Page 62 of Evan and the Alpha

I shake those thoughts off. They don’t matter right now; my mate does. I pull the plate closer to the edge of the table as I seat myself cross-legged beside him. Evan curls closer, clearly eager for a few morsels before bed. I don’t understand his shyness around admitting he’s hungry either.

It doesn’t matter, I tell myself; I’ll feed my mate before he has to ask. I offer him the first piece, which he takes without hesitation or question.

Here, it is tradition to let the omegas eat first, particularly if they are pregnant. Evan’s family does not seem to know this rule; it was only Evan’s hands on mine under the table that kept me from leaping up and challenging first his phapha and then his eldest alpha brother for helping themselves first. The wretches.

They’re not here now, which means I can follow our customs, allowing Evan his right to eat his fill before I touch the food.

Except Evan spoils it, as he’s wont to do. He ignores my order not to touch the food himself—an omega should be content to let his alpha choose for him, trusting that their alpha will provide. To say I’m surprised when he offers me the morsel is an understatement. I meet his gaze with a protest in my eyes, but there’s something about his expression that stalls my words. His voice is softer still when he murmurs, “You take care of me, but who’s taking care of you?”

I huff, trying to turn away from his insistence. “An alpha should not need care.”

“That’s stupid,” Evan says. “Everybody needs care. Let’s take care of each other.”

I don’t miss the way his lips cant up, his gaze now darker. There is no mistaking his meaning. “You can’t get pregnant again,” I tell him, and he huffs an embarrassed laugh.

His eyes are so bright in the candlelight. “Doesn’t mean you can’t try,” he murmurs, almost like a challenge, and this omega is ridiculous.

But he’s mine. I accept his offering, holding his gaze steady. He flushes a pretty pink, then glances over his shoulders, leaning back on his forearms, slowly lowering himself to the ground. I am not a fool; I won’t turn down what my mate is offering. I crawl over him, amazed, once again, by how slight he is.

I push my snout against his neck, feel the rush of blood in his veins, the catch of his breath. It’s been a while; he has no bruises around his neck. Apparently, early pregnancy makes humans quite sick. Their people is so very nonsensical.

There’s not much pretense between us at this point. We shed what little clothing we’re wearing. Evan spreads his legs for me, and I shoulder my way between them, fingers probing him. I’m delighted to find he’s slick; my mate becomes more and more an omega every day.

“Take your time,” Evan says breathlessly, eyes wide as he looks up at me. I wonder if he has any idea how good he looks like that—spread out beneath me, my fingers buried inside him, flush decorating his skin from his cheeks down. His eyes are brighter than emeralds in the low light. He’s placed one hand over the very slight rounding of his abdomen—the first outward sign of what we’ve known for weeks now.

I curl my fingers inside him. “You’re fairly loose.” I’m a little surprised, actually; it has been weeks since we last engaged each other.

Evan gives me a throaty moan. “I know,” he pants. “Think it’s the hormones.”

I stretch him wide, then work another finger into him. “I think I like these hormones.” The word is strange on my tongue. “Maybe we’ll keep them.”

Evan’s wide-eyed; he looks like he’s entered a trance. He tilts his head back; the flush of his skin is deeper. His breath comes short. “God,” he rasps, “God, no—yes. No.”

I can’t make much sense of that, so I say nothing. Evan writhes, his hand tensing on the pillow underneath him. Watching him wrestle himself—it’s clear this is some internal struggle—is delightful.

Even more so when he groans, “Fuck, yes, just keep me knocked up.” I’m not quite sure whatknocked upmeans, but he slides a hand over his belly, and I think it must mean pregnant.

“I won’t say no,” I murmur, leaning in to nose at his neck again. I want to choke him, put bruises all over him. Bite him, really make him mine.

He whines, then bucks his hips. “Fuck me.” His voice has gone hoarse. “Fuck me now, Sobek, please—”

“I love it when you beg,” I murmur against his skin, reveling in how he shudders against me. I pull my fingers out, replacing them with the head of my cock. Evan chantsyesbreathlessly in my ear, crying out sharply when I push into him.

I didn’t stretch him nearly enough, but neither of us have much patience. Evan winces and grits his teeth. I can hear the note of pain in his voice as he moans. Still, he doesn’t ask for me to stop; he doesn’t cry out or whimper.

I glance at his face and find he’s biting his lip. He’s punctured skin; blood, bright and red, wells up under his too-white teeth.

“Evan,” I hiss, letting my claws sink beneath the skin ofhis hips.

His eyes flutter shut—not the reaction I wanted. I press my snout against the hollow of his throat. “I’m going to bite you.”

Evan’s only response is a guttural moan, one that’s been wrenched from someplace bone-deep. It’s all the encouragement I need. I sink my teeth into his neck, intent on scarring him, making permanent marks.

Mating him. Binding him to me, forever.

Evan’s breath hitches again; he moans, then freezes as I tighten my jaw around his neck.

I pull my teeth free as quick as I can, knowing just how easily I could kill him. My heart thunders in my ears as I stare at the puncture wounds, bleeding brilliantly. Evan touches a hand to his neck, smears blood everywhere. He looks terribly frightened and terribly turned on.

I slide a hand between us. He closes his eyes, opens his mouth, but there’s no sound. I’m not sure I could hear him over the rushing blood in my ears anyway.

He goes slack just as I peak, driving deep, knotting him. He manages a choked cry, then opens his eyes. His hand is still on his neck.

Now he really is my mate, a thought that thrills me. I don’t know if he fully understands the magnitude of what happened, but a slow smile drifts across his lips. His expression is dazed, hazy, and he seems like he’s about to speak when someone else clears their throat and the moment shatters.