Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

EMMELINE

"Have you finished your water?" My mother's shrill voice cuts into the tranquil silence.

With a soft groan, I look over at the large bottle. "Yes, Mother."

"Another."

As if by magic, the bottle disappears, and another takes its place. My stomach churns as I eye it, not wanting to put another drop in my mouth. Even as I move about, I swear I'm sloshing.

"May I please take a break? I don't want to get full and bloated before dinner."

She turns and looks at me, her eyes narrowing. "Are you gaining weight?"

"N- No, Mother. Not that I'm aware."

With an impatient sigh, she pushes the maid away and steps behind me, pulling the back of my dress together. "It barely fits you. You've always been slender enough to wear your clothes. Why is it not fitting?"

"Probably all the water you're making me drink. I can't possibly pee it all out."

"Humor does not become you," she hisses, snapping her finger at the maid. "Have her try another. This dress does not sit well on her." When her gaze slides back over to me in the mirror, I repress the urge to shudder. "Are you saying it's my fault?" she continues, her waspish voice buzzing in my ear. "You have emergency services create a ruckus on our front lawn and you think there would be no repercussions?"

"I'm sorry I-"

"As if you don't have access to all the water your heart desires. How can you, an Astencourt, be dehydrated with depleted electrolytes? Such conditions are for poor people. Not people like us."

The maid hands her another dress and backs away, keeping her face lowered to the ground. I don't dare give her a sympathetic smile. Not where my mother can see it.

"Out of that dress. It is to be sent to the burn pile."

"But Mother."

"Do not ‘but Mother' me. You will look presentable at all times. If the dress no longer flatters your figure, it does not need to remain in your closet. I warn you, continue to gain weight like this, and you'll have nothing to wear. Then where will you be?"

I wrap my arms around my waist and smoosh this new dress hard against my abdomen. "I'm sure if I can just slow down on the water, I'll fit in it again."

Again, her eyes narrow, but this time, her gaze goes down to my stomach. "You're pregnant. Aren't you?"

"I- What?" Whirling around, I plant my hands on my hips. "Why would you even think such a thing?"

She inclines her head to the maid. "Leave us and call Doctor Jamie. Tell him to get here quickly."

"Ma'am." With a small bob, she races out of the room, the desperation to be free from my mother's growing ire palpable in the air.

If only I could run away with her.

"You know my rules when it comes to men. So tell me, who is it? Who's the bastard?"

"Please, Mother. There is no one."

"Out of that gown. We will know the truth soon enough. Put on a night dress and lie down on the bed."

"It really is the water," I plead, needing to make her see reason. "You've had me drinking bottle after bottle. I'm nearly ill with it."

"Ill? From water? I've never heard such a thing. Water can't make you sick. I swear, if you've let some filthy, low born Alpha plant his seed in you, I'm casting you out of this house forever. Astencourts do not mix with commoners."

"No one has even touched me. How can I be pregnant? I go to an all-girl school. I don't stay out late with friends. You know where I am all the time."

My fingers tremble as I tug on the nightgown and make my way to the bed. No matter how I try to make her see reason, she refuses to. With arms crossed and her face pulled down into a ferocious frown, she's a formidable foe I have no hope of winning against.

"And that's why you sent all the servants away while we were gone? Don't think I don't know you and your little tricks. You always were a tricky child. Why else do you think we locked away the treats? If I didn't put a stop to it, you would have stuffed your face and garnered a craving for sweets. Always flitting around telling your father some sob story to get him to give in to you. Spoiled. That's what you are. As if water can actually make you ill. Bah."

"Please. You have to-"

"I have to nothing. Until I know you're not pregnant, I don't have to listen to a word you say. You know the rules of this house."

"There's been no one," I croak, tears forming in my eyes.

Unfortunately, my mind goes to Branson. It is a lie, but just a small one. He still didn't do anything to get me pregnant. Did he? He said no one would know. Having a baby makes it where everyone would know.

Minutes tick by while Mother paces back and forth, barely even looking at me. I don't know how she knows, but somehow, she must. Only, I don't want to open my mouth and remove all doubt, just in case.

Finally, an older beta male pushes into the room, his pale, milky eyes taking on a sheen of concern behind his thick glasses. "Is everything all right? I was told it was an emergency."

"She's pregnant. I'm sure of it. The little whore denies it, but she's gained weight, feels ill, and is bloated and puffy." My mouth drops open as she calls me such a mean name in front of the doctor, but she doesn't seem to care.

With a soft smile, he pats her on the hand. "There now, a lot of things can cause these symptoms without it being pregnancy." His lips part into a wide grin as he turns his gaze to me. "Have you slept with a man unprotected?"

"Never," I cry out. "The only one to sleep in this bed is me."

He clears his throat and looks over at my mother. "That is to say," he amends. "I don't mean actually sleeping next to a man. Have you engaged in carnal activities? Has he inserted himself into you?"

Blood drains from my face as I lie there trembling. "Th- The EMT who inspected me-"

"I knew it," my mother shrieks, tossing her hands into the air. "You did whore yourself out."

"I didn't mean to. I- He- I don't understand how he could have gotten me pregnant."

Doctor Jamie sits beside me and takes my hand in his. "Calm yourself. I'm sure you would have known if he forced himself upon you. Did he? Did he make you take his... Penis?"

"No!" I screech, sliding up the bed. "I never... He never... His clothes remained on. The entire time. I don't think I can get pregnant while he's dressed, can I?"

Again, he gives me a soft smile. "That certainly cannot happen."

"Check her," Mother spits out. "If she's not pregnant, I want proof."

With a soft sigh, he pulls out the same odd little apparatus the EMT had. Only this time, he takes my thumb and presses it against the pad. I resist the urge to cry out as a tiny needle jabs me so quickly I barely have time to jerk my hand away.

We all sit there for what feels like eternity as he watches the screen. "Not pregnant," he finally announces. "But I don't like the look of your levels. Your sodium is far too low. Your other electrolytes seem off as well. Are you drinking enough water?"

"Gallons," my mother supplies. "So this so-called imbalance is incorrect. As long as my daughter is not pregnant, she's in the peak of physical health."

"Not according to my readouts," he counters. "Gallons? I think you're drinking far too much water. That can certainly lead to you looking puffy and swollen. Maybe lower it down to a few liters? I know young women want to be as healthy as possible, but everything in moderation, hmmm?"

Off to the side, Mother purses her lips as she crosses her arms. Never to be the first one to admit she's wrong, I let her have this little tantrum without saying a word. Besides, it wouldn't do any good, anyway.

Doctor Jamie pulls out a syringe and thumps his fingers against the glass. "This should have you feeling a bit better. For the most part, it will help level out your electrolytes."

I squint my eyes shut, not wanting to see the needle as he puts it in. Thankfully, it's not nearly as painful as I first anticipated. In fact, it's nothing like the delicious agony Branson caused me. Not that I need to be thinking of him. Especially not with this old man and my mother sitting next to me.

"If there's nothing else..."

"Check her."

"Pardon?" he asks, his thick brows furrowing.

"Check her. If she's not been with a man, you should be able to see that."

My heart pounds in my chest as he turns around to face down my mother. He said no one would know. He promised me no one would know. Can I really keep it from this doctor if he chooses to examine me?

"You do realize the theory of virgins keeping their hymen intact as long as they don't have sex is a myth. Don't you? There are plenty of ways for a girl to lose it."

"Not Emmeline. She doesn't ride bikes, she doesn't ride horses, she doesn't wear tampons. Shall I continue?"

"But even a hard enough fall..." he trails off, his voice becoming weaker as my mother stares him down. "Some girls are not even born with one," he amends, doing his best to appease her.

"It was there on her last gynecological exam. Check. Her."

The doctor looks at me, his gaze sympathetic as he pats my thigh. "Best to get this over with. Knees up, legs spread. Just like you would for your yearly exam."

Heat floods my face as mortification and fear coalesce into a living, breathing thing squirming around in my chest. Unlike with Branson, I feel no sense of arousal, no burning need to have him touch me. Thankfully, my body responds in kind, staying a lot drier than I was with the sexy EMT.

I turn my head away so I can't watch as he slides the hem of my nightgown up my thighs to expose my body to his gaze. If only he'd purr. But of course, I probably shouldn't even know what a purr is, much less ask for one. It's not fair. I should be allowed some sort of assistance through this.

His dry, weathered fingers graze my lower lips as he spreads me out. Bile rises in my throat, threatening to choke me as he opens me up. I want to scream, to beg him to stop, to make my mother see reason, but I can't. All of it is stuck, unable to come out.

"She's intact."

"You're sure?" At my mother's gasp of surprise, I can't help the smile easing across my lips.

They couldn't tell. Branson was right, after all. So many doors open for me, granting me possibilities I never before considered available to me.

As the doctor lowers my gown, he turns to her. "I've examined enough patients in my day to know if she's intact or not. I'm shocked, seeing as she's old enough to no longer have one, but there you have it. Not pregnant and still a virgin. Anything else you need from me? Or am I free to go home?"

"That is all."

"Very well. And make sure she moderates her water."

Instead of answering him, she glares at me, as if all of this is my fault. Then again, it is my fault, just maybe not in the way she thinks. "Get dressed. Dinner is in thirty minutes. Do not be late."

Alphas sit all around the table, surrounding me with their musky scents. All of them intermingle, becoming one conglomeration that sets my skull to pounding. Coffee, dark chocolate, pine, citrus, and other smells I can't define fill the space, nearly choking me.

As much as I hate to admit it, right now, I'd rather just smell the leather coated in dark whiskey that clung to Branson when he was in my room. Anything but them. They watch me as I eat, all eyes boring into me as if I harbor some secret they're trying to ferret out.

They all keep up the conversation well enough, charming Father with intelligent jokes and anecdotes—the rich amusing the rich. Try as I might, I do my best to stay interested in the conversation, behaving like a proper lady should act. It's all so dull and boring, though. Things I've heard my whole life.

Thankfully, none of them stay far past when dinner and dessert are concluded. Weariness slams into me as I make my way up the stairs.

"Emmeline," Mother calls out to me. "Hopefully one of those gentlemen caught your eye. It would do well for you to match with them. I think more dinners where you can be in their presence, you know, allowing your genetic makeup to be molded by them, will help. The sooner the government matches you, the happier you will be."

"More like the happier you will be," I mutter under my breath as she walks away.

Peeling off my dress, I make my way to the shower, needing desperately to wash the Alphas off of me. A heavy sigh slips through my lips as I lean against the warm tile and let the water pound against my sore muscles. As I close my eyes, all I can think about is Branson.

His eyes were kind. Even when I seemed to upset him, he never actually made me feel bad. If anything, he made me feel far better than anyone ever has before.

Biting down on my lower lip, I bring my hand down to my pussy as he called it. They weren't able to tell. This means I can touch myself, and no one will ever know. Spreading my thighs, I groan as the warm water slides over my body, dripping across the sensitive skin of my lower lips.

I do my best to mimic his movements, rubbing my clit as he did. Pleasure blossoms over me, robbing me of breath. Granted, it's not quite as good as when he touched me, but it relieves the growing ache building deep inside.

Under the roar of the water, I stroke myself, picturing his intense eyes and gentle yet unyielding voice as he touched me. My bottom hole aches, clenching on nothing as I continue to rub the insistent bundle of nerves. Soft moans flit through my gritted teeth as I do my best to concentrate, holding the massive Alpha in my mind's eye.

With a gasp, my orgasm bursts through me, causing me to slam my palm against the tile as I try not to cry out and alert others to my actions. Whimpering, I buck my hips back and forth, riding out the pleasure. "Branson," I whisper out into the emptiness, feeling so alone and bereft as I come down off the transient high.

Reality crashes in on me as I finish cleaning up and prepare for bed. Girls like me don't marry Alphas like him. Mother had it right. I'll be nothing but arm candy to a rich, influential Alpha, a mere decoration, and nothing more.