Healing Hands Books Novels & Stories

Amber’s POV I swear to the fucking Moon Goddess I will shave every single inch of my hair off if one more strand falls in my face! For the ninth time this evening, as I was practicing suturing in my dorm room. Advanced Healing 2 wasn't for the faint of heart, and with it already being the second week, they've thrown the book at us. I've treated my first human and, in hindsight, gained a friend. I've treated burned wolves and observed the different speeds of healing in an Alpha, Beta, Gamma, and Omega. It's all been so fascinating!

The music at the Full Moon feast was deafening. I bent down, fumbling with the strap on my heel. When I looked up, they were already gone. My fated mate, Callum—the feared Alpha of the Red Maple pack—and Freya, my once-best friend. I started to follow. To lift my dress and run. But the space by his side—my space, the Luna's space—was already gone. Their bodies were pressed close. Whispering about pack politics. Things I'd never understand. It was like I wasn't even there. An outsider. I always knew we'd have an arranged marriage. Callum and me. Finding out we were Mates was no surprise. Our wolves were made for each other. A fatal attraction. Until Freya proved herself as a lethal fighter. S

he protested. "Always think positively, after all, it'll benefit both of us," Sheila chimed in, placing a reassuring hand on Richard's shoulder. "Okay, we'll give it a try and see," Richard said, his tone resigned. As Alexander arrived at the hospital, he made his way to Doctor Clemson's office where he sat down anxiously and awaited the results from the lab. Suddenly, the door creaked open and a nurse entered, handing Doctor Clemson a file and left in a haste. Alexander watched as the doctor's expression changed, causing a sense of unease to wash over him.

Without hesitation, I placed my left hand in his. “Don’t kill me, just watch,” he tells Edgar. Kristopher cuts the side of my hand. It doesn’t hurt. I have experienced cuts on my hands many times before. Edgar growls and reaches for Kristopher. “Wait,” I tell him as I put my spare hand on his chest. Kristopher cups my cut hand. Seconds later, he releases me. My hand is healed. Kristopher held up his hand, revealing a cut on his left hand just like the cut that was on mine. “You’re a healer?” I said, not quite believing what I was seeing. Magical healers are rare. Very rare.

“You’re not allowed to die right now, okay?” He groaned in response. That was not comforting. My eyes darted to the box of spellbooks I had dropped. I crawled over, threw the lid off, and started flipping through the titles like a madwoman. Finally I came across a small green leather book with little vine engravings curling up the spine. “Oh my god.” My heart thudded. “This is it.” The book of healing magic. I didn’t need to read the title. I remembered it. Isaac and I had practically used that book like a first aid kit growing up. Scraped knees, magic rashes, spider bites—you name it, this book fixed it.

Lorren laughed and handed him a special item when he expressed his concerns. “You can refer to this manual when in doubt,” the drunken priest gifted a basic anatomy book. “However, you’re not exactly a pure-blooded human. Use that as a mere reference. When healing those who can use mana, use their mana channels as a guide. It’s easier that way.”

The version of him in the memory, declaring with absolute conviction: "When I'm healed, you'll be the first person I recognize." The memory cut to the night before the Healer came. He was holding my hand, swearing solemnly to mark me. Promising we'd be together forever. The memory zoomed in on the hands that had cared for him all along. Those hands were noticeably smaller than Vivienne's. The fingertips had small, rough calluses — the kind you only got from years of gathering herbs in the wild. Vivienne had been pampered her entire life. She could never have had hands like that.

Oh, I think I will like that a lot. I stopped reading for a moment and looked in my mate’s direction when I felt his eyes on me and sure enough. He was looking at me. “What are you doing?” He asked through our mind link. “Hillan sent me a healer handbook p*f. That’s what I am reading.” I answered. “There’s a healer handbook?” He asked the same question I asked Hillan when he first told me about the book. “There is. It’s a diary. The healer in his pack made it and she shared it with me. It’s a lot but it’s fun.”

“Tell me everything.” I did. She listened with the full attention she gives when it matters, especially when it’s about people she loves. When I finished, she was quiet for a second. “He’s going to help people,” she said. “Yeah,” I said. “I think he is.” “With his hands,” she added, almost laughing. “Literally with his hands.” “Apparently.” She looked up at the ceiling, half smiling. “That is so, Max. Fox houses, toast under the door, and now healing people with his hands. Of course, that’s what his ability turned into.”

That was the last thing I remember when it all went dark. What felt like ages later, I felt soft hands on mine, and they were getting warmer by the second. A smooth flow of comfortable energy flowed through me, which confused me, but I had no sensation of fear or danger. Whatever this was, it provided an enveloping sense of strength and…healing. Was this what it felt like to be healed? I searched my mind for the one responsible and could not see anything. My heart searches for the healing energy, but it is difficult. There seems to be something blocking it. Something is keeping the healing tether from connecting me to this person healing me.