4

GEORGIA

✿

The sound was far away, but to our ears it sounded like a log crashing down. Then came the pounding of footsteps. Slowly and quietly at first, then faster and more carelessly, as if his cover had been completely blown. Until he finally ran.

I immediately felt Beau change. Previously he was the protector, wanting to save the helpless woman who was being hurt so mercilessly. But now his ruthless, wild side awoke; a side that could have no mercy. He wanted to catch the loot. And hunt them down.

"Go on," I urged, hiding my fear of experiencing the full extent of my powers' uselessness again. "I take care of you."

Everything about him was tense. His body trembled with the need to release his wolf and protect the pack. He stared at me warily. "No."

Another gush of blood trickled down our fingers.

I pressed harder on the wound and objected, "But then he'll get away with it."

"Hail her, now!" he snapped harshly, struggling to control himself.

Another protest from me and a loud discussion would erupt; and let's be honest, right now my chances of getting out of this one alive were - shall we say - zero . Especially when I noticed Beau eyeing me as I started to argue. So I quickly shut my mouth again, closed my songs and dived into the different layers of energy.

Each healer werewolf handled the use of their gift in different ways. Zaira could see the many strands of energy channels in an enchanting, bright play of colors. Maeryn filtered out the different scent notes and Jordan heard their vibrating tones as if they were music to his ears. Whether it was good or bad melodies depended on the person. To me, on the other hand, the life forces revealed themselves through my sense of touch.

The islander in front of me felt like the smooth surface of the sea. Light waves that touched my fingertips and teasingly tickled me. I recalled all the steps Zaira had taught me. Plucked from my arsenal of memories all the hours she had spent teaching me and all other healer werewolves to use our abilities.

All my childhood years I had lived with the firm belief that our gift was a curse, doomed to be tortured. Hades had brutally ripped our life forces and healing powers from us, draining us energetically as if he were a vampire and our healing powers his vital sustenance. But I was wrong, our abilities are so much more important than letting someone gain strength and being destroyed in the process. So much more valuable to be used just as a torture tool.

I willingly opened up to her. I felt the islander's painful spot immediately. Tempted to pour my healing power into her, I buried a small portion of my essence deep within my heart to hold tight there. All healers needed this safety measure if they didn't want to disintegrate themselves in the process.

It took me a moment to master directing the light and guiding it into her. It wasn't the same bright, radiant light as Zaira's. With the help of omorphia, so-called god flowers, which were endowed with healing powers - far from imagining - things would be much easier. But I didn't carry any with me, so my light was more like a faintly flickering flame from a dying campfire than a vigorously blazing jet of flame.

I pulled the raw shards of her pain away from her, sucking them in, striving to transform them into a warm, harmonious glow.

be gentle You don't have to make an effort, just let it flow. Be patient Georgie, it'll be fine. I heard Zaira's voice in the distance, trying to follow her advice. But the islander's dark, relentless pain, which felt like sharp shards of glass, gradually grew heavier. Sweat trickled down my neck and I clenched my teeth. I can do it!

With an iron will I tried to be sensitive, to absorb the suffering with delicate fingers and breathe warmth into it. But the more I tried, the more the dark stream refused to follow me. Its shards pricked my skin like small, agonizing pinpricks, digging through my insides until I felt like bleeding.

"Enough, Georgie!" Beau's stern voice cut through the dark haze of trance. But the pull was too strong and the black current held me captive. He pierced my stomach like a knife. My hands clenched and I groaned.

"Georgie!" Harder this time. The trance state subsided. That he always had to yell at me like that!

I blinked. "What?!" I shot back, but with far less vigor than I intended. My voice was as thin as ice that threatened to break at any moment. Immediately after that I swayed slightly. I have to say it wasn't one of my best nights out. Alcohol, those heels, devilishly handsome, then a woman half bleeding to death, and then I rigorously demonstrated to Beau what a loser I was in my own species. Great job Georgie. Really great. I could have slapped my forehead.

He released my rigid grip on his hands and removed them from the woman. The flow of their torment was cut short and the torment ebbed away. The bleeding had stopped so far, but the wound was not yet completely closed.

"That is enough. Let's take her to the healer.” He slipped his arms under the islander's body.

I nodded, avoiding Beau's eyes. I couldn't even heal a simple flesh wound.

"Georgie, everything's okay." A loving look glazed over with pain. " Mommy's fine. Don't worry I- Aaaahhhhh! “

I clenched a fist tightly against my stomach, which rebelled at the terrible echo of her voice. In that wound, too, I had failed in the long run.

A low moan broke through the thick layer of the past I lay beneath and demanded my attention. Beau, who had just picked up the woman, studied the islander in his arms closely.

My memories quickly evaporated. This woman moaned softly for the second time, and pressed closer to Beau's chest.

Fingernails dug into my palms and hot, angry fire erupted inside me. Grrr . I was about to stomp past them when I froze. Her eyelids had opened for a brief breath. Stunned, I swiveled my head up at Beau.

How was that possible?

He looked at me with exactly the same surprised look.

"But I thought we were the only ones?" I whispered, slightly breathless, and marveled at the pretty woman's large, round eyes. Well - my nose wrinkled up of its own accord - it wasn't that pretty after all. Quite passable. Actually almost normal. And who liked normal? I mean pfff! come on nobody

"I was thinking the same thing."

Again their songs fluttered. Actually .

I could not believe it. Those eyes were the same color as my own. They were the eyes of a healer werewolf. Purple eyes.

So that meant there were more of us. More of us on these islands.

As the light attracted the moths, my gaze was captured by her wrist. I got sick. Deep nicks showed in her delicate skin.

restraints .

We were hunted.