Page 7 of Omega's Faith

My head eyes snap open. "What?"

"Think about it." Pastor David leans forward, eyes bright. "Who better to bring a sinner to salvation than someone like you? Devout, patient, pure of heart. This could be your calling, Jonah. Your chance to save a soul."

"I don't want to save him." The words burst out before I can stop them. "I want a normal life. A normal alpha."

"God wouldn't give you more than you can handle."

There it is. The same line I’ve been saying to myself. I know that he is right, but even so I want to scream.

He pats my knee again. “It’s your duty, Jonah. This is what has been chosen for you.”

I don’t answer. I know he is right. I suppose I was hoping for a miracle.

Pastor David's hand lands on my shoulder. "The matching system is part of God's design. To reject it would be to reject His will." He squeezes gently. "But that doesn't mean you face this alone. The church is here for you. I'm here for you."

I nod, trying not to cry.

"I think we should pray," he says and I nod, because what other choice do I have?

We bow our heads. Pastor David's familiar voice washes over me, asking for strength and for guidance, for God to work through me to bring Alexander Colborne to the light. I try to focus on the words but all I can think of are the things that have been said in this very church so many times over the last years. I feel my body start to shake. I am supposed to give myself to this alpha, submit to him. The thought makes me jerk upright, face burning. Pastor David squeezes my shoulder again.

"Amen," he finishes.

"Amen," I echo.

The walk home takes fifteen minutes but feels like hours. The late afternoon sun beats down, making my clothes stick to my skin.

Mom's waiting on the porch when I round the corner. Of course she is. Twenty-one years of being her son and I still can't hide anything from her.

"Jonah?" She's down the steps before I can respond, hands cupping my face. "Sweetheart, what's wrong?"

"I—" The words stick in my throat. Her thumb brushes mycheek and I realize I'm crying. When did that start? "Mom, I—"

"Come inside." She pulls me toward the door. "Whatever it is, we'll handle it together."

The house smells like pot roast and I can hear the noise from the back yard. This deep into summer, we’ve got the paddling pool out and my nieces and nephews are splashing and screaming. Dad's in his recliner, newspaper lowered as we enter. His scent spikes with alarm.

"Son?"

I collapse onto the couch, Mom beside me, her arm around my shoulders. The words tumble out in a rush. "I got the match letter yesterday. I didn't know how to tell you. It's—it's Alexander Colborne."

"The Colborne heir?" Dad's careful tone says everything. “Are you sure?”

Mom's arm tightens around me. "There must be some mistake—"

"Ninety-six percent compatibility. It’s a prime match." I laugh. "Higher than yours and Dad's."

They exchange one of those married people looks, entire conversations in a glance. My parents have been married twenty-eight years, and after all that and six kids, they’re still crazy about each other. They still hold hands during evening walks. I still sometimes see Mom kiss Dad in the kitchen when she thinks none of us are watching.

That'swhat I wanted. What I'd dreamed about since I understood what being an omega meant. Not... whatever Alexander Colborne is offering. Yacht orgies and cocaine breakfasts and whatever crazy nightmare he’s got going this week.

"Maybe..." Mom starts, then stops. Swallows. Tries again. "Maybe there's more to him than what the tabloids show. God has a plan. He wouldn't—"

"Give me more than I can handle." I finish, muffled against her blouse. " Pastor David said the same thing."

The front door bangs open. "We're here!" Corinne's voice carries from the entryway. "Robert stopped to get soft drinks—oh."

She stops short, taking in the scene. Behind her, my brothers crowd in.