Page 107 of Alpha Power

"It's in the basement," Maddox replied, slurping a blood bag. His plate still had food on it, but he seemed content with his little blood snack.

"I'll take you down there one time, Z," Darius interjected, reaching forward to take a slice of pizza from her plate. It was the last one left on the table and Darius honed in on it like a starving man.

Zamorra's body heated and immediately locked in place, her werewolf taking complete control of her. A snarl ripped from her lips as her arm shot out and slammed Darius' hand down before he could touch her food. But it wasn't Zamorra's arm anymore. It was her werewolf's. Her sharp, six-inch claws dug deep into the mahogany table and caged the vampire’s hand in as silver fur cascaded up her arm. Heat flared from her eyes, a clear indication that they were no longer her own and a threatening growl rippled from her chest.

Silence quickly followed. No one moved an inch. Darius was pale - well, paler than usual - and his eyes were wide open in shock. His fellow Elite Guards looked equally as shocked, their eyes darting between them in confusion.

Luther paused slightly, a frown on his face before he raised the wrist in his hands to his lips again and sunk his fangs deep into the human’s flesh.

Her eyes connected with his as the human moaned and she couldn't stop her upper lip from curling back. Oh yeah. He wasdefinitelydoing it on purpose. But she wouldn't rise to the bait.

"Uh, Z," Darius said cautiously as he tried to take his hand back.

Her head snapped to the movement and she had to work hard not to let another growl slip from her lips. Instead, she tugged on the connection she shared with her werewolf and her arm shifted back to her own.

Zamorra withdrew her hand and cleared her throat, giving Darius an awkward smile. "Sorry. Uhm, don't take food from my plate. Shifters don't like to share."

Darius massaged his hand slowly, holding it tightly to his chest. "Yeah, kinda got that."

Void scoffed and popped a fry into his mouth. "I coulda told you that."

"Anyway." Zamorra glared at her uncle, the universal sign to shut the hell up and tried desperately to change the subject. "How'd Kylo die?"

"Throat was slit," Roman grunted.

"That's putting it mildly," Axel's stone-cold voice inputted. "His head was barely attached to his body."

Zamorra wrinkled her nose. "Lovely. Where'd ya end up finding him?"

"He was left behind an abandoned beach house on the coastline. Only protected by routine Glamours. Nothing distinctive."

"Did he have anything useful on him?"

Roman shook his head. "Just the clothes on his back. His phone and wallet were missing."

"Probably taken by whoever killed him." Axel wiped his mouth with a napkin and placed it on top of his plate. He pushed it forward. "I've got someone combing through footage from around the area where he was found, in case something useful was caught on camera."

That was smart. Maybe they would get a glimpse of someone with Kylo and finally have a decent lead.

A soft thump made Zamorra swivel in her seat. One of the BDs had collapsed to the ground in total bliss. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head as a soft sigh left her lips. Her skin was eerily pale. Blood trickled from the open puncture wounds on her wrist and formed a small puddle on the ground.

"See to it she's taken care of," Luther instructed, waving a hand at the unconscious woman at his feet.

The two other BDs bowed reverently before they worked together to pick up their friend and promptly left the room.

Luther opened his mouth, ready to bark another order, when Margaret blurred to his side carrying a glass of scotch in her hands.

"Here you are, my Lord." Margaret placed the glass on the table. Her eyes flicked down to the blood on the floor and she pursed her lips.

Margaret hated mess. Any type of uncleanliness grated on the vampire’s nerves. Zamorra thought she had a touch of OCD, with the way she constantly kept reprimanding her for bringing a speck of dirt into the house.

Luther smiled fondly as he picked up the glass and brought it to his lips. "Grazie, Margherita."

Affection glazed in Margaret's eyes. "Mio piacene, mio signore."She bowed her head and blurred away, returning a moment later to clean the blood off the floor.

"So, what happens now?" Zamorra asked, reaching forward for a slice of chocolate mud cake.

Chocolate was one of her weaknesses and all-time favourite loves. She took a big bite, savouring the rich, chocolatey goodness that rolled over her tongue.

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