The Mystical Attraction of Alpha

Chapter 175 — 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 with

men look at each

another week

“I’m sorry, child.”

gravely, closing

not do this

ever

to run, to get

tell me that whatever these men intend will be far worse than anything

isn’t

at my back and two attackers far larger and stronger than I am bearing down on me.I

sink my teeth into his palm,

wrenches me away from the door, propelling me further into

first man grabs my legs, and I’m lifted

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

my mouth, the metallic tang

fighting for air and struggling to focus on my

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

well be a feather swaying in the wind for all

the air, sounding very

and pain more complex than the sheer fright in my own panicked

tinged with

“It’s too much.”

“Just a little more.”

floating above

“We’re so close.”

no idea where these sounds are coming from,

i’m nothing more than a pawn in their game — tiny and helpless to

the floor and pinned

while the other sits on

shimmering silk cloth, it’s pearlescent

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

winding it round and round

locked against my sides and my legs tightly shut,

fabric’s punishing grip, and soon they’re wrapping my

over my mouth, the priest finally removes

closes over my gaping lips, locking my face into the contours of a silent

to breathe, though

mind is awake but I’m trapped in my

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

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? novelebook A bottle uncorking? For all the fabric’s strength, it does not

before drops of moisture seep through the silk and onto

stones or crystals placed in deliberate

that foreign electricity in my veins warning

running out of time, but