Page 23 of Bound to the EMT

Does this mean he’s my husband? Can I truly hope for someone so understanding? He’s certainly as blue-collar as my mother described.

My body spasms as he hunches down, crying out for him to take me, hold me, and soothe away the pain with his erotic touch. But I can’t. I can’t let him get that close.

As I turn my face away, he slides his fingers under my chin, forcing my gaze back to him. “Who did this to you? Who made you cry on your wedding day?”

“I-” A hiccup cuts me off, and that’s probably a good thing.

I can’t tell him about my mother. Not right now.

As if he reads my mind, he brings his face closer to mine. “It’s your mother, isn’t it?”

“W- what makes you think that?”

“She had a few choice words with me before storming out. Didn’t imagine she’d harangue you so close to saying ‘I do,’ but I guess it makes sense. Are you okay?”

A shaky laugh bursts from my lips as he helps me up. Nervous energy swirls through my gut as I again take in his tux, boutonniere, and stern frown on his face. Like pieces falling into place, my heart and mind both know he’s definitely the one marrying me and not one of the people attending the groom.

He has to be. I’ll just die if he’s not and once more having to help me during an embarrassing episode. But his reactions just make more sense as a future husband. He’s far more concerned and caring for someone other than that.

Mother must have seen him waiting for me down the aisle and had a meltdown. To her, he’ll never be enough, never be right for me, but she doesn’t know the shameful secret he’s kept locked away since that fateful day we first met. It’s fitting, honestly, that my one scandalous act is here to haunt me.

Unsure of how to answer his question, I drag my gaze away from his magnetic stare. I’m not okay. I’ll Never be okay. I’m not allowed the simple peace that others seem to have granted to them by some unknown benevolent being.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t allow me to escape so easily. Sliding his finger under my chin, he forces my gaze back to his.

“I need an answer from you.”

I long to pull away, but I don’t dare. “I guess it depends on your definition of okay. I’m here. I’m alive. As of right now, you don’t seem to hate me. I am rather surprised to find it’s you. But then, I guess that’s how fate goes.”

“I guess,” he murmurs, tucking an errant strand of hair behind my ear.

The instant he touches me in such a gentle, intimate way, my body comes alive, sizzling with need and want. As he stands there, gazing down into my eyes, his own darken just a touch.

“We need to get married before I answer the longing in your face. Come, let’s get this over with, my little princess.”

Before I can chide him for calling me a princess, he bends down and scoops me into his arms. As he carries me down the aisle, whoops and hollers come from the right side, but mine is deathly silent. A quick glance shows it’s empty. No one sits there in celebration of me.

Even in all this crowd, I’m still alone. At the front, my classmates look rather bored, and a touch annoyed, but then, I’m sure they had much better things to do than stand up here waiting for me to stop crying. Before I can stop myself, I bury my face into Branson’s tux, hiding myself away from all the pain and anguish.

His soft, steady purr makes me nearly boneless in his arms as he clutches me tighter, holding me as if he’ll never let me go. But he will have to let me go. Mother will make sure of that.

“This is highly irregular,” the officiant sputters out, drawing my attention.

I glance down at Branson’s tux and gasp. My makeup is smeared all over the front, ruining it from any future use. Frantically, I try wiping at it, unsure of how to fix this.

But I must. Branson probably can’t afford another tux, and now, this one he got for free, is no longer fit to be used. Maybe a cleaner can get it out?

“Steady yourself,” he grumbles, easing me down so I can stand next to him. “It isn’t the first time I’ve had an outfit ruined by a pretty omega’s tears, and it certainly won’t be the last.”

“But it’s so expensive.”

“It was free. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” Turning to the officiant, he motions for him to go ahead. “Irregular or not, I say we get on with it.” He drops his voice. “That is, unless you want the scary lady to come back and start yelling again.”

“Quite right,” the beta mumbles, drawing a smattering of laughs from the others.

He has to be talking about my mother. No one else would act that way. Shame floods my system as I bow my head, studying my shoes. It’s not right that she can treat people like this just because she’s so very rich.

With a quick clearing of his throat, the officiant starts again. “Branson Afford, allow me to introduce you to your new bride, Emmeline Astencourt.”