remains, leaving behind an array of hulking timber and rich, earthen hues. Needles from the surrounding pines litter the ground, and their familiar scent teases Ryu's nose, momentarily breaking his reverie of phantom kisses and fiery caresses. He lets out a sigh and leans against the tree trunks, running his hand along their rough surfaces.

Upon withdrawal, his fingers glisten with a wet, sticky residue, and Ryu's brow furrows in puzzlement. Distra root. What is it doing here? This root is known for its use in emitting signals, producing a potent scent akin to a beacon, meant to attract other wolves or Lycans. Ryu deduces that someone from the camp must be intentionally leaving this trail, likely as a means for Randolph to locate them.

Shit, he should get back. He strides over to the campfire and joins the other men, who are engaged in a heated discussion.

That won’t work. Deryn derides. His usually bright blue eyes are ringed black with fatigue. The past few weeks have worn them all thin. After traveling to meet what they thought was Tsukuyomi’s vassal and fighting against the Lycans, they barely had a chance to rest. The Filthy Claws will never allow us to use their southern borders. It’s against the treaty. Not to mention it would inflame the Blackfang Hounds.

What choice do we have? Shamus says. The Midnight Stalkers don’t have the resources to support the Impure Canines, the Thunder Hunters, and the Silvercrest Howlers.

The only way out is the way through, Caine chimes in. We must draw Randolph out of the Silvercrest Clan and meet him on a plain field. That would even the odds and not exert our resources.

If we draw them out, it’ll leave us open to the Bloodhound Prince, Trmon says. If he can conjure thousands of those Lycans, then our armies will be decimated in a matter of minutes.

That’s why I said it won’t work, Deryn snaps. We have to kill them quietly. A few good men are worth a hundred. Once we get the support from the Filthy Claws, we attack Randolph and beat him at the Silvercrest Howlers’ clan. I know Randolph. He isn’t stupid enough to meet us head-on, especially with another Bloodhound on our hands.

That sounds dirty and underhanded. Caine snorts. That’s not the way of war. We must meet him head-on. Those who die will die with honor.

And risk the lives of thousands of wolves? If I wanted to hear from an asshole, I’d fart.

Deryn, Trmon admonishes. We must keep an open mind.

The Impure Canines will not fight dirty, Fermin says. We will fight with honor. We meet our enemies in a direct fight.

Please, Rohan scoffs. Fight with honor? Didn’t you guys start an entire war with each other over a fucking dog?

"That was centuries ago," Fermin snarls.

Ryu walks away.

They usually end the night like this—clawing at each other's throats. Ryu is so tired of it all. After they left the Outlands, he thought things would be different. That the impending war and Lycans disease would be enough to make them all smarten up. Turns out all that was fruitless.

They’re never going to change.

He trudges to his tent, fatigue settling deep in his bones. The minute he lies down, his eyes prickle with tears. Amaya. He’s failed her. Utterly and