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.

I hiss, my

each

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

"I’m sorry, child."

first priest professes gravely, closing

do this if there was another

anything I’ve ever experienced before,

to run, to

will be far worse than

isn’t

I am bearing down on me.I try to

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

from the door, propelling me

grabs my legs,

their hold, my screams muffled and garbled as

mouth, the metallic tang fanning the flames in my

and I’m gagging, fighting for air and struggling to focus on

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

be a feather swaying in the wind for

the air,

and pain more complex than

deep voice, tinged with concern, joins the terrible

"It’s too much."

"Just a little more."

voice, floating above me,

"We're so close."

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

more than a pawn in their game — tiny and

onto the floor

first priest restrains my wrists while the other sits on my kicking

it’s pearlescent sheen glimmering like

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

enclose me in the fabric, winding it

sides

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

my mouth, the priest finally removes his

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

able to breathe, though I don’t understand

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

brain screaming at my nerve endings and muscles to move, to do something - anything! But nothing

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

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

placed in deliberate patterns on

in my veins warning me that I won't be able

time, but I refuse to give up hope

begin to chant then, speaking a

around the small room, carrying arcane power