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

was spot on — another

“I’m sorry, child.”

first priest professes gravely, closing the distance

not do this if

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

to run, to get

that whatever these men intend will be far worse than

there isn’t

I am bearing down on me.I try to scream,

sink my teeth into his palm, but he

from the door, propelling me

my legs, and I’m lifted

screams muffled

mouth, the metallic tang fanning the flames

gorge rises, and I’m gagging, fighting for air and struggling to

don’t know what to do or how to fight them — I’m powerless in their

well be a feather swaying in the wind for

distant keening pierces the air,

pain

deep voice, tinged with concern,

“It’s too much.”

“Just a little more.”

floating above

“We’re so close.”

idea where these sounds are coming from, and the priests

more than a pawn in their game —

onto the floor and pinned

my wrists while the other sits on my kicking legs, pulling

it’s pearlescent sheen glimmering like moonlight, glowing

they begin wrapping it around my body,

enclose me in the fabric, winding it round and round like

locked against my sides and my legs tightly shut, I’m

punishing grip, and soon they’re wrapping my head,

the silk falls over my mouth, the priest finally removes his

the moonlight closes over my gaping lips,

to breathe, though

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

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

sounds: the clink of glass? The

some pungent, herbaceous fragrance a moment before drops

stones or crystals placed in deliberate patterns on

trying to fight the cocoon, that foreign electricity in my veins warning me that I won’t be able to

know I’m running out of time, but I refuse to give up