Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

brANSON

I look over at Emmeline's tear-stained face as anger bubbles deep in my gut. Normally, I love seeing an omega with mascara smearing down their cheeks, but not like this. Her mother has something to do with this. I know it in my gut.

With one hand on the wheel, I slide my other over to grasp hers in a warm embrace. However, the instant my fingers brush against her skin, she flinches. This won't do. I need to break the ice somehow, to show her I'm not a threat. At least not in the way she thinks.

"Where did you get the butt plug from?"

"Pardon?" Her voice leaps from her throat, thin, fragile, startled.

A deep chuckle rumbles in my chest as I note her wide-eyed stare. "You know, the one I managed to pull from your ass. Where did you get it?"

"Must we talk about this? Can't we just forget it happened?"

"Oh no, my little bride. I can't and won't. Do you realize how the vision of you face down ass up tormented my dreams ever since I saw you?"

"Oh." She looks away, a slight blush fanning across her cheeks in the most adorable manner.

"You can't tell me you didn't think of me at all. Not even a little?" Though a hint of distress wafts about her body, I continue to push forward, forcing her out of this shell she's erecting around herself.

"I did." Her voice is so small I almost don't hear her.

"And?"

"And what?"

"And did you like what you thought about?"

Emmeline's lips thin as she turns further away from me and stares out the window. More unease continues to drip from her body, filling the car until it's almost thick with the stench of her unhappiness.

"Talk to me, Emmeline. What has you so distraught?"

She finally turns to face me, her eyes wide and wet with unshed tears. Gritting my teeth, I scan the area, looking for a place I can pull over so we can talk. Once we're in place, I turn in my seat and drape my arm over the back of her chair, effectively caging her in.

"Come on, sweet girl. Out with it. I'm your husband now. You can tell me anything."

"Only for six months," she blurts before slapping her hand across her mouth.

"I see. So you're planning on, what, not actually trying?" When she remains silent, I nod. "Got it. It's because of my job, isn't it? Poor little princess doesn't think she can handle slumming it with a commoner."

"No, no. You got it all wrong!" Hysteria laces her tone as looks up at me with those glittering emerald eyes of hers.

"Do I? Where exactly do I have it wrong? Enlighten me. Convince me."

Her hands flop helplessly onto her lap. "I don't think I can. You're not wrong, but you're not right either. I don't care what you do. I'm not like that. I don't judge a person on their vocation or income. Besides, all money does is make things worse."

"Then what is it? If you don't care, why won't you try? I sure as hell plan to do my best to make this work."

"Oh, right," she snaps. "It's so easy for you. Well, don't plan on getting anything out of my parents just because you think you can make this work. You won't see a dime."

"Listen here, Princess. I don't give a shit about their money. I make my own. I've always made my own since I was old enough to leave the house and get a job. As far as I'm concerned, this marriage is between you and me. Your parents can go fuck themselves."

Her face pinkens again as she turns away from me. "You really ought to watch your language in front of a lady, you know."

"Oh, poor thing. Is my rough, debased tongue causing you to feel uncomfortable? Let your icy walls down for me, and I'll show you what else this tongue can do."

The rapid blinking is hysterical. There's no way this omega can be that innocent. Then again, she was convinced a porn star was an actual doctor. But then, what do I know? Maybe he is. Maybe he just does this for fun on the side. Unlikely, but plausible.

"I- I would like to think our tongues can do the same thing. I just happen to be more in control of mine."

"You'd like to think that, wouldn't you, Princess? Trust me, I have full control over my tongue."

"Well, I should hope so."

The poor, na?ve, little thing doesn't get it. But she will. Just as soon as she lets me show her all the wonders sex can hold.

"None of this changes the fact that you need to loosen up a bit. To hell with how I talk. It's how I treat you that should matter."

"I suppose," she hedges, uncertainty darkening her eyes.

"Back to the subject at hand. Why aren't you committed to making this marriage work?"

"Do we really have to talk about that?" The soft whine in her tone makes my balls draw up and my cock harden.

"Well, it's either that, or you tell me where you got the butt plug."

Emmeline lowers her head so I can't see her eyes, but I can still see the climbing red that engulfs her face. "Sex Sex Sex Emporium."

The fact that she'd rather talk about the source of her greatest shame instead of her reasons for holding back in the marriage is telling. But I won't push. Not yet, at least.

"Well, there's your problem right there. They don't have the good stuff. Come on. Let me take you somewhere better."

Her head snaps up as she pins me with a frantic stare. "Oh, must we? People will see me. They will-"

"Well, how did you get the butt plug from the other place?"

"I had a hood concealing most of me. My friends were really the ones who picked it out."

"Your friends?" Anger sizzles along my synapsis. "You mean like the ones who didn't give a shit you were getting married today?"

Tears drip down her cheeks, staining her face as misery surrounds her body like a cloak. Well hell, the last thing I wanted to do was make her cry like this. Unbuckling my seatbelt, I reach over and undo hers so I can gather her as best as I can into my arms.

"I'm sorry, sweetie. That was unkind of me to say."

"No," she hiccups. "You're right. They aren't my friends. None of them are. Not really. They only tolerate me because of my parents."

I run my hand over her soft hair and breathe in her alluring scent. "Then why do it? Why let them talk you into something you clearly weren't ready for?"

"They all did it. At least, that's what they said. I'd listen to them all talk around the lunch table when our breaks would line up. Nothing to it. No one would know. And honestly, how could they know? But then everything went wrong. Everything always goes wrong when I try to rebel. I should have known better."

"You're safe with me. You can rebel to your heart's content. Well, maybe not toward me. I've been known to be able to take a brat or two in hand. But you don't strike me as the bratty type. Hell, I'd be elated if you actually did."

"Oh. Oh, I can't do that. Ladies are demure, mindful, respectful-"

"Fuck demure, mindful, and respectful. I want you wild, free, and unencumbered from all these bullshit rules your parents put on you. Brat. Hell, become a little hellion I have to wrangle. As long as you don't put yourself into some sort of danger I can't save you from, do it. You're my wife now. You're not your mother's daughter anymore."

Her eyes narrow as she pulls back. Though her body trembles, she puts on what I can only hope is a brave face as she levels her glare at me.

"Go to hell," she whispers, making my lips twitch in a ghost of a smile.

"Oh, I think you can do better than that."

"F- Fuck you." The moment the words leave her lips, she slaps both hands over her mouth and looks around.

When nothing bad immediately happens, she giggles, the squealing sound loosening the tight band around my heart a touch.

"Fuck you!" she cries out a bit louder, a maniacal gleam shining in her eyes.

"That's your get out of jail free card," I tease, running my thumbs down her cheeks to wipe away her tears. "After this, if you tell me to fuck myself, I might just have to punish that gorgeous ass of yours."

In an instant, she sobers. "You wouldn't."

"Oh, yes, I would. And I'm pretty sure you'll like it too."

"Probably not," she grumbles, crossing her arms.

"You can keep sassing me if you want to find out. I'm very accommodating that way."

"But you just said-"

"I know what I said. I invite all of it. But just as long as you remember, all actions have consequences."

"Well then, what's the point?"

"The point, my little brat in training, is that not all consequences are bad. It's just a natural order of events. You do A and B happens."

She crosses her arms and huffs for a moment before sticking her lower lip out. "Fuck you," she mutters under her breath, so low she probably thinks I can't hear it.

Chuckling, I put my seatbelt back on and motion to hers. "Buckle up. Don't want the officers around here taking away my fun."

As we pull up to my small apartment, I watch Emmeline closely. I know she said she didn't care about money, but I'm definitely in the camp of I'll believe it when I see it. Being raised by parents like hers has such a high chance of turning her into the snot-nosed trust fund kids who made my life miserable.

I want her to be different. I need her to be different. But I can't let my heart get too attached until I know for sure. Walking over to her side of the car, I open the door and extend my hand. She looks over the apartments, her eyes drifting over the various residences.

So far, she doesn't seem too shocked. Maybe if she's truly this ambivalent about money, I can show her the houses I was looking at this morning. With a large grin, I extend my hand.

"Well, Princess. Home sweet home." I stand there, my breath catching in my throat as I judge her reactions.

"I have to say, I'm quite surprised."

"Let me guess. A lot smaller than what you were hoping for."

"The complete opposite. It's massive. I didn't realize emergency personnel could amass property this large. Mother will be thrilled." She turns to me, eyes wide and sparkling with joy and perhaps a hint of hope. "You must be doing rather well to have such a property."

"What part do you think is your new home?"

She motions to the entire complex. "Well, all of it. Is it not? Or are you planning on confining me to a specific area as my punishment?"

Unbidden, a laugh erupts from my lips. Judging by her expression, the poor, sheltered omega must be thinking I'm laughing at her. But I'm not. Not exactly.

"No, Princess. I would never punish you by confining you somewhere. That's not my kink. Come. Let me show you your actual home."

For a moment, she falters as I grab her hand and drag her along. "I don't understand. It's not this whole place?"

"Not even close."

As we step up to my door, she keeps her emotions shuttered where I can't tell what she's thinking or feeling. At least it's better than her throwing a rich girl tantrum on my doorstep for all to see. She remains silent as I open the door and motion for her to come inside.

Thankfully, I took the suggestions of my sister and actually cleaned the place. As it is, it only takes a handful of minutes for her to go from the kitchen with the eat-in dining room to the living room to my bedroom and bathroom. All the while, not a word drops from her lips.

I long to know what she's thinking, to know exactly how disappointed she is with her new space. But still, even as she comes back and sits on the couch, she doesn't say a word. Taking the chair across from her, I spread my thighs and place my elbows on my knees as I lean forward.

"Penny for your thoughts."

Instead of answering, she bursts into tears. Just as I thought. Poor little rich girl can't hack it in the real world. Disappointment floods my veins as I sigh and stand up in front of her. And here I thought she had a sense of adventure, a soul longing to break free from the confines of wealth and stature.

I guess I was wrong.

"I'll find you somewhere else to live until the six months are up."

"You don't understand," she wails, her tear-stained eyes boring into my soul. "I couldn't care less where you live. I don't care at all that it's about the size of my bedroom and ensuite. I just... For a moment there, I had hope."

"Hope?" I grumble, not understanding what she's babbling on about.

"Hope that I can actually convince my mother to let me try."