Page 79 of Cosmic Power

Zamorra tried to tap into her werewolf’s power, but as expected, nothing happened. The collar around her throat was blocking her connection to her werewolf.

“Lady Luck, you’re a real fucking bitch,” she hissed, tugging on her restraints.

How was it possible she’d been kidnappedtwicein the span of two weeks?Seriously. Like, what the fuck?

Only she would have such rotten fucking luck.

She tugged harder and harder, growling in frustration when she couldn’t move an inch. Flashbacks of her being strapped to the spelled chair in Barnabas’ territory, having her blood drained out of her, streaked through her mind, making her whole body shake. Panic gripped her chest. It became hard to breathe and she gasped, gulping in small amounts of air.

Okay, take a deep breath. Calm down.

She was no good to herself if she was a hysterical mess. She had to get her shit under control super fucking quickly.

Movement in her peripheral vision made her swivel her head from side to side, trying to get a glimpse of who was creeping up behind her. Zamorra had a hard time telling these creatures apart. They all looked remarkably similar—only slight differences in their facial features and builds—but she would know who this one was, even without the gold crown on his head.

He was dripping with power. It stretched out around him like a protective shield, vibrating with darkness, a deeply profound evil that made her bones tremble and fear curl down her spine.

Power was something she had always been attracted to. It excited her. Made her heart race and her body tingle. As an Alpha werewolf, it was in her blood. Ingrained in her DNA. Dominance and power were something she craved on a fundamental level.

But the power this creature had humming in his veins was something so sinister, so twisted, she couldn’t help but cringe back as he rounded the side and came to a stop right in front of her.

He wore stylish gold dress robes, like one would wear to some high-profile event where only the most elite, most powerful beings, would attend. They had a real otherworldly design, which Zamorra shouldn’t have been surprised by considering she was in a completely different world. His white hair and beautiful symmetrical face gave off a real Geralt of Rivia vibe that she totally would have dug if it wasn’t for the fact that he oozed evil and darkness.

“What’s your name?” the Gold King asked, his voice dark and sinfully powerful.

She clenched her fists and gave the restraints another tug. “Zamorra.”

He ran his tongue over his teeth. “Zamorra,” he repeated, smacking his lips like he was tasting her name. He touched a strand of her silver hair, rubbing it lightly between his fingertips. “Am I to assume you’re in some way related to Vargas?”

“Apparently,” she grunted, tugging again. She still wasn’t sure if she believed it or not, even though she saw with her own eyes what happened when her blood touched the artefact. “And you are?”

His sparkling purple eyes ran over her face slowly as he let her hair fall away. “You can call me King.”

She snorted. “King don’t got a name?”

“Not one you’re worthy of speaking.”

Huffing out a breath, she tried to kick her legs free. “That was rude as hell. How do you know what I’m worthy of? You don’t even know me.”

“I know enough,” he said absently, circling her slowly.

She refused to show discomfort, weakness. She kept her head forward, eyes locked on the beautiful piece of artwork hanging on the wall in front of her, even though every fibre of her being wanted to track the dangerous predator walking behind her.

“I know that although royal blood flows through your veins, you act like a peasant, speaking foul words and dressing like aharlexin.”

Zamorra frowned. “A what?”

“I do not know another term for the word that you would understand. You dress provocatively. Your clothes are tight and show too much skin.”

She glanced down at her body. She was wearing a pair of black pants and a long-sleeved V-neck shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows.

“Are you-are you shitting me right now?” she chuckled, “if you think this is bad”— she blew out a long whistle— “you’re gonna have a damn heart attack when you see what provocative really is.”

The Gold King rounded the corner and leaned in, his power smothering her. She fought every instinct in her body not to cringe back. “You are strong. For a female. Brave.”

She swallowed, her lips going dry. “Uhm, thanks. I guess.”

He backed away and she let out a breath she didn’t realise she was holding. “What…uh, what are you?”

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