Page 5 of Evan and the Alpha

“I didn’t mean to pass out,” he says, finally looking me in the eye.

That strikes me as odd. “Does anyone ever mean to faint?” I inquire. I squint at him. “Do sun spirits do that on a regular basis?” What would be the purposeof that? I can’t even imagine.

He looks startled. “No! No, I just meant … I thought I could keep going.” He toys with the fringed edge of the nsaca blanket he’s sitting on—a ceremonial blanket, congratulations from my phapha upon becoming an alpha myself. “I’m sorry I made everyone stop in the middle of the desert.”

Sorry. That’s an interesting word. I wonder what, exactly, it means. Instead of pursuing it, though, I say, “I do not understand how a sun spirit cannot stand the heat. Are your divine parents punishing you for something?”

He looks up at me, those green eyes of his wide. He drops his gaze just as quickly, fiddling with the fringe of the blanket more. He mumbles something, very low, like he doesn’t want me to hear him.

If he doesn’t want to be heard, why speak at all? “What did you say?” I demand, moving closer.

He hunches his shoulders. He gives me that same guilty look. “I’m not a sun spirit or … whatever,” he repeats.

I narrow my gaze. “I wondered.”

He shrinks back a bit. “Please don’t hurt me,” he practically whimpers, and I’m disgusted with him. First, he lies to us. Now he shows fear and cowardice plainly? Some omega.

I lean in and sniff at him, enjoying the way it makes him shudder. He really is afraid. I suppose he should be—he’s soft everywhere, no claws or fangs. I could rip him apart.

I’m not sure what he smells like. Strange, that’s for sure. “What are you?”

“A human,” he replies, no hesitation in his voice.

“Human,” I echo, testing the word on my tongue. It’s a strange one. “What does that mean?”

“I, uh … I’m not from here,” he offers.

“We had gathered that much.”

He breaks into a nervous grin. “I mean … I’m not from this planet.”

I lean in again, almost touching my snout to his tiny protuberance. “You’re … from another realm?”

“I guess. I mean, if you wanna … call it that, but like, no, a different planet, out … there.” He points to the top of the tent.

“In the sky?” This is not sounding like he’snota sun spirit.

“The stars,” he clarifies.

I pull back, folding my arms over my chest. I tilt my head at him. “You are telling me you come from beyond the stars.”

“Uh. Yeah.” He nods, apparently satisfied with that.

“But you are not a sun spirit.” That does not add up.

“Nope,” he agrees.

“It sounds to me like you are,” I inform him flatly. “You come from another realm, beyond the stars. You live in the celestial sphere. Nomantru and Enochtra also live in the celestial sphere.”

His eyes widen. “Yeah—but, no! It’s not … it’s not really the same—”

I shrug. “Sounds like a sun spirit to me. And human is just your word for yourselves.”

He gives me a sort of hopeless look, like he’s lost. Like he doesn’t know what to do next. My heart stirs with sympathy—another emotion I don’t have much experience with. But these last few days, I have felt rather lost myself. He is a confusing creature, to say the least. I’ll be glad to get to the market and rid ourselves of him.

“Or perhaps,” I offer, “your fever is merely making you imagine things.” I point to the pile of furs he’s lying on. “Rest. It won’t be cool for hours. Someone will wake you when it’s time to move on.”

With that, I exit the tent, ignoring his weak protests. I don’t need to converse more with him; I already have too much to think on.