Page 135 of Alpha Power

The Concealing Enchantment they had paid a small fortune for was doing exactly what they needed and relief flowed through her body. At least their daughter would survive. That was the most important thing. Theonlyimportant thing.

Orion and Adele locked eyes as more blows rained down on the door protecting them, inching closer and clasping their hands tightly together.

"We should have told her the truth," Adele quivered.

Orion tucked a lock of her brown hair behind her ear, smiling sadly. "I know," he whispered softly.

Their enemies broke through the last remaining barrier between them, shattering the door into a million tiny pieces. Simultaneously their heads snapped to the large, imposing figure who barrelled his way through.

Orion rose and stood protectively over his mate, his hands exploding into the impressive, razor-sharp claws of his werewolf. Black fur cascaded up his arms to his shoulders and a deep, guttural growl vibrated from the centre of his muscular chest, causing the ground to shake beneath their feet.

He would fight until his last dying breath. He would do whatever he could to try and save his mate. He would give his life, his everything, to save her from the pain and suffering he knew was coming.

"Barnabas," Orion snarled, baring his canines.

Barnabas stepped into the room and a wicked smile curved on his lips, his silver eyes glittering with pure evil.

He inhaled deeply, a satisfied groan rumbling from his mouth. "Finally."

Zamorra jolted upright, her heart pounding in her chest and pulse racing so fast, like she'd just run a 100km marathon. Her clothes were drenched in sweat, her hair sticking to the sides of her face and her breathing erratic, coming out in short, quick pants.

"Oh, God," she groaned.

Tears rolled down her cheeks and she squeezed her eyes shut. The worst night of her life just flashed before her eyes and her heart ached, a little bit of her soul dying all over again.

Meeting Barnabas, hearing his voice had dredged up that horrifying memory from her subconscious, one she tried actively to keep out of her mind. Along with the gut-wrenching feelings that came with it. Shehatedthinking about that night.

Her werewolf sent a burst of love and affection through their bond, trying as hard as she could to help soothe the agony taking over Zamorra's mind and body.

Are you alright?She asked softly.

Zamorra opened her eyes and inhaled deeply.Not really. Did you see it too?

Yes. It was... strange, wasn't it?

You don't say,Zamorra replied ironically.

Whenever she dreamed of her parents, their death, it was always the same. She relived it like it was happening all over again, as if she were still a young, frightened 16-year-old girl, but this time was different. She witnessed the events unfold like a bird from above, watching everything that happened from a different perspective than the one she experienced firsthand. It was totally surreal. Downright freakish. It made no sense to her, how she could still feel all that fear, anguish, confusion, and yet she wasn't in her body. Wasn't herself. More like a ghost.

Turns out, she had blocked out more of that night than she realised. She remembered her mother dragging her from the bed, her father’s heart-warming last words, but not her mother’s comment about 'the truth.' All she wanted to do was forget about the horrible dream and yet, she couldn't help but replay her mother’s words, over and over again.

More than anything I wish I had been honest with you. I wish I had told you the truth about-

About what? What 'truth' was her mother referring to? Her whole life she thought her parents had always told her the truth and were always honest with her. But they weren't. They were hiding something from her. Something important. Vital. They took that secret to their grave and now, she might never know.

Zamorra flung her legs off the bed and stood. She made her way over to the double doors, her knees wobbling with each step. She felt weak, like all the energy had been drained from her body which made no sense considering she'd just been asleep for God knows how long.

She caught a glimpse of her reflection in Luther's mighty sword hanging from the wall and she stilled. She was back. Her long hair was back to the silver colour she'd actually come to miss. That beautiful shade of green in her eyes was gone and those subtle differences made to her facial features vanished from sight. The Illusion spell was finally over and her mind instantly went to Luther. To what they had gotten up to before he left.

Had he returned yet? Fuck, she hoped he had. She needed to finish what they started. Her body was aching for him, for the closeness they shared. She needed to feel that again. She needed… him.

Zamorra frowned. It had been alongtime since she needed anybody. She stopped depending on people after her parents were murdered, stopped getting close to others because she couldn't stand the idea of losing someone else she loved. How could she let herself grow so attached to another person?

Her stomach rumbled loudly and hunger pains flared in her belly. She needed food, desperately.

The mansion was eerily quiet as she walked through Luther's wing and towards the main floor. There wasn't a single soul in sight, which Zamorra found odd. She was used to seeing vampire soldiers in every hallway, lurking in the corridors. Granted most of them ignored her or chucked evil, angry glances her way but still, she saw them. Skulking like thieves in the night with their blazing red eyes and dark, dangerous presence.

"Hellooooooooooo?" She called out, walking down the last flight of stairs and stepping into the foyer. "Anybody here? Margaret? Darius? Muscles?"

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