Page 22 of Omega's Faith

The threat lands like ice water and I’m reminded why I registered in the first place. A conservatorship would mean losing everything—my freedom, my money, my life. At least with marriage I keep some autonomy.

Some.Until the first time I have one drink too many or stay out too late or do anything that doesn't fit the great love story.

Then it'll be headlines about the failing marriage, about how I'm corrupting sweet innocent Jonah, about how I can't even make it work with my perfect match.

"Make an effort," she says. "That's all I ask."

She glides away, leaving me alone with the truth. This marriage is just another cage. A prettier one, maybe, with a beautiful omega who hates me and smells like heaven, but still a cage.

But more than that—and this is the fucked up part—I can'tstop myself from touching him. I know I shouldn't. Every touch is just tightening the noose around my neck.

He hates me. He makes it clear with every glare, every "Yes, Alpha" dripping with disdain. And somehow that makes it worse. I'm going to be married to someone who can't stand me.

At least the people I usually fuck pretend to like me for the duration.

"Places!" Shar calls.

Jonah returns to the blanket, careful to maintain distance.

"Let's try something different," I say, shifting closer.

"What are you—"

I slide my hand into his hair. Soft, like I knew it would be. His breath catches.

"Relax," I murmur, pitched low so only he can hear. "Unless you want another forty minutes of this?"

He swallows hard. "I don't—"

"Trust me?"

"Not even a little."

I grin. "Clever boy."

His pretty lips curl up in annoyance. “Do you have to be so patronising?”

“No, but it’s so much fun.” But I gentle my touch, fingers carding through dark strands. His eyes flutter closed for just a second before he catches himself.

"Beautiful!" Shar shouts. "Hold that!"

Cameras click. I keep my hand in Jonah's hair, thumb brushing his temple. His scent is a living thing now, wrapping around us both.

"Lean into him, Jonah!" Marcus directs.

Jonah's jaw clenches. But he shifts, letting his shoulder touch mine. The contact burns through both our shirts.

"More! You're in love!"

I turn his face toward mine, fingers still tangled in his hair."Play along, church mouse."

"I hate you," he breathes.

"I know." I lean closer, until our foreheads almost touch. "But you want me anyway."

His pupils blow wide. "You're delusional."

"Am I?"