My Healing Touch His Obsession Novels & Stories

Maybe she’ll do me the honor of putting me out of my misery and claim the power that belongs to her anyway. “Doesn’t matter,” I gruff. “Can you fix him?” the first voice asks, a tinge of worry in their lilt. Olivia presses her hand to my wound, and I hiss; blinding white light fills my vision. “Of course I can heal him,” Olivia snarls. “I just shouldn’t, because he’s an idiot.” Familiar heat stitches up my stomach, instantly stopping the pain. I relax as my body fixes itself and my mind clears. Addictive gold swirls before my eyes. I lean into that touch, craving more.

Still, he didn't kiss me, he just said in a whispered voice: "I'm tired of being just your friend, Tasha. I don't want this game anymore.” "What do you want, then? "I asked, watching him. "I want you," he replied in a cold and direct tone. "I need you. And even if I tried to ignore these feelings, nothing came up in my life that was as real and surprising as you have been. I wake up and sleep thinking about you. I smell you all day long, even when we don’t meet. I'm going crazy, obsessed. That's not healthy, but...”

I hated myself for it. Breaking free, I stumbled out of his room, my heart racing. “What am I doing?” The question echoed in my mind as I stumbled out of Marco’s room. His touch lingered on my skin, branding me. I hated him, hated myself for the way my body responded. “He’s dangerous”, I reminded myself. A viper in a tailored suit. But the memory of his touch, the heat of his body, threatened to unravel my resolve. “You’re my wife now”, his words taunted me.

Being close to him was intoxicating and dangerous; it made me forget my own arguments, made me want to believe his twisted version of reality. “Ten years,” I repeated, walking over to the sofa and sitting down, keeping my posture straight and proud. “You were a man, Kiel. I was a child. That isn't love. That is obsession. And obsession is never healthy. It breaks things. It breaks people.” He didn't follow immediately. He stood there, watching me with that hungry, unwavering gaze, his hands stuffed casually into the pockets of his tailored trousers. He looked relaxed, completely in control, like a king in his court.

“Now start talking. Every detail. Start with the beach house and end with the part where he rearranged your organs.” My cheeks burned. “Dawn!” “What? I support women. Now spill.” I sighed, twisting a loose curl. “It was… intense. And sweet. And confusing. And I felt…” “Safe?” she finished softly. I swallowed. “Yeah.” There was a pause before she spoke again. “So, Noah Frost. Billionaire. Gorgeous. Gives you earth-shattering orgasms. The dream guy of half the city. But what about the complication?” I frowned. “What complication?”

Audrey would. Smith's cold stare cut through him. "My order is final," he said. Don't disagree on that." Tony clenched his fists, helpless and furious. A soft vibration broke the tension. Smith's phone lit up. It was the senior doctor of Hale's hospital that dropped a message. Senior Doctor — Hale Medical. The message preview flashed across the screen. Smith's eyes narrowed. For a moment—just for a moment the mighty CEO looked... afraid and tense. Smith swallowed and opened the message.

He was coming closer Neil "You can't resist me. We are made for each other." But I slapped him. I really liked him but after that the way he treated me and then the way he tried to come closer and all that mean stuff. I really got scared of him. I was so sure that he wasn't the one for me. He was my Obsession but that Obsession was my regret infact was going to be the greatest regret of my life. I slapped him when he tried to touch me again and this time I slapped him really hard. He was getting on my nerves and I had already beared so much.

Dorian looked between us, confusion plain on his face. "There's an easy way to tell," Elias said, drawing his knife. "Let's see which one heals." Before anyone could respond, he slashed the doppelganger's arm. She screamed, holding the wound. "Your turn," he said to me. I held out my arm. The blade bit into my skin, but instantly the wound glowed blue and closed itself. "The healing touch," Dorian whispered. "It is you." The doppelganger's face twisted with hate. "You'll regret this," she hissed, her form changing, melting until she looked nothing like me. She turned and ran into the trees.

"No doctors." "I am a doctor." "Then you know I should be dead already." He's right. With wounds like these, blood loss like this, he should have been gone before I found him. Yet here he is, talking to me, his color already better than when I first knelt beside him. "What are you?" I whisper. His grip on my hand tightens. "Someone you should run from." But I don't run. Can't run. Whatever this is… this strange pull between us, this impossible healing happening under my touch… it's the first thing that's felt real all night.

"You did it with the fern. You did it with the stabilizer. You’re not the 'Nothing-Ball' boy anymore." He raised his right hand, keeping his left hand firmly shoved into his pocket, away from the handkerchief. He tried to visualize the meridians, the way the ancient book had shown him—flowing, weaving, never stalling. A flicker of light appeared. It was small, a pathetic, pale blue glow that hovered inches above his palm. "That's it?" Bima scoffed, his voice sharp with frustration. "I need more than a nightlight. I need to heal. I need to mend."