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

each

on — another week

"I’m sorry, child."

gravely,

do this if

anything I’ve ever experienced before, takes over my

me to run,

intend will be far worse than anything the doctor or dormitory matron have ever

there isn’t anywhere

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

his palm, but

the door, propelling

first man grabs my legs, and I’m lifted off

hold, my screams muffled and

tang fanning the flames in my already

rises, and I’m gagging, fighting for air and

fight them — I’m powerless in

a feather swaying in the wind for

keening pierces the air,

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

with concern, joins the terrible

"It’s too much."

"Just a little more."

second voice, floating

"We're so close."

from, and the priests don’t seem to hear them at

i’m nothing more than a pawn in their game

thrust onto the

priest restrains my wrists while the other sits on my kicking legs, pulling his

cloth, it’s pearlescent sheen

it around my body, it tightens around me with the unyielding force of

the fabric, winding it round and round like a glittering

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

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

before the silk falls over my mouth, the priest finally removes his hand

scream escapes before the moonlight closes over my gaping lips, locking my face into the contours of a

breathe, though I

nightmares come to life - my mind is awake but I’m trapped in my own body,

lie 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 it’s only

the priests rummaging around outside the walls of my silken prison, and I strain to identify the sounds: the clink of glass? The jostling of beads? novelebook A bottle uncorking? For

some pungent, herbaceous fragrance a moment before drops of moisture seep through the silk and

are laid over my body, stones or crystals placed in deliberate patterns on my head,

that foreign electricity in my veins warning me that I won't be

but I refuse to give up hope for

chant then, speaking a

small room, carrying arcane