Page 24 of Bound to the EMT

Branson looks down at me and winks, making my stomach churn again. If he keeps this up, everyone will know what he did. What we did. Keeping my face trained on the officiant, I do my best not to give anything away.

“Emmeline Astencourt, this is Branson Afford.”

“Go Ace,” a deep, masculine voice bellows out from the back.

The officiant shakes his head, already looking weary when we’re just at the start of things. “What Branson’s friends and family wish you to know about him is that he’s loyal to a fault. Even as a child, he was always caring more about others than things. Treat him well, and you’ll keep an Alpha by your side who will burn the world down just to keep you happy and safe.”

I chance a glance up at the man and note the darkness in his eyes. An odd possessiveness flares out from him, enveloping me in its warmth. Unbidden, tears gather in my eyes again, but not because of sadness. Not exactly. In that moment, I almost believe I can have the love I truly desire.

Almost.

“Branson, what Emmeline’s family wants you to know is that she is a product of good breeding and refinement. Though she flits about with her head in the clouds, pursuing art, she is willing and able to put all that aside to be the perfect, poised wife and mother you can expect from such good breeding.”

My jaw drops as the officiant looks through his notes, as if expecting there to be anything else to say. But I know better. It’s exactly the message my mother wanted to convey. If I were marrying anyone else, it would probably be a glowing recommendation, but something tells me Branson doesn’t care about such things.

“And her friends?” he growls to the officiant. “What do they have to say?”

“I- I’m sorry. I-”

“Don’t worry about it,” I mutter, my throat feeling like it’s about to close from all the emotions swirling through me. “I don’t have any friends. Not really.”

Branson looks over my shoulder at the two. “What about them?”

“Just classmates. I don’t know how they got picked, but here we are.”

“You two, out,” he snaps, snarling as they look at him with dumb expressions on their faces. “If you’re not here in full support of Emmeline, you need to leave.”

They roll their eyes and trot out, relieved mutters littering the air in their wake.

“Mr. Afford,” the officiant cries out. “But you can’t-”

“This is her wedding as much as it is mine.” With a broad sweep of his arm, he motions toward his side. “I have my friends and supporters here. It’s only fair that she does as well.” Looking down at me, he gives me a soft smile. “Don’t worry, Princess. My friends may be a bit rough around the edges, but what’s mine is yours. They’ll take you in just as well as any born family.”

I don’t even have to look over at them to feel the outpouring of love. When I do hazard a glance, new tears form in my eyes, blurring the sight. All of them beam at me, nodding as they welcome me into their clan. Perhaps I’m not so alone after all. Perhaps with them, I can have the family I’ve always wanted.

“You both have your rings?”

“Yes,” we say in unison.

Branson extends his hand, a gentle, welcoming smile on his face. To think I picked out a ring to match him, and he ended up being the one I’m marrying. A part of me wonders if this is, indeed, fate.

It looks perfect on him, as if it was always meant to rest there. With a growl of satisfaction, he turns it this way and that, looking it over. “I love it. Ready for yours?”

The moment he opens his palm, I gasp. “It’s gorgeous,” I breathe. “Stunning. I- I don’t understand. It’s so much more elegant than any of the ones for you. If I had known, I would have-”

He holds up his hand. “Now, now. None of that. I think this is a perfect ring for me. I don’t know what others they had, but I probably would have chosen this. You did well.”

His praise is a balm to my soul, allowing me to settle for a moment. As he slides the ring on my finger, I can’t help but marvel at the delicate band and the rows of diamonds surrounding the princess cut. Just like him, I don’t think I can picture a better ring.

“At this point, it is your choice if you kiss or not, but-”

Before the officiant can finish, Branson slides his hand across my cheek and into my hair. Gripping it ever so gently, he pulls me forward. Even if I want to resist him, I find that I can’t. Besides, what’s the harm in one little kiss?

It’s not like his lips will rob me of my virginity. But even as his mouth brushes over mine, I know it’s a mistake. Arousal flares through my body, hot and heavy, robbing me of my breath. My nipples ache as he crushes me to him, grinding my body against his.

I never want it to stop. This is nothing like the stolen kisses I had as a child. This is erotic, charged, and the most adult thing I’ve ever done. Besides the butt plug, that is.

Unfortunately, the more I think about the girls I stupidly called my friends, the more I realize it was all a lie. No doubt they were only sort of kind to me because of my status. They certainly weren’t friends enough for the Governing Body to have them standing next to me today.

His hands roam over my shoulders and back as if he’s memorizing my curves, drawing me back out of my brain and into the present. Owning me, possessing me, robbing me of the ability to think. When he finally breaks off the kiss, I wobble for a moment, unsure if I’m going to collapse or not. But he’s right there to scoop me back up into his arms.

“Well then, bride, let’s say we get you acquainted with your new home.”

My gut clenches at his words. A new home means a new bed. It means being alone in the house with a man, a man who very clearly desires me. How am I supposed to hold out when his very scent demands I strip down and allow him to have his way?