Page 46 of Evan and the Alpha

I am too slow to deliver the killing blow, though; my spear glances off the side of his scales, and he turns back, jaws wide open, teeth bared, as if to remind me that the proud warrior will not be vanquished so easily.

He rushes me again; I rebuff him, forcing us both to discard our spears. It’s a move in my favor; the spears are long-distance weapons, which allow us to deliver blows from across the field. I am too slow for that.

The spears clatter to the ground and we grapple, hands locked together as we snap at each other, trying to push each other away. It feels almost like the playfighting we engaged in when I was a child.

Terek is not playing now; he tosses his head to the side and clamps his teeth down on my right wrist. I howl. Then I snarl and fling him to the ground, following him down with a punch. He anticipates it, though, rolling to the side, then knocking me over with his tail as he leaps to his feet. I grab his ankle, dragging him back to the ground. I spring to my knees, pinning him down with claws in his shoulder. He struggles, then spits in my face. As I rear back, he knocks out my balance, forcing me to the ground again.

Somewhere, the crowd roars; the noise is dull, as though it’s far away. I touch my hand to my stomach; my fingertips are coated with blood. I’m not sure if it’s mine or his. But the crowd is cheering the bloodshed.

I stumble back to my feet. I rush Terek, and we lock hands again, both of us bowing our heads and butting them together as we grapple. I don’t expect the tail to the face; the blow knocks my head to the side, and he uses the opportunity to topple me to the ground once more. He smashes his foot into my face, then my gut. A low groan of pain escapes me. There’s blood. So much blood.

The crowd cheers as I get punted across the ring. I barely push up to my hands. I can see his feet, churning through the sand to deliver my demise. I stagger to my feet, slinging one arm underneath my belly, where it feels like the skin has peeled back, as though to make an escape for my cowardly organs, who wish to run away from this defeat.

I inhale deeply, watching Terek bear down on me. I close my eyes, offering a small prayer to the sun gods.

I feel the vibrations caused by his feet, and I strike without looking. The top of my head smashes into the underside of his snout. He chokes on his lost breath and stumbles back. The crowd gasps. I open my eyes and watch him reel.

I risk a glance at the crowd, and I find Evan’s eyes. His hands are in front of his mouth; I am not sure if he’s praying or weeping.

I lift my arms high above my head, then smash my clasped hands down on top of Terek’s head. He falls to the ground, dust flying up around him. I lift my foot, stomping on his head, but I realize this will not end him. It will take too long, and I am too weak to keep up this kind of beating.

I need to end this quickly. For both of us.

Without a second thought, I roll him onto his back. He struggles, but it is in vain; I tear into the soft, vulnerable tissue of his belly, with my claws, my teeth. I will unmake him.

I hear someone shriek, and the crowd ripples with murmurs. Their words get louder, until they’re shouting, screaming.

I seek Terek’s watery gold gaze. He gives me the slightest shake of his head. “What are you waiting for?” he wheezes. His gaze hardens. “End this.”

It is not honorable to be merciful, I remind myself harshly. It is an insult to my phapha to hesitate now.

And …

It will only prolong his pain.

“Forgive me.” I bow my head.

“There is nothing to forgive,” he replies, and I reach over and sink my teeth into his throat, ending it.

***

Evan is screaming. He has not stopped screaming since I exited the ring, bloody and bruised, but victorious.

I don’t understand what he’s so upset about, but he’s been crying into my shoulder and beating his little fists against my chest and just—nonstop screaming. He is so frustrated, scared, angry, something, that he seems to have lost the capacity for words.

Finally, he breaks on a sob and yells, “Don’t you ever do that again!” His voice is hoarse.

“I don’t think I can. I only had one phapha, and he is dead now.”

Evan gives me another frustrated little cry, then smacks me again. I do my best not to wince; he has little power to hurt me with one blow, but repeatedly …

I catch one of his hands, inspecting his knuckles. They must hurt too, I think.

He yanks his hand back. He looks both desperate and angry when I lift my gaze. “I was so—scared,” he grinds out, and I frown.

Shouldn’t he be happy I won then? I’m alive, after all.

“I never want you to fight anyone ever again!”