Page 49 of Evan and the Alpha

“Ah, of course,” Darwin says beside me, lifting his mug. “You shouldn’t drink alcohol.”

“No?” Sobek asks. He takes up the seat beside me, across from Yafir and Ge-Ro.

“Nope.” I shake my head, then glance down at my abdomen. This is ridiculous, right? I can’t possibly be …

I curl my hands into my skirt and look up at Sobek. “Bad for the baby.”

Sobek frowns at me, but lifts his mug and drinks from it thoughtfully instead of speaking.

Yafir takes the opening instead. “How is it bad for the eggs?” he asks, tilting his head.

I sigh.

Darwin saves me, chortling, “Humans don’t lay eggs.”

“Don’t lay eggs,” Ge-Ro grunts.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you,” I grumble. “You guys lay eggs, but I’m a human—sun spirit—whatever. And we don’t.”

“What happens then?” Yafir asks, leaning across the table. His eyes are bright with curiosity.

“We have live young,” Darwin explains, then busies his mouth with his grog before anyone can ask another question.

“Live young?” Ge-Ro looks incredulous.

“Yeah,” I agree. I poke myself in the bellybutton. “The baby lives in here for nine months and then we give birth.”

Sobek chokes into his drink. “You what?” he gasps when he comes up for air.

Darwin gives him a sympathetic smile. “You heard the man. Humans have live births, and gestation is nine months or so.”

Sobek stares at me. Then he looks down at my abdomen. Then back up to my face. There’s a question in his eyes, but it’s Yafir who says, “How big are the babies?”

“It’s just one,” I snap. “Usually.”

“One,” Sobek echoes. Then he picks up his mug and sips at it, staring at the wall across the way.

“I think,” Darwin says, adjusting his glasses, “that the kroakka and us humans—I mean, sun spirits—have very different reproductive strategies.”

We all kind of look at him, vaguely bemused. He takes his glasses off to polish them. “So, the kroakka, they have many children at one time, and they lay eggs. Humans don’t, and we have one child at a time. We invest much more time and resources into a single offspring.”

“And that is why you don’t need to fight for territories,” Sobek surmises. “Because there aren’t that many of you.”

Darwin laughs riotously, clearly surprised. “Oh,” he sayswhen he sobers a bit, “there are a lot of us. Billions, in fact.”

“Billions,” Yafir echoes, his eyes wide.

“Yes,” Darwin agrees. “Despite the different strategy, we are, uh—very good at reproduction.”

“Anyway,” I say, folding my arms and sitting back, “this would only matter if I could get pregnant.”

“You already are,” Sobek insists, setting his mug down. He turns to glare at me. “I can smell it on you.”

I glare back. “What if I just smell like … like whatever, and you think it’s what a pregnant kroakka smells like, but it’s actually something else? ’Cause I’m not a kroakka.”

I hesitate, then add, “Maybe I’m sick.”

“Sick!” Sobek looks scandalized.