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.

hiss, my body shuddering

look at each other with

timing was spot on — another week and

“I’m sorry, child.”

professes gravely,

this if there was another

anything I’ve ever experienced before, takes over my

instincts are screaming at me to run,

me that whatever these men intend will be far worse than

isn’t anywhere

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

my teeth into his

simply wrenches me away from the

man grabs my legs,

violently against their hold, my screams muffled and garbled as

tang fanning the flames in my already sour

for air and struggling to focus on

— I’m powerless in their strong grips, and they seem completely

be a feather swaying in the wind for all the

keening pierces the air,

cries are deeper than my own, thick with grief and pain more complex than the sheer fright in my

deep voice, tinged with concern,

“It’s too much.”

“Just a little more.”

second voice, floating

“We’re so close.”

idea where these sounds are coming from, and

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

the floor and pinned

on my kicking legs, pulling

shimmering silk cloth, it’s pearlescent sheen glimmering like moonlight, glowing in the

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

it round and round

arms are locked against my sides and

move a muscle in the fabric’s punishing grip, and soon they’re wrapping my head, as if they intend to mummify

mouth, the priest finally removes his hand from my

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

able to breathe, though I don’t

awake but I’m

to move, to do something – anything! But nothing happens because this isn’t a dream from which I can wake, this is real,

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

moment before drops of moisture

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

trying to fight the cocoon, that foreign electricity in my veins

of time, but I refuse to give up hope