Page 193 of Bliss & Her Idols

The only people who have made me things before are Piper, who is always inventing new coffee drinks for me, and my best friend, Lionzio, with his wolf clip.

This is how I know that my Alpha isn’t cold hearted.

This is how I know that he’s family.

Both Torin’s relief and pride surge through the bond, as he ducks his head and begins to play.

The song is breathtakingly beautiful.

It’s the flickering flame that Torin hides in his heart — his love that warms us — beneath his icy exterior.

Jin’s eyes are as wide as mine are.

I can’t move. Look away.Breathe.

Torin is an incredible musician. It doesn’t matter that he can’t sing as well as Jin can.

Torin’s song weaves a spell around us in the darkness of the room, in the world that we’ve created beneath the sheet and under the light of the stars.

It’s a world that I never want to leave.

Unexpectedly, the spell is broken.

A bubblegum pink nailed hand buries itself in Torin’s hair and yanks him back away from the entrance of the fort.

Taken by surprise, he breaks off playing. He hisses with pain.

I freeze.

We’d all been so lost in the song that we missed the footfalls, as well as the acrid, charred tea stench of angry Alpha.

I gag.

Fighting my Omega instincts to cringe back from the threat or submit, however, I scramble out of the fort at the same time as Jin and Cricket do.

The wine is spilled, staining the pillows blood-red.

I stare up in horror at the small Alpha in her fifties, who is holding the taller man by his hair.

It must be Philomena.

I feel sick.

Torin’s Head Alpha is back.

Philomena looks the most similar to Torin of all his siblings with thick, black hair, which is only just turning to gray, falling to her shoulders.

She’s attractive with sharp cheekbones and cold blue eyes.

She’s dressed in a business suit, which matches her pink nails.

The pink is the only sweet thing about her.

Philomena’s expression is dark with fury. Her dominance radiates from her in waves, which are enough to make my knees buckle, when I try to stand up.

Rory is skulking behind Philomena with his head ducked. But I can still see that his cheek is as bruised as his eye.

He’s avoiding looking at any of us.

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