Page 70 of Cosmic Power

The shock wore off and Mathias roared, anger and pain in his earth-shattering cry. He charged forward, thick silver fur spilling out over his skin as he called on the power of his werewolf. Braeden followed. The other shifters in the room took their cue from the high-level Beta and charged as well, running towards the invaders with malice and hatred.

The creatures dressed in silver and bronze armour disappeared. One moment they were there, the next they were gone—as if they just blinked out of existence. Then they reappeared, spread out in the room, and attacked all at once. They swung their mighty swords, carving into bodies and cutting off limbs while blinking in and out of view, teleporting with unbelievable swiftness to attack and then vanish before the shifters could retaliate.

Even with her werewolf’s power pumping through her veins, Zamorra could hardly keep up with them, her silver eyes darting left and right, up and down, trying to keep them in her sight. They moved so quickly, with such precision, you just knew this wasn’t the first time they had unleashed this type of deadly attack.

Shifters dropped like flies. Within minutes, over half of the pack lay dead in pools of their own blood, limbs strewn across the ground. Magic hummed in the air and werewolves burst into the action. It was as if they knew their human sides just weren’t quick enough to battle these creatures, and they demanded supremacy. A mixture of different coloured fur—black, grey, red, brown—blurred around the room as they tried to go on the offensive. To go from prey to predator.

Mathias and Braeden stood back to back, silver fur well over half their bodies and hands replaced with sharp, six-inch claws. They fought in unison, each one blocking and attacking while keeping a close eye on the other. Their bonds with the entities in their bodies were strong. Strong enough that they were able to hold their own without giving up complete control.

The four creatures dressed in gold stood in front of the portal, watching the events unfold with critical expressions, hands resting comfortably on their swords. They didn’t make a single move to help, like they were content to just stand back and watch.

Growls and snarls echoed around Zamorra as she tugged on her restraints. Pain shot through the still-bleeding wound in her stomach and she hissed through it, determined not to let it bring her down. She needed to get out—and get out now!

Give me everything you have, she commanded her werewolf.

Her back arched as a torrent of power unleashed in her body, sailing through her and lighting up her every nerve. Her eyes blazed silver, so hot and so bright she thought they might burn through her face.

It still wasn’t enough. Whatever spell work was laced into these chairs would not allow escape.

The mage,her werewolf snarled.

Zamorra’s head snapped to Iris, who stayed huddled in a corner behind a stack of chairs. Her pale face watched the creatures carve into the werewolves, her lips trembling. She was frozen in fear, unable to move.

“Iris!” she bellowed, still pulling on her bonds.

The light mage didn’t respond. She couldn’t hear Zamorra over the cries and screams of battle.

“Fucking hell!” Zamorra cursed loudly. Her wrists and ankles burned, her skin peeling off her bones from how hard she was trying to get free, but she didn’t stop. This was life or death. Do or die.

Her eyes flicked to Lilith who, despite her own injuries, was trying to break free as well. Even though Daeva’s throat was slit and he had hole in his abdomen, he too tugged and pulled. Gabriel and Benjamin weren’t moving. She feared they were already dead.

One of the creatures dressed in the bronze armour blinked in front of her, bloody sword in hand. She gasped and reared back in shock.

Fuck.

His purple eyes glowed and when he smiled sadistically, Zamorra glimpsed tiny fangs in his mouth. His white hair was stained with blood, his bronze armour drenched with guts and brain matter. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. He slowly raised his sword and pointed the tip right at her chest.

Her werewolf roared and pushed for the shift. Her body shook with so much power and adrenaline, her werewolf trying to take control. She pushed against her skin and Zamorra felt like she was going to be torn in two.

The creature cocked his head, licking his lips. “Beg for your life,” he said softly, his voice mesmerisingly beautiful, like a siren’s song.

Zamorra bared her teeth. “Never,” she snarled.

He chuckled and raised his sword.

Zamorra stared him down. She would not cower. She would look him in the eyes as he killed her.

Dark and light magic tainted the air as dozens of red and white transportation portals appeared, spread out throughout the room. Battle cries rang through the air as a mix of shifters, demons, vampires and mages came barrelling through, jumping into the fight. The creature swung his sword, aiming for her head. A transportation portal opened right next to Zamorra. A figure emerged so fast she barely saw it as another sword equally colossal and terrifying clashed with the creature’s, the piercing sound of metal on metal echoing in her ears.

Luther.

Zamorra’s heart thumped at the mere sight of him. The new creatures might have been the most beautiful, exotic beings she’d ever seen, but they didn’t hold a candle compared to him. He was glorious. Six-and-a-half feet of pure muscle and strength, and absolutely brimming with power. It pulsed from him with enough force to stifle the air.

Red eyes burning in fury, Luther gripped his sword tightly and pushed, forcing the bronze-armoured creature to stumble back in shock.

Luther didn’t give him a moment to recuperate. He attacked viciously, swinging left and right, jabbing up and down, moving in a motion that was almost too quick to track. The creature blocked, parrying blow after blow, their swords meeting in a powerful clash of sparks as they moved further and further away from her.

The bronze-armoured creature feigned left and slashed right. Luther parried and returned with his own strike before blurring behind him and cutting his head clean off, not an ounce of hesitation in his attack. He was so fast that Zamorra didn’t even see him move. It was as if, like these creatures, he could appear and disappear at will. Though she knew that wasn’t true. He could just move really fucking quickly.

---