Page 207 of Bliss & Her Idols

A dozen college aged Betas,who are dressed in the same black joggers and tops to Jin, are lined in neat ranks with their hair scraped back from their heads with clips. It’s not hard to imagine when Jin had once been just like them.

They’re standing eerily motionless.

I stiffen with a combination of rage and anxiety, when I notice the twins in the room.

Despite the fact that they’re teaching, they’re still wearing suave suits with pearly white waistcoats.

They’ve dropped the faked good humor, however, and now simply look mean and intimidating.

What I guess to be Aran, the dance coach, strides up and down the ranks of students.

Devin leans against the wall, twirling a broken guitar string in his hand.

Jin’s gaze is instantly drawn to the guitar string.

He flinches.

“Do you remember the time that we kept the class up for two days straight, until they got the routine right?” Aran glances at his brother.

“Yes, yes!” Devin laughs like it’s a fantastic joke. Except, the scared whimpers from the Idols show that they don’t think it’s funny. “In the end, they were sobbing, and begging, and several fainted. Then this one kid—”

“Pissed himself.” Aran gleefully grins. “Wait, wasn’t it the nation’s favorite bad boy, Ice Dragon? We have to tell that story at the next family breakfast.”

Jin’s shoulders hunch. His cheeks redden.

This is how Jin was trained…?

I should have known, but it still hurts to hear.

“So,” Aran barks, loudly enough to make the Idols jump, “if you don’t want that to be the type of story I tell aboutyou, when you’re winning your first Grammy, get this fucking routine right.Now.”

Instantly, the Idols leap into a complex dance routine.

It looks perfect to me, breathtaking, but Aran howls with rage.

“Stop,stop. The rhythm is all wrong, you fucking useless pieces of shit. How many times? You’re all on food restrictionsfor three days.” He dives into the terrified ranks, grabbing a girl by her hair and pulling her to the floor. “BlamethisIdol. Devin?”

“My pleasure.” Devin pushes away from the wall with a casual shrug.

Jin’s fingers are now white against the glass.

Torin cusses under his breath.

My brow furrows.

What’s about to happen?

Then I slam my own palm against the glass, when I realize what the guitar string is for the moment that Devin swings it above his shoulder ready to slash it down across the Idol’s shoulders.

Devin misses, however, slamming it against the floor beside the Idol’s head, as she screams.

Then he laughs.

“Why are you so scared? Haven’t wet yourself, have you? Can’t you take some teasing?” Devin crouches down, brushing the hair back from the girl’s tear drenched face. “Hey, don’t cry. Why don’t you come and see me after practice, and I’ll make it up to you, hmm?”

“I’m going to snap his cock off,” Torin hisses.

Only if I don’t first.

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