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.

I hiss, my body shuddering with these new

each other with grim

another week and we’d be too

“I’m sorry, child.”

gravely, closing the

this if

I’ve ever experienced before, takes

me to run,

whatever these men intend will be far worse than

there isn’t anywhere

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

teeth into his palm, but

from the door, propelling me further

man grabs my legs, and I’m lifted off

thrash violently against their hold, my screams muffled and garbled as the priest continues to

metallic tang fanning the flames in my

gagging, fighting for air and

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

a feather swaying in the wind for all the effort

pierces the air, sounding very far

cries are deeper than my own, thick with grief and pain more complex

with concern,

“It’s too much.”

“Just a little more.”

voice, floating above

“We’re so close.”

no idea where these sounds are coming from,

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

onto the floor

on my kicking legs, pulling his tool bag to

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

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

fabric, winding it round

arms are locked against my sides and my legs tightly

grip, and soon they’re wrapping my

mouth, the priest finally

my scream escapes before the moonlight closes over my

breathe, though I don’t

life – my mind is awake

brain screaming at my nerve endings and muscles to move, to do something – anything! But nothing happens because this isn’t a dream from

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

moment before drops of moisture seep through the silk and onto

laid over my body, stones or crystals placed in deliberate

in my veins warning me that I won’t be able

running out of time, but I refuse to