Page 111 of Cosmic Power

“Come to the front door.”

“Right away.”

A moment later, his Elite Guard appeared in a blur, standing next to him on the front porch. His grey eyes surveyed the area with meticulous detail, looking for the slightest hint of danger. As always, two demon blades hung on the sheaths at his waist, the steel glistening.

“I need you to follow Zamorra’s werewolf.”

Unease flashed across the vampire’s face. “Uh, my Lord— ”

“You don’t have to do anything other than follow,” Luther assured him. “Keep your distance. Do not approach her. Just watch her. Make sure nothing bad happens. If you sense even the slightest hint of danger, call me immediately.”

Axel looked nervously into the dense woods ahead. Luther didn’t blame him for feeling uneasy. Werewolves were notorious for having an extremely short fuse. They didn’t like it when others encroached on their personal space, tried to keep track of them.

If Luther could do it himself, he would. He didn’t like having to command another to watch after her instead. It grated on his nerves.

“Yes, my Lord,” Axel eventually said, bowing slightly.

“Remember, just surveillance,” Luther warned. “Give her enough space. Do not do anything threatening.”

Axel nodded and blurred away.

Luther stared at the forest for another few seconds before turning around, heading back inside. He glanced at his watch. 6:09pm. He pursed his lips. He was hoping to be heading back to Australia by now. But that would have to wait. He wasn’t leaving without Zamorra.

What if she didn’t want to come back with him?

He shut that thought down instantly. He wouldn’t give her a choice. After everything he went through to get her back, he refused to leave her behind. She would just have to deal with it.

Locking his anxiety away, Luther blurred through Zvetari’s mansion, stopping when he reached the room that acted as the med bay. He pushed the swinging double doors open and strolled inside.

The first thing that hit him was the smell; an overpowering mixture of cleaning agents, antiseptic and disinfectant chemicals that made his nose wrinkle. The sterile environment was the last place he wanted to be, but he needed to check in on Roman.

The big, blonde-haired vampire lay deathly still on one of the hospital beds at the far end of the room. Half his face was still missing. His skin was pale—eerily pale. Vampires were pale to begin with, but he was ghostly white. An IV was in his arm, pumping blood into his system since his mouth was virtually gone.

Luther was beyond shocked when he first saw him. He had no idea how he was even still alive. Something that could cause that much damage to him should have killed him. And yet, here he was. Still holding on.

Luther was glad.

Margaret sat at Roman’s side, a book in hand, reading to him like a mother would to her sick child. Her eyes darted up when he approached. She placed a bookmark in between the pages and laid the book down, taking off her glasses.

“Why do you still insist on wearing those?” Luther asked, stopping at the foot of the bed. “Your eyesight is just as good as mine.”

She shrugged a shoulder. “Habit, I guess. Sometimes it’s a hard thing to break.” She blew out a breath, a sad look crossing her face. “Do you think he’ll be okay?”

Luther wasn’t sure. And he wasn’t the type to give false hope. “Only time will tell.”

“He’s had nearly forty pints of blood and he still hasn’t woken. His face hasn’t healed. I’m afraid—” she choked back a sob, tears spilling from her eyes.

Luther put a hand on her shoulder. “He’s tough. Look at all he’s endured. And he’s still here, holding on. He’s a fighter. He won’t give up easily. And we’re going to do everything we can for him.”

“I know,” Margaret sniffed, wiping the tears away. “How’s Zamorra going? I haven’t had a chance to see her yet.”

No one had. After they’d returned through the portal and her werewolf relinquished control back to her, it had taken a while for her to process everything that happened. Luther limited her interactions, demanding she rest first before seeing others. Then when his makerrequestedshe speak with the fae to try and gather as much information about them as she could, she jumped at the chance.

Luther avoided Margaret’s prying eyes, giving Roman one more look over before turning away, heading for the door. “She’s fine.”

“Uh-huh,” she sang, following after him. “What happened?”

Luther didn’t want to talk about it. Margaret sensed that, and she didn’t care. She blurred in front of him, making him stop and huff in annoyance. “What’s going on?” she pushed.

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