Page 26 of Evan and the Alpha

“Higher basal metabolism,” I tell him, happy I remember that much from Vince’s biology ramblings. “I’m warm-blooded.”

“Warm-blooded,” he repeats.

“You told the other alphas that I make my own heat.”

“Because you’re a sun spirit,” he murmurs.

“Because I’m warm-blooded,” I correct. “It means I make my own heat. I burn energy—food—to keep my body at about the same temperature constantly.”

Sobek blinks. “Oh,” he says. Then he frowns. “That’s why you find the suns so intolerable.”

“Yeah,” I agree. “I overheat.”

Sobek nods. “Much faster than we do.” He cups my cheek. “We must lie in the sun and absorb the heat.”

“Yup,” I agree. “We have animals on Earth that do the same. Crocodiles. They look kinda like you.” I wish I had my phone. Or a computer. Or anything that worked, really. I could show him pictures.

“Crocodile,” he repeats. “What are they like?”

“Uh,” I mumble. “They, uh … kinda like you. Except they walk on four feet. And they don’t talk. Or live in cities.”

“Hm.” Sobek does not sound impressed. “But they live in your realm, beyond the stars.”

“Yeah,” I agree.

“Primordial beings,” he says. “Ancestor spirits—the souls of those who have gone to dwell with the gods.”

“Er. Sure.” I’m never quite sure what to do when he gets into the spiritual shit. I’m an atheist myself. No such thing as god or gods and nobody’s proven ghosts exist yet.

A knock on the door interrupts our morning cultural comparison class. Kiki enters the room carrying a large platter. Wek is behind him, looking furious.

Wek pauses and sniffs the air. He opens his mouth, displaying all his teeth. It’s pretty clear he’s disgusted. “Nojak will arrive to the market in two hours,” he informs us coldly. “You should enjoy this last meal, then make yourselves presentable. He will not be pleased.” Wek’s golden eyes flash with a warning.

Kiki sets the platter down on the table before us. His golden gaze drifts up, searching first mine, then Sobek’s. “I hope it was worth it,” he says, his voice almost a whisper.

The two of them leave as quickly as possible. I frown at Sobek. “What was that about?”

“Let’s not worry about it,” Sobek says hurriedly, like he can’t get away from the topic fast enough. My stomach ties itself in sour knots as Sobek uncovers breakfast—a huge platter of roasted meat, what look like boiled eggs, and something that might be toast.

Sobek tears meat from the bone, and, in a repeat of that night in the tent, offers it to me, pressing it against my lips. This time, I don’t hesitate to take it from him. I lick his fingers, watch his lids drop as he gazes at me, desire darkening his eyes.

I remember him trying to explain this as being intimate to me. I didn’t understand it at the time, but it does feel intimate now. Maybe it’s the way he watches me, his gaze fixed on my mouth, or maybe it’s the way he’s silently encouraging me.

I flush hot with the idea of getting pregnant for him. I dismiss it immediately. It’s not like I can.

The thought rebounds. I would, if it were at all possible.

I feel a little lightheaded with the realization. I’ve never thought about having kids. I’m twenty-three, gay, and single. Chronically single. I just finished college. I have no job prospects. I’m pretty sure my parents hate me. I can’t keep a steady relationship going.

Basically, I’m like Sobek: no prospects at all. Kids are definitely not part of that picture.

I almost choke when I start laughing. Sobek pounds me frantically on the back as I wheeze. Finally, I get my throat clear.

“What’s so funny?” he demands.

“Just … you said you have no prospects,” I say, then grin ruefully. “I don’t either.”

Sobek frowns. I shake my head, then reach for the toast. The alpha slaps my hand away. “You eat what I offer,” he says.