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.

my

at each other with

was spot on — another week and we’d be

"I’m sorry, child."

gravely, closing

do this if there was

ever

me to run,

worse than anything the doctor or dormitory matron have ever inflicted on

isn’t anywhere to

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

teeth into his palm, but

the door, propelling me further into

man grabs my legs, and I’m lifted off

muffled and garbled as

blood seeps into my mouth, the metallic tang fanning

fighting for

to fight them — I’m powerless in their strong grips, and they seem completely unaffected

a feather swaying in the wind for all the effort they expend to contain

pierces the

and pain more complex

A deep voice, tinged with concern, joins the terrible

"It’s too much."

"Just a little more."

second voice, floating above

"We're so close."

sounds are coming from, and the

more than a pawn in their game — tiny and helpless

thrust onto the floor and

restrains my wrists while the other sits on my kicking legs, pulling his tool bag to

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

airy, but when they begin wrapping it around my body, it

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

arms are locked against my sides and my legs tightly shut,

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

over my mouth, the priest finally removes his

before the moonlight closes over my gaping lips, locking

breathe, though I don’t

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

to do something - anything! But nothing happens because this

strain to identify the sounds: the clink of glass? The

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

body, stones or crystals placed in deliberate

still desperately trying to fight the cocoon, that foreign electricity in my veins warning me that I won't

running out of time, but I refuse to

begin to chant then, speaking a language I do not

the small room, carrying arcane