Chapter 7
Evander
Kasey didn’t just go still; he went limp.
One moment, he was holding himself as still as possible, even as arousal thrummed through his system. Then the next, as I wrapped a hand around his hard, leaking cock, he swayed, spraying his release over my hand and his lap.
I caught him, helping support his body to lay him down, legs dangling over the side of the bed.
For a heartbeat, I just stared at him, holding his far too fragile body. His breathing was shallow, but steady; eyelashes fluttered against pale cheeks.
Today was not going like I wanted; like I expected.
“Kasey.” I sighed, swiping a stray piece of hair from his forehead.
I shouldn’t have been surprised. I should have expected this. Any Omega in a place like this wouldn’t been conditioned within an inch of themselves. Trained to whatever an Alpha wanted, even before the Alpha themselves knew.
But I hadn’t expected this. Not from the sweet boy I once knew.
I hadn’t come here for release, and I sure hell hadn’t come here to use him. I only wanted to see him, to hold him, to make sure he was real, to get him out of this place before anyone realized what I intended.
But seeing him like this… seeing how quickly he folded, how instinctively he obeyed, how he didn’t even try to resist…
He really was the “perfect omega” any Alpha in this building would want.
The thought hit harder than I was ready for. He’d been trained too well. So, well that his body reacted before his mind ever had a chance. So well, that instinct had replaced the choice.
Did he even understand what he was doing? Or was he just following patterns carved into him over the years? Did I truly want the answer?
No. Absolutely not.
I refused to dwell on the way he’d responded to commands, or how effortlessly he’d surrendered control. I refused to think about how beautiful he’d looked in that moment of pure instinct, because none of that was him. Not really.
It was what they’d made him. And I was going to undo every bit of it.
Kasey came back to consciousness slowly, like someone rising through deep water. I saw it in the tiny shifts first. The faint twist of his fingers, the uneven flutter of his lashes, the way his breath caught in his throat before settling again.
I stayed perfectly still, afraid that even breathing too loudly might startle him.
When his eyes finally cracked open, they were unfocused, hazy, drifting over the room without landing on anything. He looked lost. Like he was waiting for someone to tell him what to do before he dared to move.
He just lay there, pliant and quiet, as if waking up on a bed with an Alpha was something he’d been trained to accept.
“Easy,” I mumbled, keeping my voice low. “You’re alright.”
His gaze flickered towards me, not quite meeting mine. His pupils widened, his breathing stuttered, and for a moment, just a single moment, I thought maybe he’d speak. Instead, he forced his body to relax as he awaited orders.
When seconds ticked by, and no orders came, he slowly forced himself to sit up. His arm was weak, barely holding his weight up.
“Hey there.”
He dipped his head, refusing to meet my eyes.
“How ‘bout we get you cleaned up?”
His eyes flickered towards me, then dropped to the mess drying on his stomach and legs. A flush rose across his cheeks, deep and immediate, as if the simple fact of me seeing him like this was something he should be ashamed of.
If we weren’t here, if we weren’t trapped in these roles of Omega and Alpha, I might’ve found the blush endearing. Sweet, even. A reminder of the boy he used to be.
Instead, a pit opened my stomach.
Disgust. Not at him. Never at him. But to myself.
At the fact that I’d let any of this happen. At the fact that he’d responded to the way he had, not out of desire, but out of conditioning so deep, he probably didn’t even understand it.
He’d done exactly what he’d been trained to do. And I let him.
Kasey gave a tiny nod before trying to slide off the bed. His movements were slow, shaky, like he was running on instinct alone.
The moment his feet touched the floor, his knees buckled.
I caught him before he hit the ground, his weight collapsing into my chest. He felt too light, too weak, too worn down to be standing at all. And holding him like that, limp exhausted, embarrassed, made the guilt settle even heavier in my bones.
I should have protected him. Not added to the damage.
After another moment, after Kasey found his feet and stood to his full height, head bowed and hands at his sides, did I let go.
With a hand on his back, I led the way towards the bathroom, each step slow as Kasey fought to keep his body going.
“When we get home, you can take a nice long bath. My tub has jects, and I probably have some bubble bath.”
I didn’t expect a response from Kasey as we stepped into the bathroom, and I didn’t get one. He moved beside me like he was still half-asleep, half gone, following only because I guided him.
“Sit, sweetheart.” My voice came out softer than I intended, and I eased him down onto the closed toilet lid. He obeyed without hesitation, without even lifting his eyes. That alone twisted something in my chest.
I turned away for a moment, searching for something, anything, to clean him up with. A stack of folded towels sat beneath the sink, neatly arranged, untouched. I grabbed one and ran it under warm water, watching the cloth darken as it soaked through.
The simple act of preparing it felt strangely intimate, strangely heavy. I shouldn’t have been doing this. He shouldn’t have needed anyone to. But here we were. And he was too quiet. Too still. Too trained.
I wrung out the cloth and turned back to him, a heart tight in my throat.
Kasey didn’t resist when I lifted his chin or guided his posture. He didn’t even blink. He just sat there on the closed lid, hands resting loosely in his lap; eyes lowered in that empty, practiced way.
I knelt in front of him, bringing the warm cloth to his skin. I started with his hands, wiping away dried residue. His skin was cold, almost clammy, and far too thin beneath my touch. He watched me work with a distant, unfocused gaze, as if he wasn’t sure whether he was allowed to move.
“You’re alright,” I whispered, though I wasn’t sure he heard me. “I’ve got you.”
I moved slowly, cleaning the mess from his skin with gentle strokes, trying not to think about how he’d gotten this way. Trying not to think about how easily he’d slipped into obedience. Trying not to think about how he’d passed out afterwards, like his body had simply given up.
He stayed pliant the entire time, breathing shallowly; shoulders rounded in quiet submission.
This wasn’t the boy I remember. This wasn’t Kasey who used to laugh in my mother’s kitchen.
This was someone shaped by fear and repetition. Someone who’d learned to disappear inside himself. And every second I spent wiping him clean and made the guilt deeper in my bones.
When I finished, I set the cloth aside and rested a hand lightly on his knees. “Kasey. Look at me.”
It took a long moment, but eventually, his eyes lifted hesitantly.
The emptiness in them nearly broke me. There were so many things I wanted to say. So many words that would likely mean nothing to someone who didn’t remember who I was.
His gaze was unfocused, like he was fighting through layers of fog just to find me. When his eyes finally met mine, even for that brief moment, I felt something crack inside me.
I drew in a breath, forcing myself to stay calm, steady, and something he could anchor to. “You’re alright, sweetheart.”
His breathing hitched, barely noticeable unless you were watching it.
I lifted my hand, brushing my thumb gently along the side of his face. “You don’t have to hold yourself so tightly. You’ll going to be safe now.”
He blinked once, slow and heavy, as if the words were trying to reach him but didn’t quite know where to land.
I learned a little closer, lowering my voice. “Kasey…. I’m taking you home.”
His fingers twitched in his lap, a tiny involuntary movement that told me more than words ever could. He didn’t understand. Or he didn’t believe him.
So, I kept going. “Not go back to the room. Not to another Alpha. Not to anyone else. You’re coming with me. Away from here.”
Another blink. Another small tremor in his hands.
I cupped the back of his neck carefully, grounding him with the warmth of my palm. “You don’t have to do anything,” I whispered. “Just stay with me. I’ll handle the rest.”
His breath shuddered out of him, soft and uneven.
For the first time since I’d walked into the room, he looked like he might actually be present, even if it were merely a moment.