Page 12 of Evan and the Alpha

5

Evan

Can you explain this to me again?”

I’m standing on a small stool in the middle of a hot, hazy room. Bolts of gauzy fabric line the walls; jewelry glints in the low light of the room, flashing as I turn slowly for the kroakka—presumably a tailor of some sort—who is pinning various fabrics to me.

Seriously, I don’t know why I need a tailor—the garments I’ve seen on the kroakka aren’t that complex or fitted. Especially not what the one we went to visit was wearing.

Sobek hasn’t told me straight up, but I’m pretty sure that was his … mother? I don’t really know. Everybody here seems to be a he, so I’m still trying to work out what the difference is, how you tell people are … alpha or omega or beta or whatever.

I think that’s what all this alpha-omega nonsense is about, at least. Took me a bit, but I really do think that alphas are like … men, and the omegas are more like women. Or maybe male and female. But then I’m not really sure—Sobek’s mom, or omega parent or whatever, seemed like a he too.

More than that, the kroakka keep calling me an omega and like … I am not female. But nobody here at the tailor’s said anything about my dick this morning, so …

I haven’t had the courage to ask Sobek directly. I’m not sure I want to know the answers.

Sobek is sitting on the opposite side of the room, on a little stool. He sighs and shifts. “I cannot keep you,” he says, probably for the umpteenth time. I know he’s just as sick of this argument as I am, but he’s refusing to see my point. “I do not have a territory.”

“So? Can’t you just … get a territory?”

Sobek shifts again, this time clearly uncomfortable. I don’t see what the big deal is. “I mean, we do it all the time where I’m from. People fall in love and get married, and they don’t have a house or whatever.”

“A house,” Sobek huff-laughs, like the idea is surprising. I glance at him. “It takes a lot to have a house.”

Okay, so territories and houses are different things. Got it. “Well,” I say, “some people live in tents or trailers even. So I think you’re good there.”

Sobek shakes his head. “It does not matter if I have a tent. We are nomads. Until I secure a territory …”

“So, what’s stopping you?” I twist my head to glare at him, even as I turn around at the tailor’s direction. He’s wisely staying out of it, the old croc. He’s too busy almost stabbing me with pins. I wonder if the tiny spectacles perched at the end of his snout are really helping him any.

Sobek sobers and considers me for a long moment. “You understand,” he says slowly, “that territory is scarce? What I have to do to get one?”

I think of mortgages and down payments and first and last month’s rent at home. “Sure. It’s the same where I come from—housing is scarce. You have to put up a lot of money, and you have to be the highest bidder. Then—”

“No.” The word is startling, stark. I peer over my shoulder at the alpha again. He heaves a sigh, then lifts his golden gaze. “We do not pay for territory, except with blood.”

“O-oh,” I manage.

He nods solemnly. Then he says, “I have to kill someone to secure a territory.”

I nod minutely, then flinch when the tailor nearly stabs me again. Seriously, what is this guy doing?

Sobek tilts his head side to side, like he’s considering me. “Perhaps I am not willing to kill for you.”

That … stings. I don’t really know why; it’s not like I want the guy to run around murdering people. I’m not into murderers.

Or … well, I thought I wasn’t anyway. Sobek could change my mind. I let my gaze rove his form.

I’ll admit, I think I’ve got a crush on the guy. Or maybe it’s lust. I don’t really know, but I do know that I don’t like the idea of being sold to someone else. I’m trying to convince myself that it’s just morality—it’s not ethical to sell people, slavery is illegal.

But really, I just don’t want to leave Sobek. Even if he hasn’t been exactly nice to me—I still have bruises around my neck from him choking the shit out of me on the leash—at least I know him.

And—at risk of sounding like an apologist for domestic abusers everywhere—I don’t think Sobek meant to hurt me. He looked horrified after he’d done it. I haven’t really figured it out yet—everything’s a little murky—but as much as omegas are supposed to be good and obedient and can literally be sold into slavery and shit, I think there’s also a lot of respect for them. Somehow.

It doesn’t make a heck of a lot of sense, but I stopped trying to make sense of this whole thing a while ago. I’m a human, with human sensibilities, stuck on a foreign planet with a bunch of alien … monsters, for lack of a better word. Of course it’s not going to make sense.

In fact, I’d be scared if it did. Bad enough that they seem to be speaking English, that we can understand each other almost perfectly with zero need for translation.