Page 22 of Bliss & Her Idols

What the fuck is he going to tell me?

“It’s just me here, your best friend worrying that you’re about to tell me that your pack are serial killers…or politicians.”

When he laughs, it’s adorably sweet.

Then he chirps.

I blink.

Did Cricket truly just chirp?

Only feral Omegas normally chirp.

Is he isolated…traumatized enough…to be on the edge of becoming feral?

An Omega?

My breathing speeds up.

I stroke over the blanket, wishing that it was Cricket’s soft skin.

We’ve built our friendship for a year without needing to meet in real life and know each other’s dynamics. But now that I’m tantalizingly close to discovering the truth, I’m desperate to know whether he’s my male Omega.

“I’m sorry.” Cricket sounds embarrassed. “I sound stupid when I chirp.”

“You don’t.” I lick over my dry lips.

I wish that I could tell him just how much I loved his chirp. If he was here, it would have made me kiss down his neck.

I can’t resist purring quietly.

“Are you purring, Bee?” Cricket perks up.

I blush. “Talking to you always makes me happy.”

And your voice sounds even cuter than I’d hoped — dreamed.

Yet someone has taught Cricket that his chirping isstupidand something to be apologized for.

What has pushed Cricket to the limits of being feral?

Is this why he struggles with his social anxiety in real life?

Sadness washes over me, and my purring cuts off. “What’s the secret? Can you tell me, Crick, while your family are out?”

I’ve never been more pleased that I allowed my protective and paranoid friend Lionzio to trace Cricket’s IP address. It wasn’t easy, since Cricket is hiding it even more than I am. Lionzio has his own skills, however, from his time growing up in a mafia pack.

At least I know that Cricket lives deep in the forests on the outskirts of town. I’d be a wreck, if I didn’t even have a clue where he was.

“It’s about Jin,” Cricket declares excitedly because of course it is.

Cricket is the only person who I’ve found who is more obsessed with the Beta than I am.

I push myself to lie on my back.

I stare up at the ceiling and the mural that I painted between the beams: Jin from his first American tour.

I couldn’t afford the tickets back then for Jin’s concert but I watched it online. I smile, studying the painting.

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