Chapter 16
Cain
Icouldn’t get my heart to slow down.
It had been three days since that piece of rotten filth had come onto my land and tried to take Bowen, and I still wasn’t calm.
How dare he. How fucking dare he put his hands on Bowen. How dare he come onto my property and try to take away the person that meant everything to me.
I—
“Cain?”
That sweet, soft voice pulled me from my violent thoughts, and I turned to look at Bowen. He watched me with furrowed brows, then closed his book and crossed to me, climbed onto my lap and held my face in his small, precious hands.
“What’s the matter?”
I turned and pressed a kiss into his palm. “Nothing. I’m okay.”
“You look upset.”
He was so perceptive, and I hated lying to him, so I leaned forward and touched my forehead to his. “I can’t stop thinking about it. About what happened. What if—”
His lips were on mine, devouring my what ifs and should haves and all my other doubts and fears.
He nipped his way down my jaw, sucked on my throat with a moan, then looked up at me. “Let me make you feel good?”
How could I say no to that face? Those eyes. He’d succeeded in distracting me from my dark thoughts, seemed to know exactly what would take me out of them, was trying to put me in a better mind space and…I loved him for that.
I loved him.
With every atom of my being, I loved this little ball of curious chaos that had barreled into my life and changed everything.
“Bowen,” I said, cupping his cheeks and waiting until his eyes met mine. “I’m so glad you came here. You’re so special to me, you know that, right?”
He stilled, those mismatched eyes widening as they searched mine. “You promise?” he whispered, leaning into me.
His lips brushed mine as I said, “Yeah. I promise, Bow. I love you.”
He kissed my lips, my chin, my cheeks, my eyes. He kissed me everywhere, then wound his arms around me and buried his face in my neck.
I rubbed my hands up his back, then wrapped him in my arms and crushed him to me when his body shook and the tears dampened my skin.
I nuzzled my cheek against his head and slowly massaged the nape of his neck. “Shh, it’s okay. You’re okay.”
I knew he wasn’t sad right now, that he was just overwhelmed with a lot of emotions and trying to process them.
I knew he was happy because he told me every day.
And I knew he loved me, even if he never said it with his lips. Everything he did was with love and care and affection.
Every part of him had been made to love every part of me.
Dad would be so happy for me. I hoped wherever he was, if he was watching over me, he was at peace now knowing I wasn’t alone anymore.
I’d found someone special.
He was eager and adorable, always positive and enthusiastic and unendingly curious.
A little tiny sun that had wandered into my home, lighting up every dark corner.
He was just…he was perfect.
I was going to protect him from now on. Give him everything he needed, everything he never had. Teach him everything he didn’t know.
He was mine.
Mine to protect, mine to cherish, mine to spoil.
I’d made him shoes. I thought he would hate them, but he loved his shoes. I’d given him all the extra clothes we had, and he spent a whole afternoon trying them all on.
He was adorable, and he was all mine to love.
But right now, he was mine to teach—and he wanted to learn about everything.
I taught him how to empty the compost in the bathroom, how to wash our clothes in the river, how to distill water for drinking.
I’d shown him the letter Dad had written me, and when I told him how he’d died, he’d flung his arms around my neck and stroked his hand down my hair. It was so sweet, that gesture.
We went through the storage room one day, and he found a box full of useless crap.
Except the excitement on his face made me thank my packrat of an ancestor; Bowen loved discovering every new thing in there, and when he found the kazoo, he ended up scaring himself when I told him to blow it.
He threw it across the room with an angry snarl and I couldn’t stop laughing.
I taught him how to make oil from pressing all the apple seeds we spent three days collecting. It was an arduous process, but having him there—those big, beautiful eyes shining with delight—made the experience unforgettable in the best kind of way.
I’d shown him how to dry the apples so we could still eat them in between harvests.
But of all the things he’d learned, what he loved most was reading.
He’d picked up the alphabet very quickly, and now we were reading through books so he could learn more words.
He was smart. Really smart, and he absorbed every detail around him. He was always watching me or Luna or studying his environment; his curiosity was limitless.
If he didn’t understand something, he asked me about it. He never seemed to get embarrassed or feel like anything was off limits, which I liked. He was as clear as glass, but nowhere near as breakable.
His wound had healed to the point he didn’t need a bandage anymore.
He couldn’t lift his right arm higher than his shoulder, and I didn’t know if that was going to be a permanent thing or if it would get better with time.
I hoped it wasn’t permanent. His ankle, on the other hand, had healed up perfectly and he was able to walk normally again.
And best of all, he always wanted to be near me. Touching me. On me. He was extremely tactile, loved using all of his senses to experience everything but loved to touch most of all.
I loved it.
“Bof—boft?”
We were lying on the couch, him between my legs. I leaned over him to look at the word he was pointing at.
“Bought. The gh is silent here.”
“Oh. Right. Bought,” he repeated. “So if there was no t, it would be boff?”
I laughed and kissed his head. “Actually, it would be ‘bow’, but some words with the gh ending sound like effs. I’ll make a list for you.”
He nodded. “Got it.”
It was so fucking adorable how seriously he took this, and I was so proud of him for everything he’d achieved so far. He’d obviously been denied any kind of educational opportunity and was eager to soak up every last bit of knowledge he could.
I once made the mistake of asking him if he’d never had anyone to teach him anything before, and the sadness in his eyes made me instantly regret my question.
But then, as if he needed to get it off his chest so he could move on, he told me about his life before this, all these awful little details that made it feel like a knife was twisting in my gut.
How terrified had he been every single day? And when the rains came, how lonely must he have been, wondering if that was it? If he’d finally succumb to the virus?
I would never let him go through anything by himself again. He had me now, and he’d always have me.
When he was done, I squeezed him tight and whispered, “I’m so sorry, Bowen.”
“It’s okay. I don’t care anymore.”
How could he not care? “Why not?”
“Because…then I never would’ve found you. And I think that would be the worst thing of all.”
I couldn’t breathe, and it felt like I’d been cleaved in two.
I couldn’t speak, either, because all I could think about was what if he’d never found me?
What if he hadn’t escaped? What if he’d escaped but traveled endlessly, or encountered bad people, or a horde of infected?
Anything could’ve happened, and somehow, he’d found his way here. To me.
“Yeah,” I finally managed to say while he stroked light fingers down my arm. He slid his hand over mine, slipping his fingers between my own and squeezing. I squeezed back and kissed his head. “I’m really glad you found me, Bow. I’ll always be right here.”
“Promise?”
I huffed out a laugh. “I promise.”
He hummed in contentment, happy to be in my arms.
It happened a few days later, in the middle of the night.
I hadn’t been able to sleep, was reading on the couch while Bowen snored quietly on my chest. But then his breathing became heavier, his face flushed a deep red, and he began to sweat.
When I felt his hard length prodding my stomach, and he started grinding into me, making little agonized growling sounds, I put my book down.
Shit.
Was the rain coming?
“Okay. Come here, let’s go to the bedroom.”
He choked out a sob as I scooped him up and started carrying him down the hall.
He wound his limbs around me and shoved his face into my throat, his breaths coming in painful hitches as he started rolling his hips against me.
I ran my hand down his back and murmured, “It’s okay.
It’ll be okay, we’re gonna make you feel better. You’re alright, baby.”
He was trembling in my arms, and when we got to the room, I shut the door behind us, then strode to the bed and carefully laid him down.
He didn’t want to let go of me, but I gently urged him to so I could take his clothes off. As soon as I got his pants off and went to get his shirt, he drew his legs up and grabbed his hard cock with one hand, pushing the fingers of the other down behind his balls to—
“No,” I rushed out, grabbing his wrist as he growled at me in frustration. He let go of his cock and snatched the covers in a tight fist while I held his hand away, his eyes practically glowing with anger. Then he let go of the covers and tried to penetrate himself with his other hand.
Fuck.
I needed to get the oil.
I stopped him before he could just shove his fingers into his hole, pinning his arms to the bed. He was gonna hurt himself like that.
He didn’t like that, started snarling and snapping at me, but in the next moment he was tipping his head back and screaming, the tendons in his throat taut, his back arching, and then he fell limp to the bed.
“Cain,” he cried, tears spilling down the side of his face. “Please. Please please please please please, I need you. I really need you, I need you, Cain—” He choked on a sob, and my heart couldn’t fucking take this.
“Okay. It’s okay, Bow, you can have me. But I have to…I have to get you ready first.”
He sobbed in relief, squeezing his eyes shut, more tears streaming down his face. He nodded and whimpered, letting me turn him onto his stomach. He was instantly grinding down into the bed as he panted and moaned.
I pulled the drawer to the night table open and brought the glass jar to the bed, setting it beside him.
I hoped, for his sake, the storm passed quickly.