Page 141 of Bliss & Her Idols

I’m struggling to tell the difference between reality and the disturbing images, which may be fleeting dreams, from the couple of seconds when I fall asleep.

I can’t control it.

Sleep deprivation sucks.

With his medical condition, Cricket needs his sleep. I made sure to run him a hot bath and hide just how much I was breaking inside, as we kissed and nuzzled, while he bathed.

Then Torin dried Cricket with a fluffy towel, before dressing him in a pair of thePBmonogrammed violet pajamas, which the show’s staff had left for us to wear.

I built up our bed with pillows and blankets into a nest. I wished that we had some of Jin’s clothes to add to it. I needed his scent desperately.

I envy how quickly Cricket falls asleep.

Except as I stroked Cricket’s cheek, tucking the blanket more firmly around him, I wondered whether he only slept like this because he was more exhausted than he’d show the rest of us.

How much does his Omegaosis drain him?Hurt him?

How much is Cricket hiding? Does he think that he’s protecting us from the truth?

I tucked Cricket’s damp hair away from his face, tracing over his jaw.

He was such a beautiful man inside and out. Yet he didn’t know it.

All he could feel was the weight of the Rej bracelet around his wrist.

I gritted my teeth.

Torin was watching us both with a searching look like he was trying to figure something out.

Then he marched to me, agitated.

“You know that neither of us will be able to sleep, while our Beta is with that psycho Omega, Easter,” he whispered. “How about we go for an explore of the lodge? Just an innocent walk. It’s not like we’ll be searching for Jin’s date to spy on it or anything.”

That was precisely what we’d be doing.

“We’re not meant to leave our rooms,” I replied.

“Is that a rule?” Torin tilted his head. “I don’t remember being told that I couldn’t go out for air if I needed it.”

Now, I’m pacing this corridor as a lookout, while Torin searches deeper into the main lodge.

I’ve pulled on a simple leather skirt with plain white top. I didn’t bother to drag panties or shoes on.

My hair hangs loose and tangled over my face because I keep running my hands nervously through it.

“Come on, Tor,” I mutter.

My stomach is tied in knots.

I cross my arms over my chest, hugging myself.

My men, the same as me, are independent. They don’t take help easily because they’ve been alone and fighting their own battles.

Surviving.

But we’re a pack now. I’ve been figuring out how to accept that myself.

One thing I know is that means none of us are going to face danger without the rest of us standing at their shoulder.

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