Page 35 of Evan and the Alpha

“There is great honor in being fought over,” he says. His words are labored. “Nojak has died. I killed him for you.”

I sink my teeth into my bottom lip. “I didn’t—”

“The gods smiled upon our union,” he says softly, stroking my cheek, almost fervently. “They allowed me to triumph over Nojak. You are mine now.”

I lean into his touch. “Sobek …”

He pauses, then turns away coughing. He groans at the end of it, then lowers himself down to lie again. He stares at the ceiling. “However,” he continues, “the gods have seen fit to punish me as well.”

“No,” I whimper.

“I have been punished for breaking my word, for insulting Nojak so.”

I grind my teeth. This is all so … senseless. If he’d just listened to me, just listened to reason …

“Evan.”

I bow my head. I can’t stand this.

“Ask your divine parents not to turn their backs on me.” He turns his head again. “Tell them I have been chastened. Pray to them. Ask them not to punish you along with me.”

I grit my teeth. “Moron,” I spit at him, with no real venom. “I’ve told you. I’m not what you think I am.”

I don’t have any ins with gods. I can’t ask anyone to save him. Certainly not my dickhead parents.

Although …

Sobek coughs again. The old kroakka in the corner moves a little closer. Sobek takes my hand and pats it. “I have fought for you,” he says again. “I will continue to fight for you. Evan, I will die for you.”

“I don’t want you to die!”

“And,” he says, like he didn’t hear me, “I have killed for you. I will kill for you again.”

The temperature in the room seems to drop by about fifty degrees, and I shudder with the sudden chill. Sobek’s words ring through my ears. They sound like a threat. A vow.

The old kroakka moves in. “It is time for the patient to rest,” he says gently, nudging me aside.

Sobek’s phapha, who has been silent until now, hauls me to my feet. “You should rest too,” he says. “You have seen much today.”

I want to argue—it’s not so much that I’ve seen a lot, it’s that I’ve felt a lot. But I’m suddenly too tired to argue, so I simply nod and let him lead me out of the room.

Wek and Kiki take me to another room in the house and rinse me down, which I don’t exactly appreciate, but then, I’m also not super into being covered in blood. The next room we enter is filled with soft pillows and furs and blankets. There are a couple of piles that look like mounds; Wek and Kiki steer me clear of those, taking me to the far side of the room.

“Nests,” Kiki says, as though that explains anything.

“It’s lucky that Tek has finished laying,” Wek comments.

“So soon though,” Kiki murmurs.

“You’re lucky Tek is gracious enough to let you sleep here,” Wek says.

I frown, but they offer no further insight. They pat me on the head and wrap me up in blankets, then instruct me to go to sleep. They leave the room, and I wonder how I’m supposed to sleep when I’m so full of grief and worry. Sobek’s not dead yet, but he’s not well. He might die.

Surprisingly, I drift off; I guess I am tired.

I dream about baby crocodiles, chirping at their mothers to get out of the nest.