Page 47 of Cosmic Power

A deep, throaty laugh made her head snap up and she locked eyes with Barnabas sitting on his golden throne.

“Mighty impressive there, youngin. I’m going to guess Orion showed you that little trick.”

Zamorra narrowed her eyes and got to her feet, standing tall. “Why would you think that?”

“Because who do you think taught him?” he winked.

She pursed her lips in distaste. The idea of doinganythingthat asshole could do made her stomach lurch.

“It’s good to see he put some of his training to use. I had already planned to kill Kronan after his lapse of control in your cell, but that…that was a hell of a lot better than what I had planned for him,” he laughed. “This time we’re going to do werewolf vs werewolf. Elijah, you’re up.”

A tall African American man stepped forward. He had close-cropped black hair, deep green eyes and a set of the straightest, whitest teeth Zamorra had ever seen. She bet he could be a model for Colgate with that million-dollar smile.

Zamorra cracked her neck and walked ahead, meeting him in the centre of the blue mat. The truth was, she hated doing this. She felt like she was dancing to Barnabas’ tune, like she was one of his lackeys, eager to follow his every command. But she knew that even if she chose not to fight, his men still would. She could either sit back and let them pummel her or she could take the fight to them and try to take down as many of the fuckers as she could.

Her gaze trailed over the ten shifters standing off to the side, watching her with interest. Lust burned in their eyes and it made her wonder how many other female werewolf shifters were here. Surely she wasn’t the only one.

As if he had read her mind, Barnabas waved a hand regally through the air and one of the double doors leading into the large gothic-style building beside her opened, revealing three females. The first word that came to mind when she saw them was ‘soft’. That’s what they looked like. Soft, weak, delicate. Like pretty little princesses who’d never had a hard day in their lives.

Zamorra knew she shouldn’t judge. Her parents taught her to never judge a book by its cover. But as she studied them, running her eyes over every inch of their pale skin, she couldn’t help it. Couldn’t help that to her, they seemed like docile little dolls.

Dressed in floor-length white tunics, they made their way over to Barnabas and sat at his feet. They ran their hands up and down his legs, pressed their bodies into his and plastered themselves to him, as if they couldn’t get close enough.

Zamorra wanted to vomit.

She was also wracked with confusion. Her mother always told her how horrible females were treated within a pack. Yet, as she stared at the females basically dry humping Barnabas, she couldn’t help but think the opposite. They didn’t look like they were treated badly. If anything, they looked like they were happy. In love. Or maybe it was all for show. Zamorra couldn’t say.

“Are you ready?” Elijah’s deep voice drew her back to the matter at hand and she locked eyes with him.

“Are you?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.

Dark brown fur slowly sprouted over his skin as his eyes blazed gold. “I won’t be as easy to take down as Kronan,” he said as his body grew in size, his werewolf taking control of his body bit by bit. First his legs, then his arms, stomach and chest, until all that remained was Elijah’s head. “Good luck. My were will not go easy on you,” he smirked. Then he was gone and in his place, snarling down at her, was a giant brown werewolf, easily nine-feet tall and riddled with power and muscle.

Excitement blazed through her like an erupting volcano. For the first time since her connection with her werewolf had returned, Zamorra felt genuine happiness from the entity. She took a deep breath in and lowered the barriers in her mind, relinquishing complete control.

Ancient magic flooded her body and her werewolf exploded out of her skin like a bomb, her mouth wide open as a mighty roar ripped from her lips.

Standing tall, her enormous body was covered head to toe in thick silver fur. Corded, powerful muscles layered every inch of her skin, all of them now quadruple their original size. Her silver eyes blazed brighter than the sun as she pulled back her upper lip and snarled deep in her throat, revealing razor-sharp canines at least five inches long.

The two werewolves stared at one another, sizing each other up, trying to figure out who stood where on the dominance and power scale.

She knew he was a high-level Beta, which automatically put her ahead, but she didn’t think he would be easy to take down. She sensed a deep darkness in his mind. A feral rage that would make him a worthy opponent, a true challenge.

She smiled. She liked a challenge.

The brown werewolf moved first. He charged her and she met him head on. Their bodies collided and they tore into each other with unbelievable savagery. It was all teeth and claws, blood and fury.

She had been locked away for days, forced to sit back and watch through Zamorra’s eyes as she was hurt, tormented. As her heart splintered from the knowledge that Orion wasn’t their father. She could do nothing to help her, nothing to comfort her, nothing to save her. She had so much pent-up rage inside her that it was almost easy to block out the pain and focus on all that anger.

With a snarl, she latched onto his arm with her teeth and locked her jaw, biting hard enough to shatter his bone.

The brown werewolf howled and pummelled her face with his free hand, ramming a closed fist into her cheek over and over, trying to get her to let go.

She didn’t. She bit down harder, the taste of his blood fuelling her rage and bloodlust.

Hot, blinding pain lanced her side and she roared in agony, dropping the brown werewolf’s arm instantly. She looked down to see his clawed hand rammed inside her body. Blood stained her silver fur and dripped down her side. He ripped out his hand, taking a chunk of her fur and flesh right along with him.

She howled, a deep cry that held a magnitude of pain. She unleashed a wave of her dominance, so thick and so powerful it knocked the brown werewolf off his feet and sent him flying into the air. She gripped her side as she dropped to one knee. Blood dripped through her clawed fingers and she hissed, applying pressure.

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