Page 92 of Cosmic Power

“If I had to guess, I’d say it’s because they’re too powerful. Their ability to manipulate magic would be too big of a threat to the fae.”

“So they…what? Killed them all?”

“It’s what I would do.” His eyes flicked to her forearm, the massive, intrusive silver cuff locked tightly around her wrist. He frowned. “What’s this?” he asked, reaching forward to touch it.

She pulled her arm back before he could make contact. “Don’t. It’s silver. Barnabas had a light mage put it there to block you from finding me.”

Realisation flashed across his face. “Ah, that’s why I couldn’t sense you.”

“Yeah. And hey, when were you planning on telling me that Brand Mark you left on me was like some kind of GPS?”

“It’s not. Not exactly. It gives me the ability to sense you, your soul. If I was in close proximity to you, I would feel it. That’s it.”

She gasped, clicking her fingers. “Speaking of souls, did you know a fae doesn't have one?”

Luther’s brows creased. “Don’t have a soul?” he asked in confusion.

“Uh-huh. Apparently, anyway. The Gold King said none of them do. That they’re nothing but a weakness, a liability.”

“I wonder if Zvetari knows that,” he mumbled to himself quietly.

“That’s your maker, right?”

“Yes. He also happens to be the Ancestral Vampire.”

Her jaw dropped open. “Get. Outta. Town. Really?! Wait, his son Daeva was at the warehouse when the fae came through the portal. His throat was slit and he wasn’t healing. Is he okay?”

Luther nodded. “He’s recovering. Lenore—the Ancestral Light Mage—healed him. As much as she could, anyway. Somehow the knife Barnabas used against him stopped his vampire healing ability from working.”

“I know. He gloated about that right before the fucker cut him.”

A flashback of Barnabas, about how the Gold King ripped his heart out from across the room, flared through her mind. She thought she would feel something over his death. He was her father, after all. Her blood. And yet, she didn’t feel a damn thing. Except maybe anger that she didn’t get to do it herself.

“Did you find Roman?” she asked. Guilt hit her hard when she realised she’d forgotten about him after all the crazy shit that went down. “He was locked in one of the cells down in their creepy ass dungeon.”

“After the battle with the fae, the shifters abandoned their territory. There weren’t many of them left by the time it was over. My men were combing through the buildings to claim the spoils when I came here to look for you. I’m sure they’ll find him.”

Zamorra wasn’t so sure. She remembered how the entrance to her grand prison was being concealed by magic. She just hoped he could hold on for a little while longer. The second she got back, she would lead them straight to it.

Luther picked up the leaf of meat, gaining her complete attention.

Her body stiffened—a natural reaction to someone touching her food—but she fought her instincts, pushing it down. She could just imagine her werewolf shrieking in horror.

“You need to eat,” he said, holding the food out to her.

She took it from him, putting a few pieces in her mouth. She wasn’t really that hungry, but she did it to please him.

His eyes traced her face, the dry blood coating her skin. He smouldered with darkness, anger radiating from him. He ran the back of his fingers lightly over her cheek before tucking her hair behind her ear, his focus entirely on her. “What happened, Zamorra? Tell me what they did to you.”

She leaned into his hand and closed her eyes, taking comfort in his touch. She didn’t want to answer. But she had a feeling Luther wouldn’t drop the subject as easily as her uncle had.

“The King wanted to know about Earth’s armies and defences. About who was the dominant species of our planet, and how our societies operated. When I wouldn’t answer him, he cut me. Stabbed me.”

His jaw clenched so hard she was afraid he’d shatter his teeth. His eyes glowed with fury. “And this?” He tapped the dry blood around her eyes.

She flinched and looked away.Fuck.She must look like an absolute mess. She couldn’t even imagine what she looked like right now. Usually, she wasn’t the type to give a shit about her appearance. She was a tomboy, she liked being rough and getting dirty. But for some reason she felt extremely self conscious under his penetrating gaze.

“Zamorra,” Luther murmured softly. “Talk to me.”

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