Page 3 of Evan and the Alpha

2

Sobek

Sun spirit or not, this omega is more trouble than he’s worth.

It’s been two days since we came across him on the riverbank, alone. It was a strange sight to behold: a golden-skinned creature with a rusty-gold crest to match. He seemed like the suns themselves, and we knew at once what he was: a child of Nomantru and Enochtra, a sun spirit.

Our people have known of the sun spirits for eons. They live in the desert, created by the powerful summer heat. They need not food nor drink, and they live forever, which is how they are able to stand the harsh desert clime.

Although … thisEvan has me questioning the old legends. For a being that doesn’t need to eat or drink, he certainly likes water. And he is very much bothered by the heat, even more than our own people.

I wonder if he’s really a sun spirit at all.

But then, what is he? He’s certainly not a kroakka. He is much smaller than us and he lacks a tail. His skin is smooth and, although it has a bronzed look, he does not shimmer like us. His eyes are strange, his nose and mouth, stranger. His crest is thin and stringy, made up of hundreds or thousands of little filaments. He has no claws, no fangs.

I don’t know what to make of him.

More confounding than the question of what he is or is not is the one about why an omega was alone in the desert. Perhaps he has been exiled by his float? Or maybe he is lost? Or perhaps he’s run away from a captor or he’s the only survivor of a village raid.

Not that there are any villages to raid in that part of the desert. Which makes the mystery of where he came from even deeper. Why does he not have a mate or a guard? Among the kroakka, omegas never travel alone. It would be irresponsible let them out of one’s sight; there are always betas and alphas ready to kidnap an omega, steal them away into the night.

Ge-Ro can offer me no explanation, other than that Evan really is a sun spirit and, perhaps, sun spirits do not have the same rules for their omegas.

That could make sense. After all, what fear does a deity have of being kidnapped? An immortal need not fear death. And his captors might deny him food and water, but he could not die.

I, for one, am not willing to test that theory, because listening to the omega whine is grating. I cannot wait until we arrive in kel-Akurr. We’ll be able to take him to market and finally have some peace and quiet.

“What’s the matter?” Yafir, my youngest brother, asks. I glance over my shoulder to see him pushing the sun spirit upright again. Evan stumbles in the sand. He’s panting and—wonder of wonders—he has turned pink.

His gaze flicks to me, then back to the ground. “It’s too hot,” he complains.

I shake my head. I really cannot get my mind around the idea that this—this whiny, petulant thing—is a sun spirit.

“Keep walking,” I call to the rest of the group. “We’re only two days’ trek from the city.”

“Two days?!” Evan cries behind me, and Yafir yelps.

I turn back around and find the two of them in a heap on the ground. I’m not quite sure why the sight annoys me so much, but it nettles me, like a rash spreading across my skin, impossible to scratch. “Yes,” I reply.

Evan heaves a sigh—he sounds frustrated—and looks around. “We’ve been walking for days already,” he complains.

“And we will walk days more,” I inform him flatly. “Whether you sit there on the ground or get up and move determines how long you will spend in the desert.”

Evan stares at me hard for a moment, and I’m thrilled by the promise of violence darkening his green irises. They glitter like precious gems before the omega squashes the threat by looking away. With a resigned sigh, he wobbles back to his feet.

“I’m not used to this,” he complains.

I’m half-tempted to tell him to get used to it—and worse—but I do not wish to waste my breath. Arguing with the omega is fruitless. Instead, I grab his arm and force him in front of me. He trips over his own two feet, partially because he’s looking back at me with something akin to shock. Like no one has ever dared to force him to do anything.

It would explain a lot, I think. One can’t expect omegas to be obedient if they aren’t trained for it. “Keep walking,” I order gruffly. “The sooner you march, the sooner you get out of this heat.”

He takes a couple of stumbling steps, still staring at me with that look of disbelief. I widen my eyes in reciprocation. “I don’t like the sun any more than you do,” I assure him. “Nor do my brothers. So, for the sake of us all …”

I give him another little push, nearly bowling him over. I forget how small, how delicate he is. It’s surprising.

He catches his balance, then pops upright, still wild-eyed. “Walk,” I command.

For once, he obeys. I almost sigh with relief. I fall in step with Yafir, who still has the omega on the lead. “Don’t you think you were a little harsh?” Yafir needles gently. “After all, he is a sun spirit—”