Page 31 of Omega's Faith
A muscle jumps in Jonah's jaw at 'honor and obey.' But he lifts his chin, meeting my gaze.
"I do."
Simple words. They shouldn't affect me this much. But something in the way he says them makes my chest constrict.
We exchange rings with hands that shake slightly.
“By the power vested in me by God and the state," Pastor White pronounces, raising his arms, "I now pronounce you alpha and omega, husband and husband."
The ballroom holds its breath.
"You may kiss your husband."
This is it. The moment that will be splashed across every magazine and gossip site in the country.
I step closer to Jonah, close enough to see the flecks of gold in his eyes, to smell the vanilla sweetness that's driving me slowlyinsane. His lips part slightly, anticipation and nerves warring in his expression.
It's supposed to be chaste. A quick press of lips for the cameras, nothing more. Diana made that clear.
But the moment our mouths touch, everything goes to hell.
Heat explodes between us like napalm. Jonah makes a small, surprised sound that goes straight to my cock, and suddenly I'm drowning in honey and desire and the overwhelming need to claim.
My hands find his waist, pulling him closer. He melts against me like he was made for this, made for me, his own hands fisting in my jacket. The kiss deepens, all pretense of propriety.
Camera flashes erupt around us like fireworks, but I barely notice. All I can focus on is Jonah—the taste of him, the way he trembles against me, the little gasps he makes when I bite gently at his bottom lip.
This is insane. We're in front of a thousand people, being photographed by every major media outlet, and all I want to do is pin him against the nearest wall and show him exactly what kind of alpha he just married.
When we finally break apart, we're both breathing hard. Jonah's eyes are dark, pupils blown wide with arousal. His lips are swollen from my kisses, his carefully styled hair mussed where my fingers tangled in it.
The ballroom erupts in applause, but it sounds muffled, distant. Like we're underwater and everyone else is on the surface.
Jonah stares at me with something that might be shock and all I can think is that of all the messes I’ve got myself into in my life, this has to be the worst.
8. Jonah
People descend on me the moment we enter the reception, a swarm of designer suits and cocktail dresses, each one wanting their moment with the new Mr. Colborne. That's what they keep calling me—Mr. Colborne—like I've ceased to exist as Jonah Wells.
Crystal chandeliers drip from the ceiling like frozen waterfalls. Gold-leafed walls reflect the light until everything glows with an otherworldly shimmer. Round tables draped in white silk scatter across the floor, centerpieces of white roses so elaborate they look like small gardens.
"Darling!" A woman in emerald green air-kisses both my cheeks, her perfume thick enough to choke on. "I sit on the board with Diana. You're absolutely precious! Where did Alexander find you?"
Like I'm a collectible he picked up at an estate sale.
"The Omega Match Bureau," I say, trying not to sound as overwhelmed as I feel.
She laughs, a tinkling sound that sets my teeth on edge. "Of course! But really, where areyoufrom? Your people, I mean."
My people. Like we're a different species.
"The Faith Heritage Fellowship," I manage.
"How quaint!" She's already looking past me, searching for someone more interesting. "You must tell me all about it sometime."
She drifts away before I can respond, replaced immediately by an older man with silver hair and calculating eyes.
"Pleasure to meet you young man," he announces, pumping my hand with corporate enthusiasm. "I run acquisitions for Colborne Industries. Let’s hope you keep our Alexander in check."