Page 66 of Bliss & Her Idols

I’m not the type of dumb Omega that Zoe takes me for to sign something without checking it thoroughly first.

But this is about saving Cricket.

I immediately scrawl my name.

Zoe marches to Cricket.

Cricket gives me a searching look.

I nod.

Cricket winces, when his right arm is released. Then he trustingly signs his name as well.

Well, if we have sold ourselves, it’s done now.

I bet Piper is fucking raging. Chase will be memorizing the faces of all three of these Betas.

They’re dead Betas walking.

“Good Omegas,” Zoe says, sickeningly sweet. Then she pulls out my phone and tosses it to me. I clutch it to my chest. Then she barks out an order at the suited men, “take them through tothe friends and pack section of the arena. Don’t allow them to escape anywhere else or it’s your asses, understand?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the men chorus.

Hurriedly, I slip my phone into my pocket, before it can be taken from me again.

The Beta who let go of Cricket to allow him to sign, prowls across the low-ceilinged room to me and grabs me by the scruff of the neck.

I wince, hating that he’s holding me in a dominant way close to my scent gland.

Instinctively, I feel violated.

Only my Alpha should be touching there or the men who I choose to bond with.

“Let go of her.” Cricket struggles. “Please.”

“It’s okay, Crick.” I catch Cricket’s eye, trying to hide how distressed I am. He’s hurting himself by thrashing around. He looks like he’s already pretty bruised. “Let’s just let these nice men escort us, huh?”

Finally, Cricket calms down and nods.

I flinch, as I’m shoved forward.

I’m beginning to feel sick.

Are my jangled Omega nerves catching up on me without an Alpha or an Omega’s pheromones or physical touch to calm them?

Sweat drips down the back of my neck.

I keep my gaze firmly trained on the ground, as Cricket and I are roughly led stumbling through the Knight Amphitheater.

We’re taken through narrow shadowy, back corridors closer to the arena stage. The buzz of thirty thousand people grows louder.

Despite myself, excitement coils through me.

This concert always meant so much to me.

Yet now that I know the real Jin behind his stage creation, Ice Dragon, it means the world.

Finally, Stapleton’s men drag Cricket and me through two heavy oak doors into a small, cordoned off area.

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