Page 69 of Evan and the Alpha

21

Sobek

Icome home from my omom’s funeral to discover my mate sobbing on our bed. Evan had opted not to come with me, although I’d extended the offer to him, against propriety. It is not usually proper for an alpha’s mate to accompany them to send off the soul of the last omega to rule the territory. Especially if that other omega was the new alpha’s omom. It’s not uncommon to hear of omegas being hexed for that exact reason, and my omom has good reason to hex Evan. After all, Evan is the reason Phapha and Omom are dead.

Although, I suspect Omom would be more forgiving; after all, Evan is looking after Rex, the last of Omom and Phapha’s progeny, so perhaps Omom’s hex would be more like a charm than a curse. Still, not worth the risk, I think, not with Evan pregnant, and Evan thankfully declined to attend. He felt “weird” about going.

I don’t think he’s sobbing about Omom’s death. I close the door behind me and step to the side of the bed. I’m not sure how much patience I have for this; funerals are never pleasant, and Omom’s was particularly demanding of me as the incoming alpha and as Omom’s son. My nerves are a little raw.

Still, it breaks my heart to see Evan crying like this. I might have to throttle whoever made him cry.

“Evan.” My voice is harsher than I want, and both he and I flinch. I take a deep breath, then put my hand on his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

He looks up at me, tears still flowing like a flood down his cheeks. His eyes are red and swollen, bloodshot; the end of his snout is bright pink and covered in some thin, clear film. Even his cheeks seem swollen. I grimace.

“She said our baby was a monster,” hewhines, then puts his face back in the pillows and sobs.

I bristle. “Who said that?” I demand, not caring about how sharp my tone is. Whoever said that is going to pay for it. “Was it Min, the doctor?” I can imagine that. Min’s the only other one who has seen inside Evan. Perhaps he had another image today.

He shakes his head. “My mother,” he wails.

I grit my teeth and do my best not to sink my claws into his shoulder. That settles the matter: his parents need to die. They’re only causing him grief at this point.

He chokes out another couple of sobs, then sniffs loudly and sits up. He rubs at his eyes, then sniffs again. “She—she said the baby was a monster and a parasite, so I should … get rid of it.”

“Get rid of it?” I’ve heard of people leaving clutches out in the open, exposed to other creatures, who will eat the eggs or the young. If the nests get cold enough, though, the young do not develop and never hatch.

He swallows. “Abort it.”

I pause. Evan uses words in ways I don’t always understand. So, I venture cautiously, “Stop … it?”

He sniffs. “Sort of.” He pauses looking at me with deep guilt in his eyes. “It means to kill it. Before it’s born.”

I can’t help the snarl that forces its way out of my throat. I turn on my heel. “I’m going to go slit her throat—”

Evan hauls on my wrist. He’s not actually strong enough to stop me—I could just drag him down the hall if I wanted to—but it’s enough to stay my anger for a second or two. “Don’t,” he begs, “don’t do that.”

I glare down at him. “Why not?” I growl. “She’s done nothing but embarrass you and harass you since she got here. Now she’s called our child a monster and made you cry.” Honestly, death is probably too light of a punishment. Let her be tormented by the two suns in the desert for a day or two, no water and no relief, then watch her beg for mercy.

Evan huffs. “I love her,” he says.

My hackles go up immediately. Evan is my mate. The only one he’s supposed to love is me. Are sun spirits really so free with their hearts?

He shakes his head, like he knows I’ve misunderstood him yet again. His ways are so strange to me. “I—it’s complicated. I know she’s … really awful to me,” he says. “But I love her all the same.”

He tilts his head. “Don’t kill her, please.” His voice is nothing more than a harsh whisper.

I sit down on the edge of the bed reluctantly. “She deserves it,” I grumble, folding my arms.

“I know,” he agrees. “I know, she really does—Dad too. But … if you kill them, you’re gonna make me cry.”

That is a terrible conundrum. I should protect Evan from these horrible people, but if I do, then I’ll make him cry. And an alpha should not hurt an omega.

I’d have to kill myself then, and I think that would also make Evan cry. I’d be condemned to spending eternity in the afterlife as a ghost or perhaps worse—reincarnated as a worm or something.

I frown. I do not think I’ll like being a worm. So, for the sake of my soul and the sake of Evan’s heart, I force myself to stay sitting. “I will have words with them,” I vow.

Evan sniffles again. “I don’t think words will help,” he mutters. “But … thanks.” He looks at me earnestly, smiling gently.