Page 81 of Cosmic Power

Black spots danced in her eyes. Her lungs burned. She was seconds away from passing out. Or dying. She wasn’t sure which. And she wasn’t sure if she cared anymore.

He lowered his hand and the pressure eased. She gasped loudly, sucking in as much air as she could take in one hit, the feeling of oxygen returning to her body making her sag in relief.

“Ready to answer my question yet?”

She panted heavily, still trying to catch her breath. “Which…which question was that again? I forgot. I’ve got the memory of a bloody goldfish.”

He gritted his teeth, his purple eyes narrowed into slits. He raised a hand again and slowly balled it into a fist. Pressure squeezed her brain, making her eyes pop wide. A pain-filled screech left her lips. She screamed and screamed, her body flailing so much the restraints cut into her skin, making her wrists and ankles bleed. It was like someone had her brain gripped in their hands and they were squeezing and squeezing, squishing it into a tiny ball. Blood seeped out of her eyes, ears, nose and mouth, dripping down her face as the vice-grip hold tightened even more.

Even though her connection with her werewolf was blocked, Zamorra could feel the pain she was in, too. She felt the agony she was experiencing at having this intrusive power slammed into her head.

The Gold King unclenched his fist and the pressure eased, making her groan in relief. Her brain still hurt like a motherfucker, like a deep bruise on her skin (except inside her head), but she was thankful the pain was more of a light thrum as opposed to the most excruciating thing she had ever experienced.

“Any longer and you would be dead,” he said, looking down at her with an air of arrogance.

“I believe ya,” she breathed heavily, her heart beating a million miles an hour. She could hear it thump in her chest, could feel it in her ears.

“And yet, you still will not talk?”

“Oh, I’ll talk. I just won’t say what you wanna hear.” Her body ached beyond belief, pain flaring from nearly every inch of her. Including her damn brain. “Just outta curiosity—coz I’m a Nosy Nelly and all—how the fuck do you do that?”

“Practice and power.” He held a hand out like one would do for a handshake and the knife embedded deep into her shoulder shot out of her body, flying towards him. The hilt landed in his palm and he gripped it tightly.

She hissed, baring her teeth. “Ow! A little warning next time. Fucking hell.”

Power pulsed from his monstrous body. He blinked in front of her and gripped the sides of her mouth with his thumb and forefinger, forcing it wide open. He placed the tip of the blade against her tongue, glaring into her eyes. “One more disrespectful word and I will cut out your tongue.”

She spoke—or tried to. The words came out in an incomprehensible, jumbled mess.

He removed the knife and leaned in, turning his head so his pointed ear was near her lips. He loosened his grip slightly. “What was that?” he whispered.

She licked her lips. “I said, ‘How will I answer your questions if you cut my tongue out?’”. She laughed and he shoved her face away roughly, anger vibrating from his body.

Oh, she was pissing him off.

Good.

“Enough games,” he snapped, his power flooding the air. Darkness rolled over her skin, making her shiver. “Tell me what I want to know, or I will cut out your eyes and make you eat them.”

Disgust zinged through her, making her scrunch up her nose. “Ew, that’s just nasty.”

“Then you best start talking, otherwise it will become your reality.”

“You know, all this hostility, it really isn’t good for you,” she said, tugging on her restraints. “It’s bad for the heart. And the soul.”

“I do not have a soul.”

She stilled, eyeing him with furrowed brows. “Every living thing has a soul.”

A dark smile lit his face. “Not the fae. Souls are a weakness, made to make you feel compassion and empathy. Love and affection. Feelings that do nothing but hold you back from your true potential. A soul is a burden, and once you’re rid of it”—he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath in—“it’s one of the most freeing things one can experience.”

Zamorra swallowed, unease fluttering through her. A being without a soul was capable of doing anything. They didn’t have a sense of right or wrong, weren’t held back by feelings or emotions. They didn’t have a conscience that told them what they were doing was bad. They were psychopaths. And she was in a world full of them.

Greaaaaaat.

“Well, that’s just the cherry on top of a shitty cake, isn’t it?” She tugged on her restraints with renewed vigour, ignoring the pain shooting up her arms and legs from the bonds rubbing against her raw skin.

The Gold King levitated the blade in the air with a lazy wave of his hand. He flicked his wrist, sending it flying right for her, straight towards her face. She shrieked, flinching back and closing her eyes. When there was no pain, she peeked with one eye, afraid of what she might see. The tip of the blade hovered a hair’s width away from her eye.

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