Chapter 5 Alex #2
"Or what?"
"Or the board finds another solution to your... problem." Her smile could cut glass. "Perhaps a conservatorship. Or mandatory rehab. Again. Would you prefer that to marriage to a sweet little omega?"
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't stop 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?"
I shift my hand, thumb stroking along his jaw. He shivers—full body, impossible to hide. The cameras go crazy.
"Gorgeous! The chemistry! More of that!"
We spend twenty minutes in variations of touching. My hand in his hair, on his waist, fingers interlaced with his. Each touch sparks reactions he can't control—scent spikes, shivers, those little gasps that make me want to push harder.
By the time Shar calls for us to change wardrobe again for the family shots, Jonah looks wrecked.
He’s flushed and glassy-eyed. His honey scent is so thick it's choking. He practically runs to his parents when released and I can’t help feeling a little guilty.
He doesn’t want to be here, same as me. Still, it’s his own fault.
He could try talking to me like a person instead of looking at me like he thinks I’m the devil.
Once we’re both in a new set of clothes, Diana herds us all to the rose garden. This used to be my mother’s place. She’d loved roses. I have a team of gardeners who maintain it, but other than them, I don’t think anyone has visited it in years.
It's a good, nauseatingly romantic place for the final, formal photos.
Jonah's parents try their best, but they're clearly overwhelmed. Pastor White glares at me from the sidelines like I'm personally responsible for all the world's sin.
Probably not that wrong. Maybe only ninety percent.
Still, we all force ourselves to grin and look as if we are all hyped up on whatever drugs Jonah thinks I ingest with my cornflakes.
"Just the couple next," Shar says. Jonah's parents start to step back, but his father clears his throat.
"Could we..." He looks uncomfortable. "Could we get one photo with Pastor David? For the church newsletter?"
The pastor hasn't stopped glaring since he arrived. The last thing I want is his judgmental face in my photos but it’s not like I’m going to be given a choice.
"Yes," Diana says smoothly. "What a lovely idea. It shows Alexander embracing Jonah's spiritual side."
I open my mouth to argue but she gives me a look. "Smile, darling."
So I stand there, fake smile plastered on, while Pastor White is positioned beside us. He's rail-thin and radiating disapproval. He leans close as Shar adjusts the shot.
"I pray for your salvation, young man," he says quietly. "That you might find your way to righteousness."
Asshole.
"Big smiles!" Shar calls.
I bare my teeth. Jonah stands between us, tension radiating from every line of his body. The shutter clicks.
"Beautiful! Now just the couple!"
Pastor White steps away, but not before giving me one last look of condemnation. I want to tell him to fuck off, that his precious omega isn't as innocent as he thinks and I’m not that evil.
I’ve never killed anyone, never forced anyone. All I do is party too hard, dance too much, drink too much, fuck around a lot. With the exception of the pool noodle incident, I’ve never hurt anyone and that wasn’t evil. It was just stupidity.
But then Jonah's back in my space and coherent thought becomes difficult.
"Against the arbor," Shar directs. "Alexander behind, arms around him. Like you're protecting him from the world."
I position myself as directed, arms sliding around Jonah's waist. He goes rigid.
"Relax," I murmur against his ear. "Almost done."
"Easy for you to say." His voice shakes. "You're not the one being pawed at."
"You like being pawed at."
He starts to protest but I pull him back against my chest. The full body contact shorts out his brain. I feel it in the way he melts, just for a second, before catching himself.
"I can't," he whispers.
"Can't what?"
"Any of this. The pictures, the wedding, you."
His honesty catches me off guard. For a moment, the game drops away and I see him clearly. He’s young, overwhelmed, trapped in a situation he never asked for.
Just like me.
"Three weeks," I find myself saying. "We get through three weeks of this. Then..."
"Then what?" He turns in my arms, looking up at me. "Then we're married. Bound for life. You think it gets easier after that?"
No. Then I'll have a husband who wishes he was anywhere else.
"Then we're both fucked," I say honestly.
His eyes widen at my bluntness. "So why are you doing this?"
"Same reason you are. No choice." I brush a strand of hair from his face because I can't help myself, even though I know it's stupid. "Except you get to be the good one who’s trying to save me. I get to be the fuck-up."
"I don't want to save you."
"No?" I lean closer. "Then what do you want?"
"To wake up from this nightmare."
The honesty of it slams into me. Of course that's what he wants. Why would anyone want to be tied to me?
I move closer to him, pull him against the hardness that he has inspired and the scent of omega slick fills the air. “Nightmare? Doesn’t smell like you think I’m a nightmare.”
"I hate you." He turns, his face close enough to mine that I can feel his breath on my lips and the pure fury in his eyes.
"Perfect!" Shar shouts. "That's the shot! So much passion"
We break apart, both breathing hard. Jonah's lips are parted, eyes dark. He looks thoroughly kissed even though I haven't had my lips on his.
Yet.
"That's a wrap!" Shar announces. "Gorgeous work, everyone!"
The crew immediately starts breaking down equipment. Jonah backs away from me, still looking dazed. His parents approach, his mother taking his arm.
"You did so well, sweetheart," she says. She seems nice. I barely remember my mother. She died when I was little. I remember perfume and the color of her hair but not much else.
The preacher says nothing, just gives me one last condemning look before following them toward their car. Jonah glances back once, something unreadable in his expression.
Then they're gone, leaving me standing among the roses with the taste of honey on my tongue even though I never kissed him.
"Well?" Diana appears at my elbow. "Better than the dinner?"
"He still hates me."
"But he wants you. Everyone can tell." She sounds satisfied. "The photos will be spectacular. Mando Shar is already raving about the chemistry. We’re guaranteed magazine covers."
Chemistry. Is that what we're calling this thing that makes me want to chase him down and pin him against the nearest surface?
I suppose it is. It’s certainly not love.
"The final fitting is Tuesday," Diana continues. "Your official bachelor party is on Wednesday. I’ll be swapping all the drinks for non-alcohol versions. Your dresser will arrive at two p.m. to get you ready. If you even think about having an unofficial party, it’ll be your head."
She clicks away on her heels. I look around at the fake forest. The elaborate set is being deconstructed piece by piece. At least, this particular lie is being taken down. I’m going to get stuck with the marriage.