Page 47 of Evan and the Alpha

“Well, that will be impossible,” I mutter. I have an omega and a territory to defend now, after all.

Evan smacks me, open-palmed this time. “I don’t want you to, I don’t want you to do it. You scared me so much—”

I’m honestly baffled as to why he’s not flattered. I’ve killed two alphas, including my own phapha, for him. Any kroakka omega, they’d be delighted to have such a devoted—and strong—mate.

I take his hands as gently as I can, mindful of my claws. “I’m sorry I seem to have hurt you. That was not my intention.”

He pauses, sniffling. He whimpers, then closes his eyes and loops his arms around my neck, throwing himself bodily at me. I can’t decide if this is an attack or not, especially not since he’s kneed me in the gut, just above my re-stitched wound.

He smears a trail of tears across my scales. “I was so scared,” he whispers.

I rub his back a little, which seems to soothe him. He sniffs, then sits back in my lap. “Promise me you won’t make me watch you die.” He takes my hand again.

I stare deep into his eyes; they’re mesmerizing, with the light shimmering through his tears. “I cannot promise you that,” I say. “But I will promise to be the best mate I can be—and I will do my best to honor your wishes.”

His lip trembles, like he’s about to cry again. “I’m sorry,” I say. “That is the best I can give you.”

A knock at the door interrupts further oaths and argument. My omom appears in the doorway, looking worse for wear. He won’t meet my eye. He sighs heavily. “The arrangements are made,” he says.

I set Evan on the bed, then make my way to stand. It’s a slow process and I have to lean on the wall for support.

Evan follows me, offering me his shoulder to lean on. It’s not very comfortable, as he’s so short and so small, so bony, by comparison. But it will have to do. I limp along with him, prepared to pay my respects to my phapha upon his funeral pyre.