Wounds Book Novels & Stories

The wounds, left uncared for, bore silent witness to her suffering, crimson rivulets frozen in time. With a sense of urgency, he retrieved a first aid kit and meticulously tended to her injuries. The sting of antiseptic filled the air as he cleaned her wounds, each touch a silent prayer for her healing. Gently, he applied soothing ointment and bandaged her tender flesh with care, a silent guardian in the night.

Just like that night in the coronation hall. It was happening again. Dammit, I had forgotten to go through the library to find out the book that could explain this glow. Suddenly, his wounds were healing. His body was becoming brand new, the blood drying up. The only thing that was torn were his clothes, but all his wounds were healing. Within seconds, he was as good as new. I widened my eyes and stared at him as he slowly opened it to stare at me. “Are you okay?” I asked as he nodded.

Zane At first the pain was distant, dull—almost as if it didn’t belong to me, but to someone else lying too close, my body simply borrowing the memory of their suffering. Then, as my awareness slowly slid back into the present, I felt my own wounds: a burning gash along my ribs, a throbbing bite mark in my side, my shoulder heavy as if stones had been tied to it. But the blood was no longer flowing the way it had minutes ago, and my heartbeat was settling, slow and stubborn, the way only wolves heal—not gracefully, not gently, but with a ruthless efficiency.

She read the book again; to heal and to heat up. With her other hand, she undid her robe, exposing her naked body to the light. She unwrapped the bandage around her abdomen and let the bloody cloth fall to the floor. She caressed the injury with a finger, it was the first time she was seeing it after it had been stitched and indeed, it looked terrible.

I kept searching for useful materials, but the only books that I had gathered were Wound Healing, Manual for Wound Care, I’art De La Blessure, that I could not understand, and The Wounded Soul, which was very unrelated to physical wound. “Nothing.” I tossed the last book I read on the table. “All of it are basic knowledge about wounds and cleaning wounds that I already know.” “Are you talking to yourself?” Gabriel startled me on my sit. And beside him was Edith who was laughing. “For the love of saints can you stop doing that?” I complained. “What?” “Popping up out of nowhere.” “You know what, you are so focus with one thing that you tend to lock yourself out from everything.”

he ordered, voice grave and commanding. A group of wolves stepped forward immediately, lifting the wounded man with great care and carrying him toward the Alpha’s dwelling nearby. Blood dripped freely from his wounds, forming thin red streams that merged into dark pools on the ground. The marks tearing across his skin spoke of monstrous fangs, ferocious, merciless. His limbs were slashed open, his chest cut deeply, and his face bore the savage imprint of whatever horror had attacked him.

After all, bullet and knife wounds were everyday work hazards in his line of business. Remembering the rough feel of Andrei's firm skin under her fingertips when she ran her hands along the jagged gash on his side, Holly closed her eyes, heat igniting in that spot between her legs, that place that hadn't been touched in so long. What had possessed her to touch him was beyond her. But in her defence, scars were her weakness. They reminded her of beautiful tapestries, weaving untold stories of agony, chaos, and survival, stories waiting to be heard—

Now I saw him a little worried, but it was not fear that I read into his eyes, it was more despair that I was hurt and if something happened; I remained exposed because of my wound. Finally, he lit the fire. The wood crackled almost melodiously, and the heat slowly engulfed the entire room. My bones were warming, but it was hurting. “I know it can hurt a little bit, but try to hang in there. You were so lucky the bone was not broken, but only dislocated. In an hour or so you will feel better. "

I did that for a couple of days, three days to be exact before I slowly return to do my morning stretching. I didn't overwork myself when I start returning to my usual routine, as matter of fact I become conscious of the things I did. I also return to my normal diet plan. The wound on my arm is now already healed, but of course, I still need to be careful. For that ten days, I learn a lot of things about Vicenzo and his organization. I learn that he's much dangerous than I thought the first time I read the book.

“Basically, they’ve got stab and slash wounds that aren’t healing. They’re basically stuck in wolf form.” “What happened? A slash wound should heal as soon as the wound edges come together.” “Well they aren’t.” “I brought medication for infections. I believe it will work for some poisons.” “My father’s gone too far this time.”