Page 102 of Evan and the Alpha

“Get him up,” Min orders, and Ge-Ro and Vince waste no time. Darwin hastily packs his bag back up and hauls it toward the tent. Min follows them all, arms folded, a sour look on her face.

I’m terrified Evan is going to die.

Yafir sidles a little closer. “Sobek,” he says.

I glance down at him.

“You’ve never held a baby before, have you?”

I look back at my grasp on our hatchling, who dangles from my arms. I glare at Yafir, who giggles and corrects my hold. The baby shudders, then coughs and cries, curling in against me. I rub his back.

Yafir peers down at him. “He’s very small.”

He is. I didn’t expect him to be this small. From the way Evan talked, I thought human infants were larger.

“He seems cold,” I say, watching him shiver as I stroke a hand down him. He’s cool to the touch.

“I’ll get a blanket,” Yafir says, then steps away.

The baby coughs again, then turns in my arms, extending first one arm and then one leg. He draws his limbs in again and turns his head, pressing his scrunched little face against my bare chest.

I frown when he starts … kissing me, like Evan does. Yafir returns with the blanket, and we swaddle him tightly. I turn him back to my chest and he keeps pressing his lips against me, then complaining.

I should have known Evan’s offspring would be like this.

Vince emerges from the tent, then holds up his hands when Yafir and I look at him expectantly. “Not done yet,” he says. “I just got kicked out—I’m not a good nurse, I guess.”

He wanders closer, leaning in to peer at the baby. “Aw, hey there. You’re pretty cute, actually.”

I bristle. Cute isn’t precisely a desirable quality among the kroakka. Vince seems not to notice, holds out his hand. The baby puts his mouth on Vince’s finger. “Aw, I get it,” he says, “you must be hungry!”

“Hungry?” I echo.

Vince grins. “Yup.”

“Oh,” Yafir says, “I think I have some of Rex’s food.”

Vince frowns. “What? Why would you—no, wait, never mind.”

“You have to be prepared!” Yafir calls as he darts off to one of the other tents.

“He can’t eat that!” Vince hollers after him, but Yafir is gone. “Whatever. Guess he’ll find out the hard way, huh?”

Baby squirms and goes back to sucking on my shoulder.

“What does he eat?” I ask.

“Hm? Oh. Probably milk.” Vince frowns. “Which, uh …”

I sigh, then glance toward the tent. “Evan had better hurry up,” I mutter.

Vince laughs, like that’s a good joke. I don’t see any humor in it at all.