Healer's Mate

Chapter Three: Michaela

My hand moved to push the man's hair out from his face, and in that time I took a deep breath to steady myself. I could feel Alpha Caleb and Beta Byron's eyes on me and it took everything I had to keep from gritting my teeth. 'Let's do this..' I thought to myself as I moved my hand down to his chest and pressed it against one of the gaping wounds. I closed my eyes and pushed forward with that part of myself that I learned from a young age was uniquely mine, that sense of... something. I could feel the power flowing out of my core and into my hand, feel the heat as the golden light began to highlight the many cuts and gouges.

And that's when the pain hit. I bit back a scream, feeling my teeth puncture through my bottom lip as the light began to knit up torn muscle and flesh. Each magical stitch that healed the body in front of me, was cut from my own essence, leaving behind a psychic wound. Over and over, I moved my hand, willing the flesh under my fingers to heal, to come together, even while knowing that each movement was going to leave me more and more wounded. I felt tears fill my eyes and spill out onto my cheeks, blood dripping from my mouth as I tried to keep all the pain inside, tried not to give Alpha Caleb the satisfaction of hearing me scream, of letting my pain echo off of these walls like his victim's did less than an hour ago. I could feel the cuts beginning to mark my own skin, and I knew I would be stiff from this healing, from this action.

Phantom blood seeped from my own body. I knew that it wasn't real, that the wounds weren't really mine, but the power inside of me had a price. All miracles had their price. The palm of my right hand pressed down upon the man's chest, right above his heart, and I felt the fluttering beat begin to strengthen under my touch. That, at least, didn't hurt. But it was a good sign. This brought an edge of relief, akin to the feeling of a cool breeze over my pained form, and allowed me to open my eyes to survey my work. His chest was healed, the skin pink and newly formed, but whole. He was breathing a lot easier too, the breaths raising the newly repaired skin of his chest up and down. I felt my body just drop, all the tension from my muscles seeping away as I watched that bare chest rise and fall. He was going to be okay, I was able to heal him. The pain began to ebb, even as the glow faded from around the two of us. It was as though now that the power had finished, it was able to return to me, soothing the ragged edges of remembered torture.

I knew that I wasn't feeling the full pain of the wounds, that if I had, I would have gone mad. No, I was feeling the shadow of pain, the barest touch of what the man before me had suffered. And I was glad that it wasn't any worse. Now that we were through all of that, I was able to really look at my patient. My first thought was that he was young, much younger than I had originally thought. What I had taken for the body of a warrior, was more of the body of a juvenile who had just passed into manhood. He looked soft, which was silly, considering the fact that when he was well, he could have bench pressed a small car, or torn me in half without any problem. His chest was bare, and while there was the muscles and the strength of the wolf under that pale, blood and sweat dampened skin, there was also something unfinished, untested.

His lower half was covered by a pair of jeans that had seen better days. Judging from bits and pieces of fabric that I could see strewn around the room, they started out as blue jeans, but the amount of blood made them look black. His hips were narrow and his legs appeared to be long and strong. This young man was built, not like a warrior, a fighter like Caleb, but like a runner, all long limbs and rangy. Lifting my gaze back up his body, I looked into his face, a gasp leaving my lips as I saw that his eyes were open and staring at me with a deep intensity. They were blue, those eyes. The color of cornflowers. I could feel the gratitude, the confusion, and the fear in his gaze, and I attempted to smile, to console, even as I could feel the hands pulling me backwards, pushing me away from the other man. "Go clean yourself up." I heard Alpha Caleb say, his attention not on me. I was an afterthought, and even as I shakily stood, coming to my feet, I could tell that I was dismissed completely. The hand on my shoulder tightened and I let out a soft cry, which went unnoticed as Byron pulled me back towards the door. I watched the Alpha the whole way, my eyes boring holes in his back as he stood over the younger man, claws growing from human fingers.

The last thing I heard before I was pulled through the large wooden doors was the Alpha's voice, an almost friendly tone in the words, "Now, let's try this again..."