Chapter 11
Charlie
Awareness came slowly. Not in a rush like a waterfall’s water falling over the edge of a cliff, though maybe it should have. Instead, it crept in piece by piece, and I wasn’t sure what to do with any of it.
I kept my eyes closed, letting the soft touches along my scalp anchor me. Each caress was gentle, almost tender enough to pull me back toward the place I’d just drifted from.
My knees ached beneath me, but that was easy to ignore. Pain like that had long since become background noise. I’d been trained to overlook it. To stay still. To serve without flinching.
This moment was no different. Except maybe it was. Because the hands in my hair didn’t demand. They lingered. And that, somehow, was harder to process than the ache.
I gradually opened my eyes, like my body wasn’t quite ready to let go of sleep.
The living room was dim, the curtains not yet opened all the way. My cheek rested against Alpha Harris’s thigh, the fabric soft beneath my skin.
I didn’t move right away, even though I probably should have. Clients didn’t like cuddling, or clingy boys.
I blinked slowly, letting the room come into focus piece by piece, the quiet hum of the house, the steady rhythm of the Alpha’s breathing, the weight of a hand still resting gently in my hair.
It hadn’t left. That surprised me. Most hands didn’t stay. Nice touches didn’t last.
I shifted slightly to look up. Alpha Harris was watching me, calm, unreadable, present. No command. No question. Just quiet acknowledgment. And for a moment, I didn’t feel like he had to brace. I just existed in a quiet space that I never wanted to pop.
“Hello.” His eyes were alight with something akin to proudness.
What had I done to make him proud of me?
“Hi, Sir?” I somehow got the words to come forth, although my mouth was dry and my mind was still hazy.
“You follow orders very well.”
Well, yeah, What else was expected of me other than that?
“Do you know what subspace is?”
I gave a slow shake of my head, the motion barely more than a breath.
My feet had started to tingle, pins and needles creeping in from how long I’d stayed still. But I didn’t move. Didn’t want to.
His hand brushed gently along my hairline, fingertips sweeping a strand off my forehead with quiet care. My eyes threatened to close again, drawn to the softness of the touch.
It was grounding. And in that moment, I didn’t need to understand the word. I was already floating somewhere close to it
“You’re close to it,” he said quietly. “Subspace.”
I didn’t respond, my mind so close back to that floaty place I had been moments before.
“It’s not just about what’s done to you,” he continued. “It’s about what falls away. Thought. Time. Fear.” He paused, letting the silence stretch. “It’s a place where everything slows down. Where your body remembers safety, even if your mind doesn’t trust it yet.”
His thumb brushed gently across my temple. “I’ve seen people chase it like a high. But for me… it’s never been about escape.”
He looked down at me, still nestled against him, my eyes half-lidded but aware. I couldn’t look away, even if I wanted to.
“It’s about presence. About being so still, so open, that you stop bracing for the worst.” The Alpha’s voice dropped lower, almost to a whisper. “And when someone lets me see them like that—when they let go without breaking—I don’t take it lightly.”
He didn’t say more. Didn’t need to. Because I was already there, hovering at the edge of something fragile and real.
I didn’t speak right away. The words sat heavy in my chest, like they’d been waiting for permission to surface.
His hand was still in my hair, steady, patient and somehow, that made it harder to ignore the ache behind my ribs.
“I don’t know what safety feels like,” I said quietly. The words came out raw, almost brittle.
The Lockswell House wasn’t safe, not really. I may be safe from people who wanted to hurt me, but they still got to me either way. I’ve been hurt there, almost to the point of death.
“I know how to survive. I know how to stay quiet, how to move without being noticed. I know how to make myself small.” I swallowed, eyes fixed on the floor.
“But this—” I gestured faintly, not even lifting my hand.
“This stillness. This quiet. It doesn’t feel real.
” The touch alone couldn’t be real. It wasn’t hurting.
Alpha Harris wasn’t yelling or using me.
He didn’t interrupt. Didn’t try to fix it.
And that, more than anything, made me want to keep talking.
“Everyone always hurts me. Either with their hands or words. Most of the time it’s both.
There’s never any escape from it. I’m trained to be what any Alpha wants; that’s all I know.
But this.” Again I motion to whatever was happening here, my words flowing too well which was very unlike me, “It scares me. I don’t know how to serve you, Sir. You aren’t like the others.”
He wasn’t what I expected. Sure, there was still plenty of time to change that, though. Alpha Harris could easily show his hand, demanding my full submission in a matter of seconds. He could so easily hit me, use me, or degrade me if he so wished.
And I wouldn’t be able to do a single thing against it.
I dropped my eyes to my lap, hands twisting against one another.
“Look at me, boy.”
I did. I did look up, I wasn’t sure what I’d find, but it wasn’t anything like what others had looked at me before.
“I’m a kind man, Charles. I don’t want to cause you pain. I want an Omega to tend to, just as the Omega is to tend to my needs, also. But with it, comes communication and trust.”
I didn’t even trust myself.
“Trust takes time on both partners, and I don’t expect that to be easy for you. But moments just like this, is what I crave the most.”
His hand traced along my hairline again, slow and deliberate, before settling to cup my face. His palm cradled my chin, lifting it gently until I had no choice but to meet his gaze.
I wanted to look away. Every instinct told me to. But I didn’t. Couldn’t.
His eyes held mine, steady and unreadable.
“I’ll enjoy your company, sweet boy,” he said, voice low, almost tender. “I won’t harm you.” He leaned in, close enough that his breath brushed my cheek, the next words meant only for me. “Instead… I’m going to show you what it feels like to be kept without fear.”
The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was a promise. And I didn’t know what to do with that.
His words lingered in the air, soft and deliberate.
Kept without fear.
I wanted to believe him, but belief didn’t come easy. Not after everything. Not after the first time I was off the Lockswell property. Not after all the clients that said they only wanted to play, and ended up leaving lasting welts on my body.
I stayed still, letting his hand remain where it was, letting the warmth of it settle against my skin.
But inside, something twisted. Not panic. Not resistance. Just doubt. The kind that had been carved into me over time—slowly, until it felt like truth.
People didn’t keep me. They used me. They tolerated me. then, they’d return to do it all over again. And then the system would just repeat.
I didn’t answer him. Not with words but with silence. Because I didn’t know how to say, “I want to believe you,” without also saying, “I don’t know how.”
And somehow, I think he understood that too.
“It’s okay to not talk, or talk however much you want. I’ll listen either way. Sometimes,” Alpha Harris dropped his hand, setting it on his thigh. “Sometimes, the silence speaks more than words ever could.”
It took a moment for me to drop my eyes from his face. His words spoke more than anything else ever could.
It was in the silence where my thoughts got the best of me.
` It was in the silence where I read what a client wanted.
It was in the silence where it all began and where it all ended.
“I told you already,” his words were kind and gentle, as though he knew just how fragile I was. I could shatter into a million pieces with the right words or a certain movement.
I felt weak, destroyed in a way that rocked me to my core.
This man saw things that no one else had. He looked, and picked up pieces that I couldn’t put a name to.
And all of that in a matter of hours of knowing me.
Alpha Harris continued, pulling my attention back to him with quiet certainty.
“I’m not a demanding man,” he said, voice low and steady.
“At least, I don’t believe I am. I want more moments like this.
Where you find ease in serving me, not pressure.
Where it feels like something you choose, not something you endure.
” He paused, letting the words settle. “And in return,” softer now, “I get to rest in knowing that I’m doing right by you. ”
It wasn’t a promise, but as close to one that I’ve ever heard. And somehow, that made it harder to dismiss.
“Now, a very important question. It’s okay to say no.” I looked up at him, my gaze slow to move up. “Do you want to go get the items for the stew, or I can order them to be delivered.”
“What-“
“Not what I want. It’s up to you.”
I opened and closed my mouth, not sure how to answer that. I wasn’t created to make choices. I wasn’t trained to do anything but serve, and I’d already stepped over that line by voicing something I probably shouldn’t have.
“Go out?” I answered with a question.
If I ever did happen to get claimed by an Alpha, shopping and getting items from a store would be on the long list of things I’d have to attend to on a daily basis. And maybe, if Alpha Harris was as nice as he has been so far, the first outing may not be so bad.
“Great choice. Go get ready, use the bathroom, and get a drink of water. I’ll be doing the same.”
It took me longer than usual to find my footing. When I finally stood, sharp tingles shot through my feet—like needles, relentless and sudden. I winced before I could stop myself, the pain too quick to hide.
Alpha Harris moved instantly, rising to his feet with quiet urgency. His hands landed lightly on my shoulders, steady, like he was ready to catch me if I faltered.
“What’s wrong?”
I swallowed, trying to shift my weight without grimacing. “My feet fell asleep.”
He didn’t dismiss it like everyone else would have. He stayed close, like that simple discomfort was worth his attention
“Next time,” because there would be, and I almost wanted it to be right at that second, “You are to tell me if you have any discomfort. Any at all. No matter what we are doing, even if it’s as simple as needing to release your bladder.”
“Yes, Sir.” Did he really want to know every time I needed to use the bathroom?
“You alright to walk on your own?” Again, the question threw me. Not just because it was asked, but also how it was spoken. Like my discomfort bothered him more than it did me.
“Yes, Sir. I can walk.”
The tingling in my feet was nothing compared to what I’d been through. He didn’t ask, and I doubted he wanted to know.
The training that shaped me into what I was supposed to be wasn’t something people liked hearing about. It was full of pain. Lessons taught through silence and punishment.
But none of it prepared me for this. Not for kindness. No one ever taught me how to respond when someone offered softness without strings.
Alpha Harris dipped his head toward the stairs, stepping back just enough to give me space.
“Go on then,” he said quietly. “I’ll meet you by the front door when you’re done.”
I nodded, stepping past him. Still unsure what to do with the space he gave me. Still unsure what it meant to be given anything at all.
I moved slowly up the stairs. Each step sent a dull ache through my feet, but I didn’t flinch.
Halfway up, my hand brushed the banister, and something in the texture pulled me back mentally.
To a hallway lined with concrete walls and fluorescent lights buzzing overhead.
A voice barking orders. Knees on tile. Hands behind my back.
“Stillness is earned,” they’d said. “Not given.”
I’d learned to hold my breath for approval. To mistake quiet for safety. To confuse obedience with worth. I had learned to keep my thoughts to myself.
I blinked hard, forcing the memory back into its box. It didn’t belong in this house, where the floor didn’t smell of bleach.