The Stolen by Alexx Andria Page A

something about the
woman that spoke of truth. Arja caught Cassandra’s gaze wandering
to her gimpy left leg and she said, “I am not a Breeding female,”
she said by way of explanation.
    “What do you mean?”
    “I cannot carry pups beyond a certain point
in the pregnancy.”
    “Then how did you get pregnant?” Cassandra
asked, confused and concerned for the diminutive woman.
    “Ulster found a witch to spell the women in
the clan, to force a Breeding female to emerge. And it worked…at
first. Until we realized, our bodies kept rejecting the pups. It
was as if our wombs were poison. Ulster took the miscarriages as a
sign that we’d brought it upon ourselves somehow and we were
punished.”
    “It wasn’t your fault,” Cassandra cried out
softly, feeling the women’s failure as if it were a physical thing.
“That’s barbaric.”
    Arja shrugged. “Ulster was trying to save the
clan. We haven’t had a true Breeder in too long. Not since…your
mother.”
    “You knew my mother?”
    “I was young when she was here but she was
kind. And beautiful. Like you.” Arja lowered her voice and glanced
around surreptitiously to add, “You must be wary of Ulster. When
your mother left the clan to be your father, Ulster went into a
rage and tried to stop her. His face is scarred because your father
nearly ripped it off when he discovered Ulster beating her. He
hates your bloodline, even if you are the Prophesied One.”
    “Then why did he bring me here?” Cassandra
asked, a chill chasing her spine.
    Arja lifted woeful eyes to Cassandra’s and
murmured, “Nothing good, I suspect. If I were less of a coward, I’d
help you to escape. But he will kill me. I’m sorry.”
    “Leave with me,” Cassandra said impulsively,
gripping Arja’s cold hands. “There’s nothing for you here. Come
with me. The men in the other clan aren’t like Ulster. They’re kind
and generous. They would take you in, I’m sure of it.”
    “You do not know our ways. Our clans have
been warring since the beginning of time it seems. The hatred for
one another is imprinted on our DNA, branded on our souls. They
would tear me apart for daring to step foot in their
territory.”
    “That’s not true. Why would they do
that?”
    “Because it’s what we do.”
    Cassandra gave up trying to convince Arja
things would be different at the other clan. Truthfully, she didn’t
know if what she promised was true. Although Jandin and Koris had
been protective and kind, she didn’t know if that was their true
nature when not mating with a Breeding female. Particularly a
Prophesied One. Cassandra accepted the brutal scrubbing of her skin
as Arja made sure not a drop of Cristophe’s seed remained on her
body, even going so far as to swish her vagina with an efficient
sweep of her finger to make sure nothing remained inside her womb,
and then Cassandra was dried and dressed in an frumpy brown sack of
a dress that looked as if it’d been salvaged from a bag meant for
the thrift store. She lifted the hem of the ugly dress and let it
drop.
    “It matters little what you wear. Ulster will
simply tear it from your body when he mates with you.”
    Cassandra stared in open repulsion. “I don’t
want to mate with him.”
    A small smile lifted Arja’s mouth. “That
won’t matter either. A word of advice: Don’t fight. Accept your
fate with grace and maybe he won’t mark you for sport. Ulster is a
mean bastard with a penchant for inflicting pain on others.”
    Fear snaked its way to her heart and her
knees had begun to quake as they walked down the dingy hallway to
another room.
    At one time, the decrepit house may have been
grand but time and disrepair, vandals and neglect had aged the
classy Victorian to a shell of its former grandeur. Much like a
great courtesan who had fallen on hard times and was forced to
service rough patrons in a filthy alleyway to make ends meet, the
old house struggled to retain some semblance of what it had once
been in its