Alpha Dom and His Human Surrogate

Chapter 175 — Bound Trigger warning — Assault (non-sexual)

Ella

“It’s all right, Ella.”

The first priest says, approaching me as one might a skittish horse — with slow, measured movements and hands exposed to show he holds no weapon.

“We only want to protect you.”

“Protect me from what?” I question shakily, my back flush against the locked door.

“You have a very powerful magic inside you, and if it’s allowed to come out you’ll be exposed.We can’t let that happen.” He explains, using a tone much too gentle to be trustworthy.

It’s as though he’s trying to trick me, to convince me he’s kind when he truly intends malice.

“I don’t have any magic.” I insist, wishing that I did.

Maybe if I was magic I might be able to put a stop to the things happening here — to protect the others without bringing harm to myself.I was so preoccupied with this statement that I almost missed the second piece of information.

“Exposed to what?”

“You do, it just hasn’t shown itself yet.”

The second priest sighs, keeping his distance but watching me with sharp eyes.

“At least not in ways you understand.Tell me, have you never noticed how much stronger you are than your peers? That you can hear and smell things from much greater distances? That you can run faster, jump higher, suffer greater injuries with less pain?”

He inquires, his hawkish gaze searing into me, “do they not follow you? Gravitate to your side and obey you as a leader?”

My head spins, making me dizzy with the possibilities.He guesses correctly, but that can’t be because I have some sort of special power.It’s just the way things are…isn’t it? “And exposed to a world you cannot yet join.”

The first man adds.

“It must happen when the time is right – but that time is a very long way off.”

“I don’t understand.”

I squeak, a sense of pure dread settling in the pit of my stomach.

“We know, Ella.”

The second man proclaims, “And I’m sorry that this must happen, it will not be pleasant, but it is necessary for the future of our people.”I shake my head, fighting back tears.

Their words are triggering every alarm bell in my young mind.I know what men do to little girls under the guise of necessity, the pretense of helping or protecting.

And I know exactly how unpleasant things can get.

My blood runs cold, and my pulse races, triggering a strange new energy deep in my bones.

It pulses through me like a bolt of electricity, a wild thing writhes just beneath my skin, feral and rabid — begging to be free.

my body shuddering with these new

each other

another week and we’d

“I’m sorry, child.”

first priest professes gravely,

this if

I’ve ever experienced before,

at me to run, to

worse than anything the doctor or dormitory

there isn’t anywhere

a bolted door at my back and two attackers far larger and stronger than I am bearing down on me.I try to scream, but the second priest clamps his hand over my

his palm, but he

away from the door, propelling me

legs, and I’m lifted

my screams muffled and

metallic tang fanning the flames in my

gagging, fighting for air and struggling to

to fight them — I’m powerless in their strong grips, and

well be a feather swaying in the wind for all the effort they expend

the air, sounding very

my own, thick with grief and pain more complex than the sheer fright in my

voice, tinged with concern, joins the

“It’s too much.”

“Just a little more.”

floating above

“We’re so close.”

sounds are coming from, and the priests don’t

and i’m nothing more than

the floor

sits on

shimmering silk cloth, it’s pearlescent sheen

wrapping it around my body, it tightens around me

enclose me in the fabric, winding it

against my sides and my legs tightly shut, I’m

fabric’s punishing grip, and soon they’re wrapping my head,

over my mouth, the priest finally removes his

my gaping lips, locking

able to breathe, though I

mind is awake but I’m trapped in my own body, unable to

motionless, my brain screaming at my nerve endings and muscles to move, to do something – anything! But nothing happens because this isn’t a dream from which I can wake, this is real,

the sounds: the clink of glass?

is filled with some pungent, herbaceous fragrance a moment before drops of moisture

crystals placed in deliberate

desperately trying to fight the cocoon, that foreign electricity in my veins warning me that

out of time, but I refuse