Surrogate For Alpha Dom

#Chapter 179 — 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.

away!" I hiss, my body shuddering with these

men look at each other with grim

on — another week and

"I’m sorry, child."

first priest professes gravely, closing

do this if there was another

unlike anything I’ve ever experienced

screaming at me to run, to

tell me that whatever these men intend will be far worse than anything the doctor

there isn’t

stronger than I am bearing down on me.I try to scream, but the second priest clamps his hand over my mouth before

his palm, but he doesn’t

me away from the door,

legs,

hold, my screams muffled and garbled as the priest

metallic tang fanning the flames in my

I’m gagging, fighting for air and struggling to

to do or how to fight them — I’m powerless in their strong grips, and they seem

a feather swaying in the wind for

pierces the air,

pain more complex

tinged with concern,

"It’s too much."

"Just a little more."

second voice, floating

"We're so close."

are coming from, and the priests don’t

more than a pawn in their game — tiny

the floor and pinned

sits on my kicking legs,

cloth, it’s pearlescent sheen glimmering like moonlight, glowing in the

soft and airy, but when they begin wrapping it around my body, it tightens around me with the

in the fabric, winding it round and round like a glittering

locked against my sides

punishing grip, and soon they’re wrapping my head, as if they intend to

falls over my mouth, the priest finally removes his hand

my gaping lips, locking my face

though I

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

there 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, and

rummaging around outside the walls of my silken prison, and I strain to identify the sounds: the clink of glass? The jostling of beads?

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

stones or crystals placed in deliberate patterns

that foreign electricity in my veins

I know I’m running out of time, but I refuse

then, speaking a language I do

room, carrying arcane power