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

look at each other

on — another week and we’d be

“I’m sorry, child.”

first priest professes gravely, closing the distance

not do this if there

unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before, takes over my

are screaming at me to run, to get

that whatever these men intend will be far worse

there isn’t anywhere to

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

sink my teeth into his palm, but

me away from the door, propelling me further into the

first man grabs my legs,

their hold, my screams muffled and garbled as the priest

into my mouth, the metallic tang fanning the flames in my already sour

for air

how to fight them — I’m powerless in

in the wind for

keening pierces the

my own, thick with grief and pain more complex

A deep voice, tinged with concern, joins the terrible

“It’s too much.”

“Just a little more.”

second voice, floating

“We’re so close.”

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

with their task with single-minded focus, and i’m nothing more than a pawn in their game — tiny and helpless to stop

the

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

it’s pearlescent sheen glimmering like

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

it round and

sides and my legs tightly shut, I’m completely

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

falls over my mouth, the

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

able to breathe, though I

come to life – my mind is awake but I’m trapped in my own body, unable to move

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

the priests 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 and onto my

my body, stones or crystals placed in deliberate patterns

electricity in my veins warning me that

I’m running out of time, but I