Page 40 of Bound to the EMT

CHAPTER 16

BRANSON

Jackson and I joke as we sit in the ambulance, waiting for another call before the shift is over. Normally, I don’t mind these moments with my friend, but now that I’m married, I want nothing more than to go home to Emmeline. I long to eat whatever disaster she made and show her just how proud I am of her trying to be a perfect little homemaker when she had no training, no model, to show her how it’s done.

Perhaps we’ll luck out and get to leave our shift early. She made such a pretty picture sprawled out in the bed with my cum dripping from her pretty pussy. I can’t wait to give her an encore.

“Dispatch to Ambulance 205.”

Well, there goes that idea. A soft groan flits through my lips as they rattle off basic information, but I soon stop cold when my brain registers our new address.

“Hey, isn’t that where-” Jackson starts, his fingers inching toward the siren button.

“Yes,” I growl out. “Drive.”

Traffic conspires against us, slowing us down at every turn. At first, I wonder if she’s playing a game, trying to relive our first meeting. But when call after call goes to her voicemail, my heart seizes in my chest. Something is wrong. I can feel it.

When we turn into our driveway, I motion for Jackson to stay put. Whatever is happening, I want to be the first one to find out. I unlock the door and slip inside, my eyes darting back and forth as I try to find my wife. Smoke comes from the kitchen, but no fire alarms sound off.

As I make my way inside, I see a package of noodles and a pot of boiling water, but no Emmeline. I turn off the stove and continue to make my way through the house. Damn it. If this was my old apartment, I’d find her right away. As it is, I have to go down a hallway and look inside various rooms before I make it to my bedroom.

My heart stutters as I stare down at her limp form lying next to the bed. “Emmeline,” I shout, falling to my knees as I scoop her into my arms.

She’s burning up. Pulling my scanner out of my bag, I press her thumb onto the plate, my pulse skyrocketing as I wait for the results. Nothing. No viruses. No illnesses. Nothing.

The only thing showing as elevated is her estrogen. Turning her in my arms, I lightly tap her cheeks, doing my best to wake her up. When her lashes flutter up at me, revealing her dull emerald eyes, I take in a full breath as everything relaxes.

“What- Is your shift over already?”

“No, Princess,” I murmur, holding her close for a moment. “You called EMS. I found you like this on the floor. Talk to me. What’s going on?”

“I- Oh. Oh, God,” she exclaims, drawing her knees into her chest. “It... it hurts. Please. Please make the hurt go away.”

“I will, honey, just as soon as you tell me where it is.” Red rushes over her face as her fingers drift down toward her pussy. “You called me away from work because you’re horny? Color me flattered.”

“No. I. Well. Yes. But no. It’s not like that. It’s something else. Something different. It’s wrong. Everything is wrong.”

Her body shakes in my arms as she gestures to the room. I follow her gaze, unsure of what she’s talking about. Sure, things are a bit messy, but nothing just so out of the ordinary. It’s not as if I have a maid to keep things straight. All I have is her.

Any attempt she’s made at being domestic, I’ve applauded, praised, and helped where needed. I don’t need fancy or pristine. I’m perfectly fine with lived-in. Is Emmeline perhaps regretting marrying someone laid back like me? Someone without the fortune she’s used to?

When she doubles over again, I frown, staring down at her writhing body. No. This is something else. I take her scent deep into my lungs and freeze. No. No, it can’t be.

“Listen to me, sweet girl. If I’m not mistaken, you’re going into heat.”

She stops, lying ramrod in my arms. “You are mistaken. You have to be. I’m on suppressants. I’ve been on them since I was thirteen. There’s no way I can go into heat. It has to be something else. Scan me again.”

Easing her back onto the floor, I stride over into the adjoining bathroom and rummage through the medicine cabinet. There, just like they are every day, are her pills. I’ve seen her take them. I’ve watched her be almost militant about taking them.

As I roll a few onto my palm, however, a niggling suspicion clenches my gut. I’ve seen my fair share of pills, and these don’t look like any form of suppressants I’ve seen. The differences are minuscule, so minute that most wouldn’t even notice or even care.

Fakes. And good ones. Only the type someone with a lot of money can get. Someone like her bitch of a mother.

What is the hag playing at? On the one hand, she basically berates us for a marriage neither of us can control, and on the other, she tampers with her daughter’s suppressants. It’s as if she wants her to fail.

Unless I put in my nose suppressors, I won’t be able to resist Emmeline when she goes into heat. If I hadn’t fucked her already on our wedding night, I will certainly be fucking her now. Shaking my head, I grip the bottle in my hand and walk out to the bedroom where my omega fusses about, trying her best to fix the sheets.

“Where did you get your suppressants?”