Page 101 of Bliss & Her Idols

It would be simple if I could see Torin as no more than my enemy. But then, he accepts the fact that I’m a Reject from a criminal pack like it’s nothing.

As if all that matters is that I grew up loved.

“Same here,” Jin adds.

“And here.” Cricket waves his hand.

My heart swells.

I will not cry.

But I want to.

My brow furrows, as an unsettling thought hits me.

Jin was trained since he was a small kid at the camp. The only adults he knew were instructors, security staff, and supervisors.

I bet none of them loved him or were kind.

But was Torin unconditionally loved like I was?

If his parents died, then that left behind his five older siblings, Philomena, Rory, Una, and the twins.

I know almost nothing about them. Hardly anyone does.

I lick my dry lips. “Also, I was lucky enough to have my brothers. They’ve spent every moment making sure that I felt loved.”

Torin’s expression becomes tight. “Then you’re lucky.”

Well, that answers that.

“What about your brothers and sisters?” This is more information than anyone has found out about the siblings who run the Idol industry. “What are they…?”

Unexpectedly, there’s a noise at the bedroom door, along with the overwhelming burned coffee scent of furious Alpha.

Out of instinct, I shove myself to my knees and growl.

Jin tumbles Cricket off his lap onto the bed next to me, before jumping to his feet to stand protectively in front of Cricket and me.

“Stay behind me.” Torin’s voice is like sheeting ice.

Cricket struggles to push himself up with the same bravery, as if he was twice his actual size.

My heart is speeding. My pulse is roaring in my ears.

The door bangs open, slamming against the far wall.

An Alpha marches into the bedroom like it’s his room. In fact, as if the entire hotel is owned by him.

He’s shockingly pretty for an Alpha, slim and elegant with dirty blond curls. He looks to be in his early thirties. His eyes are green and cat-like. He’s dressed in a designer charcoal gray suit with a silk emerald handkerchief tucked into his suit pocket.

Who the hell is he?

Despite smelling like he’s in a rage, he’s holding himself tightly coiled.

It’s an impressive level of control.

The Alpha’s contemptuous gaze sweeps the room, lingering for a moment on Cricket and me.

---