Black Healer Novels & Stories

I can feel Mystic coming forward and diving into his realm of healing souls. ‘Oh, this one has many black fogs. He has so much to hide. He has no positive intentions, Tori. Be careful of this one. He aims to take over as permanent Alpha.” Mystic pushes forward her own aura and I begin to glow. Black shakes off his hand like I’ve burned him and steps back. Eric quickly stands before and pushes me back. Tammy grabs my arm and pulls me behind her. “What is the meaning of this? You call yourself a healer?” He shouts into the room. Dr. MacDonald seems to be having trouble figuring out what is going on. Looking back and forth between the two of us, he lifts his hands in defense; trying to calm us

he replied with a grin that would have charmed a less wary she-wolf. I gathered my healing satchel. "We're finished for today. Tomorrow, you'll escort me to the Northern healing grounds to gather herbs." "Whatever you say, Healer Winters." His obedience sounded suspiciously like mockery. As evening fell, I instructed Caleb to accompany me back to my private healing den. The moon hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the territory paths. Outside my healing den, a familiar black SUV was parked. Alexander Blackwood leaned against it, a wolfsbane-infused cigarette glowing between his fingers in the moonlight.

Of course, it was hidden to natural eyes and to those who were foul of heart. A Black Healer stood in the center, his face obscured by a dark hood, and a palpable aura of energy surrounded him. Audrey could feel the raw power emanating from the Healer, and a sinister smile crept across her lips. She licked her lips and came closer to him. With total confidence, Audrey stepped forward, her eyes locked on the Healer. "I seek the power that you possess," she declared. There was noone more desperate and ambitious as she was, that she could bet her life on.

I took the emergency bill from my desk and handed it to her. “Send Caleb.” She stared at me. “A regular healer?” “Yes.” “What about you?” I looked toward the red moon outside. Through the bond, Alexander’s pain surged again, followed by something hotter, darker, more desperate. His wolf was searching for my scent. For my blood. For the body it had always used to survive the night. I closed my hand over the edge of the desk until the bandage pulled tight. “I’m not going.” The healer swallowed, then nodded and turned to leave. At the door, she hesitated.

Finally, he slammed the folder shut and shot to his feet. "Bastards! This is absolutely inhuman!" he roared. "How could they do this to their own daughter?" His eyes blazed with righteous anger. "That girl had more talent in her little finger than most healers have in their whole body! Alpha Blackthorne, you have my word. I'll help get justice for Ms. Blackwood!" He began pacing around the office like an enraged wolf. "I hereby announce that my pack is unilaterally terminating all partnerships with Moonlight Healing Studio!"

“That depends. Who’s asking?” The man smiled faintly, his fangs just visible. “I am Alpha Brian of the Vargus pack.” His gaze moved between them slowly. “I was told there was a healer here—someone the Alpha of the Blackwood pack would die to protect. But I don’t see anyone who looks... important.” Becca exhaled sharply. “Then maybe you need your eyes checked.” Mira flinched. “Becca—” Becca took a step forward. “I’m the healer.”

I asked. “If it is black magic, the antidote can only keep him alive for just a few days—A day or two. Depends on how much they plan to make him suffer. But, there's a sect that specialises in these kinds of healings” She paused, watching Ryker. I felt she was going to say something triggering. Something Ryker would object to, and as she said the words, I watched Ryker. “The Black Isle pack” she dropped the bomb, and my man was expecting it. “Oh my goddess!”

I can’t tell anymore. My wolf’s howling inside, scratching, pacing. She wants to submit. She wants to be claimed. I refuse. Not like this. Not drugged. Not desperate. Not whenever the last rational thought reminds me of why I can't let it happen no matter how much I want it to. So, I speak to distract myself. “In the black market there’s a healer. A rogue. No questions, no name, just service.” “Do I even want to know how you know this?”

Each movement was powerful and graceful, his presence commanding respect from anyone who crosses him. Mikhail, though slightly smaller, was equally impressive. His fur was a dark grey, almost silver, with streaks of black running through it. His eyes were a warm amber, glowing with a fierce intelligence and cunning. Mikhail’s movements were swift and agile, embodying a lethal blend of strength and speed. Fully shifted, they both let out a collective howl, a sound that echoed through the forest, a signal to everyone that the devil is back . They sprinted through the woods, their paws barely making a sound on the forest floor, moving as one cohesive unit.

“Pardon. Have we met? Your face is familiar.” Brynn’s pulse went cold. She turned slowly. The healer was older, perhaps sixty, with the kind of careful patient eyes she had begun to recognize as the eyes of wolves who worked Senna’s network. He was looking at her with mild courteous puzzlement, the sort of look a healer gave a wolf he was trying to place from another keep. “I don’t think so, sir. I’m from the northern roads. Apprentice to Hollis.” “Hollis? That old trader. Ah.” The healer’s puzzlement eased into a polite smile. “I must be confusing you with someone. Forgive me. I see many wolves in this country and the faces blur.” He inclined his head and went on his way into the inn.