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 body shuddering

each other with

timing was spot on — another week and we’d be

"I’m sorry, child."

first priest professes gravely, closing the distance

this

ever experienced before, takes over

at me to run, to

me that whatever these men intend will be far worse than anything the doctor or dormitory matron

there isn’t

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

sink my teeth into his palm, but he doesn’t even

the door, propelling

my legs, and I’m lifted

against their hold, my screams muffled and garbled as the priest continues to

into my mouth, the metallic tang fanning the

I’m gagging, fighting for

what to do or how to fight them — I’m powerless in

well be a feather swaying in the wind

pierces the

thick with grief and pain more complex

with concern, joins the terrible

"It’s too much."

"Just a little more."

voice, floating

"We're so close."

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

single-minded focus, and i’m nothing more than a pawn in their game

onto the

on my kicking legs, pulling his tool bag to his

shimmering silk cloth, it’s pearlescent

when they begin wrapping it around

the fabric, winding it round and round like a glittering

my arms are locked against my sides and my

soon they’re wrapping my head, as if they

falls over my mouth, the

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

to breathe, though I don’t understand

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

my brain screaming at my nerve endings and muscles to move, to do something - anything! But nothing happens because this isn’t a

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 all the fabric’s

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

crystals placed in deliberate patterns on

in my veins warning me that

out of time, but

speaking a language I

the small room, carrying arcane