Page 60 of Evan and the Alpha

It’s only when I’m holding it that I realize what he’s asking me. I look up into those calm, golden eyes. I feel sick. “You want me to …”

Tek nods and I glance back at the egg, sucking in a sharp breath. Beside me, Tek sighs. He runs a claw lovingly over the egg. “It’s your right,” he says, “as the incoming omega. Your duty. Sobek can’t, because this is his brother.”

I shake my head. “Tek, I can’t do that.”

“Of course you can,” Tek assures me. “Sobek might be his brother, and I can’t find it in my heart because … well, because he’s Terek’s last. But you—what attachment do you have? This is only competition for your own.” He eyes me warily.

I set the egg back in the nest. “Look, I get this is probably another culture thing, but we don’t do that.” I search Tek’s gaze, trying to find even a smidgen of understanding, of sympathy for what he’s asking of me. “We just … don’t.”

Tek frowns. We both look at the egg for a minute.

I look back at Tek. “I’ll take care of him,” I say. I regret it almost immediately; what am I doing? I’m about to have to deal with my own child, never mind taking care of Tek’s as well. I hardly feel ready to look after one baby. I didn’t even want kids when I landed on this planet.

“That’s not necessary,” Tek says.

“Tek—”

“That’s too much to ask of you, that’s … I should just …”

We both gaze at the egg again. The chirping is louder.

I take Tek’s hands, give them a gentle squeeze. “He doesn’t have to die, just because you and Terek did.”

Tek frowns deeply. “That is the way of things,” he murmurs. “It’s always been the way of things. Parents look after their own; children without parents to care for them do not survive. If a parent dies, then it is a sign they were no longer fit. Their offspring too shall perish then.”

“That’s nuts,” I offer, earning myself a confused look from Tek. “That’s … that’s the most insane thing I’ve ever heard. He doesn’t have to die. You and Terek weren’t unfit, you had how many other kids, and they’re all just fine. Look at Sobek. So …”

Tek huffs an uneasy breath. He pulls his hands away from mine and retreats a few paces. He crouches down, head in his hands suddenly, weeping, “I don’t want to kill him. I don’t want him to die.”

My gut churns unpleasantly. I lay a steady hand on Tek’s shoulder, trying to be comforting, wary of transferring my own feelings, my own mixed-up confusion and grief.

Tek looks up at me with tears in his eyes still, and that’s that. I have two kids to look after now.