Page 2 of Bound to the Chef

“Yes,” I hiccup, “but that was when we both hoped it would never happen. But now it’s here and-”

“And,” he rests his finger against my lips. “We will get through it. You are mine, love. Mine to command, mine to control, and unfortunately, mine to order to leave and get ready for your wedding.”

“But-” This time, he spears me with that dark glare of his, the one that makes his stormy gray eyes turn molten.

“There are no buts here. I can’t see you if you’re in prison. You have to leave in order to keep yourself safe and out of the hands of the Governing Body. You may not pay attention to the news, but I do. Their reach is getting far more vast, and I don’t want you at the end of their machinations. So, you will do this. I’m ordering you, not as your boss or even as your lover. As your Master, you will go. Afterward, we will see what can be done.”

“Yes, Sir,” I cry out, my body shaking as I force myself to pull away. “Who knows? Maybe this man doesn’t want to marry either and is happy to live in a platonic relationship?”

He pauses for a moment, saying nothing, but his eyes say everything. There’s something he’s trying not to give voice to. I can feel it. But in an instant, it’s gone, replaced by his normal rigid demeanor.

“There’s no way in hell any man, Alpha or beta, can look at you and want to keep things platonic.” Leaning forward, he scoops me back into his arms, squeezing me tightly for just a moment.

However, it’s the soft kiss on the forehead that nearly makes me sob again. “You’ll make a beautiful bride, my precious Rhylee. I just know it. Now go on before I drag you into my office and refuse to let you leave.”

Forcing myself to move, I get my car keys and gather my meager belongings before heading out the door. No doubt the people getting me ready have seen the gamut of emotions from their brides before, but deep in my heart, I feel as if I’m the only one about to go in there and tear everything to bits. I can’t allow myself to feel these emotions, however.

It won’t reflect well on my Master. Above all, I must remember my place, even if I’m with someone else. What I do is a mirror of him and his values. He wouldn’t want me to cause a scene.

And so, with my heart the heaviest it’s ever been, I make my way to the wedding venue. Honestly, for the first time, I actually wish there was traffic. That way, I would have an excuse for foregoing all the fuss about me and this damned dress.

I don’t care if they outfit me in a paper bag or a potato sack. This marriage is a sham and shouldn’t have the same finery or frippery of a real wedding. Though it may be binding in the eyes of the law, it holds no merit in my heart.

* * *

The gown is lovely.I have to at least admit that much. Running my fingers down the supple fabric, I look at myself in the mirror, demanding my tears to stay at bay. If I’m going to ruin my makeup, I want the groom at least to bear witness, to know just how much this marriage is killing me.

Women bustle about behind me, but I pay them no mind. Their bright smiles and cheery air about them do nothing to assuage the misery threading through my veins. Glancing over at the jewelry, I make my final decision, no longer able to drag things out.

Opting for a simple pair of pearl earrings and a silver chain ending in one large orb, I give myself a last look over before turning to the door. The workers beam at me, gushing about how beautiful I am and what a terrific bride I will make. I want to slap them, all of them.

There’s no way their emotions or words are real. Perhaps it’s some new, infuriating bit of technology that’s so lifelike, no one can tell the difference. I’d like to think normal human people would see just how wrong this all was and not be happy and cheerful. Clenching my fingers at my side, I resist the urge to pinch one of them to see if it’s skin or some synthetic substitute covering a metal frame.

They know nothing. They understand nothing. It’s as if the Governing Body made clones of people to walk about acting as if all of this was okay. In some ways, I wish itwassome advanced technology. Maybe then they’d be able to find a better way of ensuring better birth rates than pairing up the most genetically optimal people they can find.

As it is, we’re still forced to do this dog and pony show, somehow making better Alphas and omegas to rise above the wreckage the virus wrought upon us. What’s to say some new variant won’t come through and turn us all back to normal? If a virus can create Alphas and omegas, can’t it turn all of us back to betas?

Maybe instead of forcing marriages, the Governing Body should put more work into equalizing the dynamics. Honestly, it would be a much better use of everyone’s time. Then again, if I’m being one hundred percent truthful, I love the dynamic shift between Master Jason and me.

Would the sex and dominance be just as good if we were both betas? I’d like to think so, but practically speaking, his knot drives me absolutely wild. I’d definitely miss that if the Governing Body were to somehow turn us all back to normal.

I’m mentally stalling. I know I am. I’m finding any and everything else to think about to avoid contemplating my future. I know what Master Jason said, and I know he won’t think less of me if this groom and I have sex. ButI’llthink less of me.

It will feel like I gave up and didn’t even try to resist. Inside, I know it would eat me alive. No matter what, after we say, “I do,” everything will change. I just know it.

Gripping the flowers the pod person hands to me, I take in a deep breath and fill my thoughts with Master Jason. I can get through this if he’s in my mind. The first tear threatens to fall.

At my side, the women smile and shake their heads, their expressions almost saccharine, as if they think it’s sweet I’m tearing up. “You’re a beautiful bride,” one of them says as she holds the door open.

It mirrors what Master Jason said to me, and I almost lose it. Breathing deeply, I focus on putting one foot in front of the other. My vision blurs as I make my way through the long corridors, pausing as I get to the corner.

Soft piano music fills the air, swelling as I hover at that first step. I can do it. I have to do this. One foot in front of the other. That’s all I have to do.

I take a step and a breath. Peeking around, I look at the Alpha standing at the front, his back turned to me. His shoulders are so broad, so familiar. Is there a chance I know this Alpha? Would that make it worse or better?

Next step. The music gets louder as if each movement forward hastens its crescendo. An odd itch invades my body as I long to rip the dress from me and flee. It’s not my heat. This is terror, pure and simple.

The next steps are like agony as I force myself to move. But then, everything shifts. A familiar smell tingles my nose, giving me more hope than I have any right to have. Despite the officiant motioning me forward, I stop several feet away, unable to move any further.

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