Surrogate For Alpha Dom

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 thatI 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

second man proclaims, “And I’m sorry that this must happen, it will not be pleasant,

every alarm bell in my young mind I know what men do to little girls under the guise of necessity, the

pulses through me like a bolt of electricity,

look at each other with grim determination. “Her timing was sp0t on – another week and we’d

child.” The first priest professes gravely, closing the distance between us.

unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before, takes over my senses. My instincts

back and two attackers far larger and stronger than I am bearing down on me. I try to scream, but the second priest clamps his hand over my mouth before the sound can escape. I sink my teeth into his palm, but he doesn’t even flinch. He simpły wrenches me away from

seeps into my mouth, the metallic tang fanning the flames in my already sour stomach. My gorge rises, and I’m gagging, fighting for air and struggling to focus on my escape. I don’t know what to do or how to fight them – I’m powerless in their strong grips, and they seem completely unaffected by my attacks. I might as well be a feather swaying

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

deep voice, tinged with concern, joins the terrible sounds. “It’s

second voice, floating above me, replies.

They continue with their task with single- minded focus, and i’m nothing more than a pawn

while the other sits on

extracts a shimmering silk cloth, it’s pearlescent sheen glimmering like moonlight, glowing in the darkness. It looks soft and airy, but when they begin wrapping it around my body, it tightens around me with the unyielding force of steel. They enclose me in the fabric, winding it round

sides and my legs tightly shut, Im completely immobile. I can’t move a muscle in the fabric’s punishing grip, and soon they’re wrapping my head, as if they intend to mummify me alive. Just before the silk falls over my mouth, the priest finally removes his hand from my mouth. A half second of my scream escapes before the moonlight closes over my gaping l!ps, locking my face into the contours of a

come to life – my mind is awake but I’m trapped in my own body, unable to move or speak. I can only lie there motionless, my brain screaming at my nerve endings and muscles to move, to do something – anything! But nothing happens

hear 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? A bottle unc0rking? FoI all the fabric’s strength, it does not stop me from feeling or smelling. My nose is filled with some pungent, herbaceous fragrance a moment before drops of moisture seep through the silk