Page 10 of Anchored

There was a bottle of water at his mouth then, and a gentle hand in his sweat-soaked hair, and he swished and spat and took a long swallow, but that little bit of moisture had no hope at all of dousing the flames still curling straight through to his bones.

“Can you stand?”

He heard but couldn’t quite process the question. Felt the pull in his shoulders and elbows and wrists but couldn’t figure out how to make it stop. Just hung there, chest heaving, chasing oxygen from the superheated air, cheek pressed to the cool metal of the pole.

More words bled through his haze, and then there were hands on his wrists and ankles undoing his bonds, a shoulder under his arm to stop him from falling. He turned slowly and blinked up at Maxwell, lifted a numb, trembling hand to wipe tears from his face. “’s done?” he asked.

Maxwell eased him to the floor and propped him against his chest, saying, “Yeah. All done.”

Daniel closed his eyes and let his head fall against Maxwell’s shoulder, struggling to rein in his frantic breaths, to push the agony back far enough to function through. His fingers clenched tight in Maxwell’s shirt, and he mumbled, “’m sorry,” then said it again, a little stronger, just to make sure he’d been heard.

“I know,” Maxwell said, his hand smoothing across Daniel’s hair.

“’m I bleeding?”

“A little. Just a few shallow cuts; some Band-Aids will do the trick.”

That was hard to believe given the way he felt, but Daniel knew his boss wouldn’t lie to him. He was still panting into Maxwell’s shoulder, fighting to pull himself together, when Maxwell asked, “You going to be sick?”

Unable to speak anymore, Daniel just shook his head. He heard someone say, “Better go get Tim,” and then nothing else for a while.

Daniel woke up facedown on the couch in his office, pulled from sleep by an insistent, throbbing burn from his calves to his shoulders. He made the mistake of trying to sit up and groaned, fisting hands into the cushions and panting until the spots faded from his eyes.

“Here.” A hand holding three Tylenol and a bottle of water moved into his peripheral vision. He had to sit up to swallow the pills, and the hand helped him with that too. The world grayed out for a second, and when it came back, he was leaning shoulder to shoulder with Tim, carefully keeping the pressure off most of the welts on his back.

“Fuck,” he said softly after swallowing the pills.

“Yeah,” Tim agreed.

Daniel took a long pull on his water and asked, a hint of accusation in his tone, “Did you know it was going to be that bad?”

Tim shook his head, a silent apology stamped on his face that they both knew Daniel didn’t deserve.

“Did I— I think I fought them.”

“A little toward the end there, Maxwell said. You must’ve been out of your head by then, though. Nobody blames you.” Tim smiled wanly and added, “That’s why God made restraints, right?”

Another swig, and the bottle was empty. Tim magically produced a new one, and Daniel chugged half of that down, too. He felt like he’d sweated out gallons of water. “How’d I get here?”

“Walked. I came and got you. Don’t you remember?”

He closed his eyes, probed gently backward. His postpunishment memories were empty of all but agony and a vague recollection of Maxwell stroking his hair. “How long was I out?”

“About half an hour. And I’m afraid I have more bad news for you.”

Eyes still closed, Daniel dropped his aching head in his hands and moaned.

“You haven’t done anything wrong,” Tim said, patting his knee. “Well, nothing new wrong. But given your recent lapses and the identity of your new master, corporate has asked me to talk to you about confidentiality.”

Daniel was too pissy and in too much pain to censor himself in front of Tim; he side-eyed the guy with real malice and spat, “Oh, what, you think I’m going to spill company secrets to Carl while he’s got his cock shoved up my ass?”

Tim winced. Good. Daniel was equally glad—though not at all surprised—to see no anger at all on Tim’s face. Just guilt and sympathy. “Come on, Daniel, that’s not fair. You know I trust you. It’s just . . . there’s always a potential for corporate espionage, and your master’s a clever man, and he’s in a position of power over you. Nonetheless, you still have an obligation to protect the intellectual property of this company and its standing in the rankings.”

Daniel’s expression didn’t change at all; he felt ugly, accusing, the anger in him rising by the second. “You’re right. He is in a position of power over me. In case you couldn’t tell from all the welts on my back, I’m not exactly allowed to tell him no. What am I supposed to say if he asks, huh?” He wanted to stand, to stare Tim down, to shake him until he admitted how unfair the world was. But he did none of those things, couldn’t trust even Tim’s goodwill that far. Said instead, soft and wounded, “How could you put me in this position?”

Tim’s gaze slunk away from Daniel’s, and even through the fury, the betrayal, Daniel felt a little thrill of satisfaction at that, at the tacit acknowledgment. “Carl knows the rules, Daniel. He knows you’re not allowed to discuss confidential information, and if he tries to punish you for upholding your duties to this company, he’ll lose his leasing rights and the money he paid for them.” Tim paused a moment, like he was hoping Daniel would say, Oh, okay, that makes everything just peachy, then. When Daniel didn’t, Tim added, gaze still on the floor, “So, look, I know it can be a sticky situation, and I’m sorry about that, but you’ll just have to work around it if it comes up.”

Great. Just fucking great. An hour ago, he’d been terrified that Carl had only leased him to fuck him. Now he was terrified that Carl had leased him to talk to him, and he’d slip up and say something he shouldn’t have and he’d end up right back in the basement, or worse.