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.

away!” I hiss, my body shuddering with

each other

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

“I’m sorry, child.”

gravely,

would not do this if there was

ever experienced before, takes

are screaming at me to run, to get away at

whatever these men intend will be far worse than

isn’t

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

my teeth into his palm, but he doesn’t

the door, propelling me

first man grabs my legs,

hold, my screams muffled and garbled as the priest

metallic tang fanning

and I’m gagging, fighting for air and struggling

them — I’m powerless in their strong

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

distant keening pierces the air, sounding

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

deep voice, tinged with concern, joins the terrible

“It’s too much.”

“Just a little more.”

second voice, floating above me,

“We’re so close.”

have no idea where these sounds are coming from, and the

focus, and i’m nothing more than a pawn in their game —

the

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

cloth, it’s pearlescent sheen glimmering

airy, but when they begin wrapping it around my body, it tightens around me with

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

my sides and my legs

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

my mouth, the priest finally removes his hand from

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

breathe, though I don’t

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

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

to identify the sounds: the clink of glass? The jostling of beads? novelebook A bottle uncorking? For all the fabric’s strength,

nose is filled with some pungent, herbaceous fragrance a moment before drops of moisture seep through

laid over my body, stones or crystals placed in deliberate patterns on my head,

in my veins

running out of time, but I refuse