Page 91 of Alpha Power

Two vampires, one male, one female were trying to keep Void distracted while the third vampire circled him slowly, attempting to find an opening in his defence. Snarling, fangs descended and faces contorted in anger, they swiped their claws and snapped their teeth, hungry for a taste of her uncle's blood.

Not on her fucking watch.

Zamorra snuck up behind the third vampire and delivered a swift kick to his balls with a grunt. A mixture of a whimper, groan and cry escaped his lips as the vampire crumbled to his knees and she actually felt a little bad about it. Stepping forward she grasped his head in both hands and twisted sharply, a loud crack echoing all around them as she broke his neck. She let go and he collapsed to the ground, effectively out for the count until he healed.

Her body lurched to the left, narrowly missing Vampire Zorro's sharp-edged sword.

Shit. Thank you.

He snarled in frustration and swung the blade again, aiming for her head.

Her werewolf immediately took control and flattened Zamorra to the ground, her legs crumbling from beneath her like they could no longer hold her weight. Her face smashed into the concrete hard enough to make her lip split, but that was better than losing her head.

With a twirl of his wrist Zorro spun his sword and grasped the hilt with both hands, driving it down towards the back of her neck.

Strong hands wrapped around her ankles and pulled sharply, moving her out of the path of that ghastly sword just in the nick of time. It clanged against the ground, sparks igniting from the hard impact of metal on asphalt.

Zamorra quickly looked over her shoulder, Void giving her a quick wink before he turned and caught a fist coming right for his face. He snarled, eyes blazing bright gold and twisted sharply, snapping the bone in the vampire’s wrist. She cried out in pain and Void headbutted her right in the nose. It cracked, blood spurting out like an overflowing faucet.

Zamorra rolled onto her back and jumped to her feet. Every muscle in her body tensed as Vampire Zorro reached for a dagger at his waist and pulled it free, twirling it between his long fingers. He flipped it into the air and caught it tightly, curling back his upper lip.

Her gaze tracked over those two razor sharp blades of steel, his smouldering red eyes and long pointy fangs. Her entire focus was on him, trying to figure out what his next move would be and anticipate it. Which is why she didn't notice the vampire creeping up behind her. And neither did her werewolf.

A clawed hand swiftly raked down her back, tearing straight through her shirt and cutting deeply into her flesh. Pain. Searing hot pain burned through every nerve inside her and she collapsed to her knees, screaming out in agony. She hunched forward, palms bracing on the ground as she breathed in sharply. "Fuck."

A powerful kick to the side sent her hurtling through the air and smashing into the brick wall adjacent from Club X. Her body crumbled, several bones breaking all at once from the harsh impact. A leg, wrist, three fingers and a couple of ribs.

Her vision blackened and panic quickly took hold. Her werewolf roared and tried to reach for control entirely and shift, but it was too late. She was vaguely aware of the events unfolding right before her eyes as she began to slip into unconsciousness. Void screaming at the top of his lungs, a loud clash of metal on metal, a group surrounding her like a pack of wolves. And then, nothing but darkness.

Hushed voices reached Zamorra's ears as she slowly started to come to, the familiar sounds helping to drag her out of unconsciousness.

Her eyelids were heavy, bright white lights blinding her momentarily when she tried to open them. She felt tired, confused and exhausted all at the same time. Her head pounded like a jackhammer as a terrible ache fluttered through every muscle in her body.

A rich, familiar scent surrounded her like a cocoon, helping to soothe the rising panic she felt in her chest and quell the fear coursing through her veins. Zamorra wasn't sure where she was, but she felt safe. Somehow, sheknewshe was safe.

She lay flat on a king size bed with comfortable pillows and luxurious Egyptian cotton sheets, in a room she had never seen before. It was a large space, roughly three times the size of her own bedroom and had an assortment of weapons hanging from its dark walls like ornamental decorations.

Axes, swords, daggers, throwing stars, maces, sickles, staffs, bow and arrows - every bit of available space surrounding the double oak doors in front of her was completely covered in these gorgeous pieces of steel. She felt as though she was in an intense war room of some kind, like a lethal, dangerous commander and his army was about to bust in and tell them they were all about to go to war.

There was a massive golden shield with a plate of armour hanging right beside it on the wall to her left and a magnificent, truly terrifying 50 inch steel sword. It hung beautifully in the middle of the wall like some prized possession, something to be treasured and treated with respect at all costs.

It's golden pommel sparkled against the bright lights dangling from the ceiling, a shiny red jewel embedded snugly in its centre and an intricately stitched leather-bound hilt. It was the most beautifully crafted piece of weaponry Zamorra had ever laid eyes on, and she was dying to run her hands all over it, to soak up all that power running through its blade.

The magic ingrained deep within was calling to her like a seductress trying to tempt her, trying to corrupt her. Part of her was ready to just give in but she had a feeling that was part of the allure.

An image of Luther brandishing that mighty sword flashed through her mind. Him, dressed head to toe in gladiatorial armour, staring down his opponent with unwavering confidence. She would have loved to see him in action back in the day. She had a feeling he would have been truly transcendent to watch, like a God fighting amongst mere mortals in the sand.

"All I'm saying is, if I were an alien, I would totally do it."

Her gaze swept across the room, searching for that light, childlike voice.

Darius had his back to her, leaning comfortably in a dark leather chair, his feet propped up against the wall in between a dagger and a staff, hands clasped behind his head.

"Darius-"

"No, seriously. Just, hear me out for a sec." He pushed off the wall and spun, turning to face Void who sat next to the bed massaging his temples.

Neither noticed that she was now awake, Void with his eyes closed and face tense while Darius stared at him pointedly, like their conversation was of the utmost importance.

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