Page 24 of Cosmic Power

Fuck. She couldn’t even remember the last time she ate and now that she was staring at a plate full of food, her hunger burned, her appetite turning ravenous.

“Smells good, doesn’t it?” Barnabas lifted the tray, taking a big whiff. “Sean is quite the chef.”

All Zamorra wanted to do was reach over and scoff the entire thing down. But she remained still, not letting Barnabas see how much she was dying for that food.

“You must be starved. It’s been days since you last ate.” He waved it in front of her and her stomach rumbled. He laughed. “Oh yes. You’re hungry, alright.”

He offered it to her and she eyed him suspiciously.

“No games,” he said, nodding at the food. “Can’t have you dying of starvation. Not when I have such big plans for you.”

A wave of fury crashed through her. Who the fuck did he think he was? Making plans for her? “What plans?” she seethed.

“You’ll see. Eat, eat.” He pushed the food into her hands and she took it.

As much as she hated doing anything the bastard wanted, she knew that she’d need her strength if she were to attempt escape. Trying to fight on an empty stomach would not be a good idea.

She scoffed it down quickly, barely taking the time to chew as she stuffed her mouth full of food. She stifled a moan of delight. She wasn’t prepared to give Barnabas an ounce of satisfaction.

In less than a minute she was licking the plate clean, desperate for more.

Barnabas laughed. “Unfortunately for you youngin, that’s all for now. Kronan.” He nodded to the empty plate in her hands and the werewolf shifter guarding the door moved forward, preparing to take it.

“Allow me.” Zamorra flung the plate like a frisbee, hitting the shifter on the bridge of his nose.

“Ugh, fuck!” he cursed, gripping his now-bleeding nose.

“Oooo, ten points,” Zamorra laughed, pumping the air with her fist.

“You fucking bitch! I’m gonna—”

“Kronan.” Barnabas held up his hand, stopping the shifter dead in his tracks as he stepped towards Zamorra in anger. “Pick up the plate and return to your post.”

“Yeah, Krowy. Off ya go. Back in position,” Zamorra sang, shooing him off.

Kronan growled, his eyes flashing gold and his body shaking with anger. Fur sprouted over his arms, his werewolf fighting for supremacy.

“Uh oh, someone can’t hold their load,” Zamorra tutted and Kronan’s restraint snapped.

His werewolf exploded from his body, landing in a crouch and unleashing an earth-shattering roar.

Zamorra stared, bored. The black werewolf in front of her may be close to seven feet tall and riddled with muscle, but she wasn’t scared. Even without her werewolf, Zamorra sensed he was a low-level Beta. She might not have access to her werewolf right now, but Alpha power ran through her veins and fuelled her soul. She couldn’t be intimidated by a creature weaker than her—even if she was in human form.

“Seriously, Barney? You talk smack about my fighting skills and yet your men can’t even maintain control over their were?” Zamorra scoffed, shaking her head in disappointment. “Who’s mediocre now?”

Barnabas glowered and got to his feet. He clearly didn’t like being spoken to in such a way, which made it all the more thrilling. It was obvious by the way his face turned red, rays of anger shooting out of his silver eyes.

Zamorra didn’t care. She wasn’t afraid to speak her mind. It was all true.

He turned that fiery gaze on the black werewolf slowly stalking towards her and the werewolf stopped dead in his tracks, a whimper escaping his lips. His shifted form fell away and Kronan returned, head lowered in submission.

“Get out of my sight before you embarrass me further,” Barnabas hissed furiously.

Kronan nodded, shame on his face, and stood and walked out of the cell. Another shifter took his place, guarding the door as he left.

Barnabas returned to his seat and shoved a strand of his silver hair out of his face in frustration.

Zamorra smiled. “Hopefully this guy can keep his shit together, hey Barney?” she winked.

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