Sold as the Alpha King’s Breeder

Chapter 25 : You’re Descended from Witches

Mila's door cracked as I pulled the lock right off in my haste to open it.

She was sitting on the floor, staring off into space, completely still like a statue.

A chair was flipped over and glass was shattered all over the table and floor. Water dripped off the edges of the

table. Some of the drops hit her legs and she didn't even react.

What the hell had happened?

Quickly, I assessed Mila. She didn't appear to be injured. I couldn't smell blood and none of her bones were broken.

She just sat there, staring off into space, perfectly still.

Was she in shock?

I swooped down and grabbed her shoulders.

“Mila, are you okay, what happened?" I asked.

She didn't move or react. Her eyes stayed distant and I noticed how pale she was. I shook her a little harder.

“Mila!"

Her head wobbled back and forth but she still didn't say anything or move. I couldn't even tell if she was breathing.

She was completely in shock, her hands balled into fists in her lap.

I raised a hand and gently patted her cheek.

“Mila, what happened?"

She blinked and her eyes snapped to me like she was seeing me for the first time. There was no expression there.

She was blank, in shock.

“Soren?" she asked.

“Yes. It's me. Are you okay, what happened here?" I asked. I nodded toward the mess on the table and the chair.

Slowly, Mila lifted her hands. She turned them up and uncurled her fingers. In her right palm, she had a fistful of

ash. It wasn't light and feathery like ashes pulled from a fire pit. They were densely packed together.

Maybe that was because she'd held them so tightly in her hand but I'd never seen ashes like that.

“What is it?" I asked.

Mila blinked at me. She glanced at her hand and then pulled away. Quickly she jumped to her feet and tossed the

ashes on the floor. She clapped her hands together and wiped away the residue.

“It's nothing," she said, backing away from me more.

The ashes were collected in a small pile on the ground. It was unusual behavior for ashes. They might float away or

scatter but not drop into a pile like grains of sand.

“Mila…"

“I said it was nothing," she insisted.

When I glanced at her again she still looked dazed and confused. But she'd recovered from her shock enough to lie

to me again.

I looked over the table and realized the shattered glass was from the vase she'd put the flowers in. Water on the

table had come from the vase. The only thing missing was the flowers.

I looked at the little lump of ash again. The flowers were burned to ash and the vase had been smashed or maybe

exploded based on how scattered the shards were.

“What did you do?" I demanded, pointing to the ashes.

“Hmph."

Mila crossed her arms and turned on her heel. She disappeared into the bathroom and returned with a towel.

Quickly, she righted the toppled chair and then started wiping up the water and collecting the shards of glass.

I noticed how she carefully stepped around the ashes, like she was afraid to touch them again.

She knew exactly what had happened.

I stood by and waited for her to respond, to say something. She kept cleaning up the mess as if I wasn't even there.

Suddenly, she hissed.

“What is it?" I asked, moving to her side.

Mila had dropped the towel on the table. She had her palms pressed together and I saw blood mixed in with what

was left of the water. Crimson dripped to the floor, thinned out from the water.

Small rivulets of blood ran down her palm and wrist and her face got even paler. She gritted her teeth and I could

tell she was still in a fair amount of pain.

“Let me see," I said, holding out my hand.

Mila shook her head. “I can take care of myself."

Ignoring her refusal, I grabbed her wrists and pulled her hands apart. There was a long gash across her palm and I

could see a sliver of glass deeply embedded in the cut.

I sighed. “We've gotta get that glass out or the bleeding won't stop."

Gently, I tugged Mila into the bathroom. I found a first aid kit in the medicine cabinet and tapped the sink vanity.

“Sit up here," I ordered.

Mila arched an eyebrow at me but she didn't resist my request. She hopped up on the sink vanity and held her hand

out to me.

I dug a pair of tweezers out of the first aid kit. “This is going to hurt."

“I can handle it," she assured.

I had to get closer to Mila. Sliding between her legs, I was surprised when she tightened them briefly around my

hips, but I kept my eyes down.

She didn't seem aware she'd done it and just stared at the bloody gash on her hand.

I cupped her hand in mine and held it to the light. The sliver of glass glinted and I probed her wound with the

tweezers.

Mila hissed and her body tensed.

“Hold on, I've almost got it," I said. I could feel the glass with the tweezers but it was slippery from her blood and I

couldn't get a good grip.

She clamped her eyes shut and sucked in a sharp breath.

“Got it!" I pulled the glass out and Mila let out a long, low sigh of relief.

“Thanks," she murmured.

“Press this to the wound," I said, putting a piece of cotton in her hand. She held it in place while I prepared a

bandage and an antiseptic wipe.

When I glanced at her face, she was looking at me. There was still something distant in her eyes but she smiled

lightly.

“Maybe, sometimes it is alright to have someone looking out for me," she said, smiling lightly.

I smirked and held her gaze as I took the cotton away and cleaned her wound.

She winced and bit her lower lip.

“You're tough. You can handle a little cut in your hand," I told her. I put the bandage on and patted her hand gently.

As I pulled away, Mila grabbed my hand, sandwiching it between her hands. She ran her thumb over my knuckles.

“Still, I don't mind this right now," she said, her cheeks flushing slightly.

I shook my head. She was being too nice, too seductive. I knew that meant she was working her manipulations on

me.

“Well, I'm here whenever you need a little extra care," I said with a playful scoff.

Her blush deepened and she flitted her eyes to the side for a moment. Then she looked at me again.

“Thank you for coming to check on me," she said in a soft, sultry tone.

I reached up with my free hand and touched her cheek. “I told you I'd protect you."

She swallowed hard and nodded. Her breast rose and fell just inches from me. She looked so innocent and

vulnerable sitting on the sink vanity.

If I leaned in an inch, I could kiss her. I could grab her hips and take her right there. The look in her eyes told me

she'd let me.

But I was more interested in what had happened to her flowers.

Every other question she'd brushed off, I had let it go because I knew it was the only way to get her to cooperate.

This time, I couldn't. The situation was too strange and if Mila was hiding something that big… I had a few theories

to go off of but nothing I'd accuse her of without more information.

“I know the flowers burned to ashes," I said, breaking the heated tension between us. “Normal fire doesn't burn

plants like that. And if you had just lit a fire, you wouldn't be acting like this."

Mila turned her head from me. She released my hand and slid off the sink vanity. Without responding, she walked

into the other room and got back to cleaning up her mess.

“Mila…" I followed after her.

I'd seen my fair share of odd occurrences, magic, and strange artifacts. Based on what I'd seen, there was only one

possibility that made sense.

“You just used a spell, didn't you? You're the descendent of witches," I said.

Mila rounded on me, wide-eyed. She put her hands on her hips and glared.

The revelation was surprising, even to me. It had been one of my theories, but I hadn't intended to throw it out

there until I knew more.

Was it intuition that told me I was making the right guess?

Among shifters, across many dimensions, there were some that were blessed by the Moon Goddess and given

special powers. Supposedly, they served the Moon Goddess as her maidens, because they were usually women, so

the Moon Goddess gifted them with powers, and those powers passed on to their descendants.

Over the centuries, witches became fewer and fewer in number. Their powers also weakened.

No one knew why. It could have been because the Moon Goddess revoked the blessing or because their bloodlines

were watered down.

Eventually, they became so few and their powers less legendary, so most just passed as regular shifters.

All the stories of them were considered legends or folktales now. It was hard to tell what was true and what wasn't.

I didn't even know what was true or not and I'd spent a lot of time researching it.

I looked away from Mila and studied the scene in her room again.

Ever since I'd learned about Rosalie's true identity, I had realized that many legends were based in truth. Stories

came from somewhere, didn't they? I spent a lot of time digging into legends and stories.

Whenever I went somewhere new, I dove into the local legends, especially ones about magic, so I could understand

the cultures better and look for traces of magic based on the history of a place.

I'd been looking into magic legends before coming to the Realm of Shadows. Since being here, I'd done my

research.

What I found hadn't made complete sense. About fourteen or fifteen years ago, a few years before I arrived in the

Realm of Shadow, the already rare descendants of witches practically vanished.

From what I understood, no one knew if they existed anymore or not.

If Mila was a witch descendant, it was proof enough.

I'd never been to a realm before where a large group of mystics, in this case, witch descendants, vanished in one

large group at a specific time. That detail had always stuck out to me.

There wasn't a lot of documentation about witches in this realm anymore and I hadn't had a reason to dig deeper.

Until now…

“Mila, you're descended from witches, aren't you?" I asked again when she continued to stare at me.

“No!" she cried vehemently. “I am not!