Page 35 of Omega's Faith

"And yet here we are."

"Here you are indeed." She studies me over her champagne glass. "You know, if you ever need any advice about... well, anything really, please reach out. I know all his little secrets." She winks. "Where he's ticklish, how he takes his coffee... the important things in a marriage."

The offer sounds genuine but there's something underneath it, like a snake hidden in tall grass.

"That's... kind of you."

"I mean it." She squeezes my hand. "Alex can be... complicated. Intense. But underneath all that armor, he's actually quite sensitive. You just have to know how to reach him."

"And you know how?"

"I did once." For a moment, something sad flickers across her perfect features. "But that was a long time ago. Ancient history." She brightens again. "You're his future now. Lucky you!"

Before I can respond, she's gliding away.

The older guests start leaving around ten, including Pastor David, who looks pale and overwhelmed.

"Jonah." He takes my hands in his papery ones near the exit. "I'm praying for you, son. This is your trial, your test. You must bring light to this darkness."

I want to tell him there's no bringing light here. This place swallows light whole. But I just nod, accepting his blessing because it's easier than arguing.

My family leaves shortly after, each of them hugging me tight like they're saying goodbye to someone going off to war.

"Call me," Mom whispers. "Every day if you need to."

"We're proud of you," Dad adds, though he looks like he's aged ten years since this morning.

After they leave, Diana turns to me. "The car for you and Alexander will arrive in thirty minutes. The estate is prepared for your arrival. Ricky will let you know when it’s here. Make sure you don’t leave without security." She checks her phone. "I must go. Congratulations again, Jonah. Welcome to the family."

And then she's gone too, leaving me alone in this sea of strangers.

I find a place at a table in the corner to sit and wait for the car.

Thirty minutes pass. Then forty. Then an hour.

The reception begins to transform into something else entirely. Waves of champagne come out, brought by bow-tied waiters, then bottles of harder alcohol.

The music pounds, bass heavy enough to feel in my bones. People grind on the dance floor, inhibitions dissolved in alcohol and privilege.

Alex is in the center of it all, tie completely undone, shirt partially unbuttoned, laughing at something someone is saying. Even disheveled and drunk, he's magnetic, drawing every eye in the room.

I walk up to him on the dance floor, doing my best to avoid the crush of bodies.

"The car hasn't come," I tell him, having to shout over the music.

"What?" He leans closer, and I can smell the alcohol on his breath mixed with his pine-and-whiskey scent. My body responds immediately, that traitorous heat pooling low in my belly.

"The car Diana arranged. It hasn't come."

"Oh, that." He waves dismissively. "I canceled it."

"You... what?"

"Canceled it. The night's just getting started!"

Suddenly his hands are on my waist, pulling me flush against him. The full body contact sends electricity shooting through me, and I can feel how much he wants me, hard and insistent against my hip.

"Come on, church mouse," he murmurs, his voice different now—warm, almost affectionate. "Let your hair down a little. Dance with me properly this time."