Healing Hands Book Novels & Stories

“It is getting late. I will see that the Princess of Darkness plans something evil before finding a place to sleep.” Rhobart sat in front of Ayla, took her right hand into his, and started exercising her fingers, one by one. “Milton says that some nerves have been damaged, but with patience, we can heal your hands.” Ayla hoped Rhobart and Milton could help her because her hands were important not only for fighting but also for her magic. Ayla watched what Rhobart was doing. “Eluvene tried to heal my hands as best as she could, but healing is not her strong point. I don’t think she used her healing gift before me.”

And I can get to work properly. The amount of blood sends a jab of nausea to jitter me, and I feel my hands tremble with reluctance. No, I can’t falter now, the life of this man depends on me. I take in a deep breath and firm my face as I flatten my palms over the deep cuts tarnishing his torso. Think of the help you wish to render, and let the energy flow smoothly out of your palms. The kinder your heart, the more effective and faster the healing takes place.

The golden light flows from my palms into his flesh. I can feel it this time. The way the energy moves. How it finds the broken places and knits them back together. Bone. Muscle. Tissue. Layer by layer. It takes three minutes. When I pull my hands back, his leg is whole. Pink scar tissue where the wound was but functional. Healed. He stares at his leg. Flexes it. Tears stream down his face. "Thank you. Moon Goddess, thank you." "You're welcome." He leaves. Another wounded wolf takes his place. Then another. Word spreads through the camp. The hybrid can heal. The girl with golden hands.

“Put your hands on his wounds.” I hesitated, but Elijah’s steady gaze pushed me forward. Trembling, I placed my glowing hands on the man’s chest, over one of the deep gashes. The warmth seemed to flow from me into him, and his breathing began to even out. Encouraged, I moved my hands to another wound, then to the other man, repeating the process. The glow faded gradually, leaving the room in stunned silence. Both men’s expressions softened, their bodies relaxing into sleep. The healer checked their pulses, her hands shaking.

His hands move with deliberate slowness, and his fingers return to my skin. The moment they touch my bare skin jolt of something electric races through me. "Magic?" My voice is hoarse. "Healing," he corrects, his palms pressing flat against my ribs. Heat radiates from his hands, seeping into my skin, and I gasp as the soreness between my thighs eases, the rawness of overstimulation soothing into a dull, pleasant throb. "Just a little. Enough to take the edge off." His fingers trail lower, skimming over my hip bones, his touch feather-light. "You’re still so tense," he murmurs. "Let me—"

Like wrapping your frozen fingers around a mug of cocoa after walking home in the rain. I blinked. My brain short-circuited. “What the hell are you doing?” “Healing,” Lucien answered from behind me, his tone maddeningly casual. “Healing,” I repeated, deadpan. “Okay. Cool. That’s totally normal.” My breath hitched. His touch was firm but careful, fingers warm and slightly callused. Not the kind of hands you'd expect from a guy in a tailored suit who probably owned ten cars and never touched a dish. But these hands? They’d done things. Fought things. Maybe even lost things.

he asked. I sipped another one and swallowed. “Right after I almost had my death, I feel like my skills in healing progressed on its own. I could heal invisible wound and I could sense if someone is hurting or on the verge of death. Isn’t that strange?” I chuckled. “May I see your hand?” I don’t know what’s that for but I extended my palm to him. I lend my hands in his and he started squeezing it lightly. His hands were rough, perhaps from the fieldwork he did because of the calluses.

The first one grabbed my glowing hand to pull me away from Noah. He screamed. The sound cut through whatever trance I was in. I watched in horror as the sentinel's hand began to rot where he touched me. His skin blistered and peeled, revealing muscle and bone underneath. The decay spread up his arm like a disease. He fell to his knees, still screaming, clutching his ruined hand to his chest. "What did you do?" one of the other sentinels yelled, raising his sword. Before he could strike, the healer appeared. She moved faster than I'd ever seen her move, sliding to her knees beside the injured sentinel. Her hands glowed with healing light as she pressed them to his rotting arm.

She closed her eyes and touched her index finger and thumb together on both hands and brought them together on her chest level, twisting her hand until on hand was on top and the other under, her fingers on each hand pointing in the opposite direction as described in the book, then in one swift move, she twisted her hand around, wrapping it into the shape of a ball and then gradually drew them apart, a small ball of white light began to form from between her palms. She felt the sizzling energy and opened her eyes, her face shone with excitement at what she had just done and she glowed in happiness. The ball grew to a sizeable amount and then she held it with just one hand, the ball of energy

I felt like I got thrown into the fire when he held my hand and placed it on his cheek. "R--Roam, what are you--" He shut his eyes and gently caressed his thumb on the back of my hand. "Shh. Forget first aid. Your touch will heal me faster." "Huh?" My forehead creased. "What do you mean--" My eyes widened and shock hit me like a lightning bolt when his cuts slowly healed. What the hell? Did God just promoted me as a freaking faith healer?! This was the craziest thing I'd ever seen!