Chapter 16
Sixteen
Unfortunately, the cage worked.
The boy appeared more at peace behind those four metal walls. It was as if he could relax for the first time since he’d woken up.
Carver hated it. He wanted the boy to be free to roam and explore. He wanted the boy to figure out his true self. He wanted him to open up to the others so they could get some answers.
In the two days since they’d put the cage together, life had become a routine of sorts. They attempted to feed the boy, to which he often refused. Fury would sit with him to see if he’d talk. Doc occasionally came in to check his bandages as well.
Still, nothing changed. It was as if the boy was fully content to live in the box he’d been put in.
It was only Carver who could see the truth.
He saw the way the boy’s eyes tracked his movements.
Carver could feel the way the boy appeared to want to know where he’d been when he wasn’t in the room.
There were tiny tells in his face—most so miniscule no one else would have a chance to notice them.
Carver did though.
He noticed everything about the boy in his care.
Carver hated himself for this.
It wasn’t right.
It wasn’t fair.
What fucking sucked most was how much he enjoyed it. He shouldn’t have liked having the boy’s attention. He should have wanted to get him out of the cage, to get him reacquainted with life.
Carver was no better than the people who’d hurt him.
“It’s time to eat, sweet boy. You’ve got to come out.” Carver stood far enough back to give the young man room to move, yet close enough to catch him should he try to hurt himself again.
He’d already tried twice.
Though since they’d gotten the cage, he hadn’t attempted anything else. It was yet another reason Carver knew it had been a smart decision. Carver refused to let him end his precious life before it truly began.
If he could go back to kill those fuckers slowly, he would.
“He any better?” Slash mumbled from somewhere behind Carver. The other man had been shadowing him anytime they didn’t have other club business going on. Some would say he was behaving as backup. But Carver knew the truth.
Slash was worried about him. His second-in-command could tell how invested he was. Carver couldn’t hide anything from the man who was more brother than club member.
Eyes trained on the cage door; he shook his head. The boy might not trust him now, but he would.
His sweet boy would get better with time and patience.
Thankfully, Carver had an abundance of both.
“He won’t eat outside of the cage. And feeding him in there feels fucking wrong,” he grumbled.
Slash nodded, then tilted his head. “Maybe you can feed it to him. Like sitting at the entrance and mama birding the stuff.”
“Mama birding?”
“Yeah, you know… feeding him by hand. I think he trusts you the most out of everyone here. If you get on his level and show him it’s safe, then he’ll do what you want.”
Carver took a second to think over Slash’s words. Could it really be that simple? Surely not.
With one final glance at the man beside him, Carver dropped to a seated position at the cage door.
He’d propped it open in an attempt to get the boy to come out to eat.
Since the only time he ever left the small space was to use the bathroom, it was important to Carver to find more than one way to coax him out.
It couldn’t be good for his body to be curled up so much.
“Hey, sweet boy,” he cooed as he scooted closer. “I’ve got some food for you. It would really make me happy if you could eat a few bites.”
Slash remained quiet behind him, though Carver could feel his eyes taking in every second of the encounter.
He had no doubt his second would tell him all the things he didn’t catch himself.
Then again, there wasn’t much Carver didn’t notice when it came to the boy.
He gained the man’s undivided attention anytime they were in the same room.
The boy looked over at him. Shaggy blond hair covered part of his gaze. Not so much that Carver couldn’t see the way he was being watched. It was just enough to give the boy a sense of being hidden.
Carver picked up the spoon from the bowl and lifted it.
After a moment of pause, he brought it to his lips.
He sipped at the warm soup mixture, making sure to show he was actually drinking it all.
Part of him had wondered if the boy thought his food was doctored.
He wouldn’t put it past Mordecai to have done something like that.
While he’d previously let the idea go, he decided today would be the time to test out his theory. As soon as he finished the first spoonful, he went for another. Not because he truly wanted to eat the brothy mix Doc had recommended.
No, it was more about proving this wasn’t some trick. The rough aftertaste would be worth it if he could convince the boy to follow his lead.
Thankfully, it only took one more sip for the boy to take interest. He shuffled closer on all fours, his gaze on his hand where the spoon hovered over the bowl.
Once he got close, he opened his mouth. Carver didn’t have to turn to know Slash wore a smug grin.
This was definitely a mama bird moment if there ever was one.
Rather than think too much on the irony of it all, Carver slowly eased the spoon to the boy’s mouth. He watched as the sip went down, then the boy repeated the motion of opening his mouth. This went on and on until the bowl was nearly empty.
Only then did Carver pull back. Without turning, he extended the bowl to Slash. “Take this to the kitchen.”
His second did as commanded. Carver listened as the door was opened and closed. The boy remained close through it all, his gaze a brand on Carver’s soul.
“You did so good, sweet boy. I’m proud of you.”
The boy shivered as his eyes went wide. It was an interesting reaction. He wondered if it was because the boy so rarely received any type of praise or if there was some correlation. Carver hoped it was the former since the other would likely enrage him.
As time passed, Carver soaked in what it felt like to have the boy’s undivided attention. The energy between them crackled with something he couldn’t quite name. He longed to take care of this young man in every way. It wasn’t even sexual. More that he needed to know the boy learned he held value.
If Carver wanted to fuck, then he could walk downstairs and fill any hole he wanted. It was his right as prez to do so.
But the hunger that often lurked inside him wasn’t there. It had been replaced by this caregiving mindset. There was a fulfillment that came from knowing the boy was cared for that felt better than any fuck he’d had in years.
“Do you think you’re ready for a bath?” Carver asked after a while.
The boy looked past him to the open bathroom door. It was further proof he understood everyone. It was also frustrating because Carver wanted him to use his words. He longed to hear what the boy sounded like.
Rather than ask again, Carver shifted to the side and held his hand out.
It would be enough of a signal to the boy to follow him if that’s what he was inclined to do.
While Carver believed he needed to get cleaned up, he couldn’t force the process.
A big part of earning and building trust meant giving the boy autonomy of his life.
Much to Carver’s shock, the boy took his hand. As he watched, the boy eased from the cage and sat back on his heels.
Carver grinned at the sight. The boy shuddered, almost as if he were cold. That turned his smile into a frown.
“Let’s get you in a warm bath,” he said as he slowly rose. “Come now, sweet boy. Stand for me.”
As the young man rose, Carver kept a close eye on him. There was a big chance he’d waver with how little he’d been eating lately.
The second he had the thought, the boy’s body began to tilt. Carver swept him into his arms in a quick, fluid movement. He didn’t even stop to think. His reaction had been knee jerk.
But now he had the boy in his arms, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to let him go again.
Carver shook his head at the thought. It was foolish of him to get so caught up. It was wrong of him to be enamored with someone who needed time to heal and learn to navigate their new life. He’d be taking advantage of the boy if he let his feelings be known.
Which is why he pushed them all down. There would be a time and a place for emotions later.
Stepping into the bathroom, Carver eased him down on the bathroom counter. Then he went to the tub and began filling it with warm water. When he rose again, the boy was watching him intently as always.
Carver grinned as he stood before the boy. “I’m going to take off the bandages for now. Doc said it was fine for you to bathe so long as I keep an eye on things, ok?”
The boy didn’t respond. It wasn’t as if Carver expected him to.
So he went about taking off the dressings and ensuring a bath would be possible.
When he had them all gone, Carver took in the blemishes marking the young man before him.
Rage swept through him at the knowledge of what this boy had been through.
He hated knowing the past would likely stay with him forever.
Carver wanted the boy to only know happiness and love. He wanted him to be protected from everything that even tried to show him otherwise.
“Now we have to take your clothes off to get you in the tub. Are you ok to do this alone, or do you need my help?”
The question was necessary. Again, Carver couldn’t assume anything when it came to this situation.
As the boy slid from the counter and tugged at his clothes, Carver took that as the answer he needed. He turned to leave, only to stop as a whine echoed around him. Whipping around, he saw the boy wide eyed in a sort of panic.
Carver rushed back over to him and bent low enough to meet his eyes. “You want me to stay, don’t you?”
The boy’s head tilted just the slightest amount. Carver grinned at the progress, then motioned for the last of the clothing. “Finish undressing and climb in. I’ll turn to give you privacy, but I won’t leave.”
As he turned, Carver heard the sound of fabric hitting the floor, then there was the distinct noise of water being displaced. When a quick succession of splashes came, he took that as his cue to turn around.
His knees nearly buckled when he did. The boy looked like something from olden times sitting in the steaming bath water with his golden curls, soft face, and open expression.
If Carver had any type of artistic skill, then he’d want to paint variations of this exact moment for the rest of his days.
He knew he’d never be able to capture its true state.
The boy watched as Carver gathered the supplies they’d need for the bath. After depositing them on the ledge, he took up a stool and eased it beside the tub. Crossing one leg over the other, Carver watched the boy’s face for any sign of discomfort.
None came. It was almost like the warm water and Carver’s proximity gave him reprieve from whatever haunted him enough to keep him wanting to live in a cage.
“You can soak for a bit, but then you need to bathe. You’ll feel better once clean, sweet boy,” Carver said, voice gentle.
Minutes passed as they sat together quietly. Eventually, the boy did pick up the washcloth and bar of soap. He stared at them for a moment before looking at Carver.
Carver wasn’t sure what the emotions floating across the boy’s face meant. Instead of thinking on it too hard, he reached out to assist the boy.
“You wet the towel first, then rub it on the soap. Next you scrub your skin. Be gentle since you have lots of boo-boos.” Carver jolted at his own words. What the fuck?
He continued explaining the process. “You start with your face and work your way down until everything is clean.”
Never in a million years would Carver have thought this type of conversation would be something he’d have. Especially not with another seemingly grown man.
But when he thought of how long the boy had been held, Carver knew it made sense. Who else would have taught him the basics? Who would have guided him in all the things he needed to do each day?
Carver doubted anyone cared enough. They likely treated him like the pet they’d called him. For that reason alone, Carver avoided taking over for the boy. He needed to do this himself rather than be bathed by another person.
After a long, slow bath, Carver stood to grab the towel. He spoke as he moved around the bathroom, careful to stay in the boy’s sight so he wouldn’t panic like he had before. Carver wanted to reassure him there was no need to worry or fear.
Helping the boy from the bath was a test of his willpower. Carver kept his gaze on the boy as he wrapped him in the towel and guided him back into the bedroom.
“Now you dry your body off while I get some clothes. Head to toe, just like before.”
When he turned to get the clothes, he found himself looking at the mirror on the wall above his dresser.
In it, he could see the way the boy watched him.
Then he saw the boy looking at the towel as he pondered his next moves.
Carver opened drawers blindly, his gaze unable to stray too far from the boy.
Only once the drying process actually began did he turn away. The boy deserved some bit of privacy. Carver was certain he’d never had such before.
After pulling out one of the pairs of comfy sweats he’d had Hex go purchase the day before, Carver waited a moment longer before looking in the mirror. The sight there had him spinning in an instant.
The boy was no longer standing in the middle of the room. He’d taken the towel to the bed — to Carver’s bed — and had curled up under it as he buried his face in Carver’s pillow.
While the sight made Carver’s heart soar in ways he’d never experienced, he also feared what this meant. Was the boy getting an unhealthy attachment to him? Was this a savior complex type of thing?
He knew he’d have to talk to Fury and Doc about it. Those two would be the best to answer all the millions of questions piling up in his head.