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“Wait,” he said, “please,” even though what he really wanted to say was Fuck right off and fuck you.

The master backed off instantly, and that single gesture—a legal and ethical expectation among freemen but a courtesy and consideration a slave could never, ever expect—took Daniel’s fire right along with it. The anger dimmed, and he lost the courage to confront the master, even when he said, voice full of care and concern, “What is it, Daniel? Talk to me.”

Daniel shook his head, frustration burning his eyes and throat. He didn’t want to cry in front of this man. Especially not when the worst was already over.

Or so he hoped, anyway.

“It’s okay, Daniel.” The master brushed fingertips under Daniel’s left eye, which was stinging with tears. “It’s okay. I mean it, no one’s ever going to hurt you like this again, least of all me. You understand?”

“Yes, Master,” he said, breathless, voice shaking. He wanted desperately to believe it, but he’d learned long ago that nothing was ever so simple, so easy, given so freely. Besides . . . “You won’t . . . I mean, don’t you want me to—?” He couldn’t finish, afraid that saying it might somehow summon it, remind the master of why he’d bought him. Yet at the same time, he had to know.

The master coughed up a noise that might have been a laugh, pressed another kiss to the top of Daniel’s head and rubbed his hands up and down Daniel’s back. “Of course I want you, Daniel. I’ve wanted you for years. But it’s you, Daniel—your mind, your experiences, your sense of humor, your passion for the work we do, your bravery and your determination and your stubbornness. We even live in the same damn fishbowl, Daniel; that’s what I wanted to share with you. I wanted a friend. Someone who understands this life we live. It was never just about sex, and I’d never force you or hurt you. It doesn’t have to be . . .” He paused, puffed a hard sigh against Daniel’s hair. “It’s supposed to be good, Daniel, it’s supposed to make you feel good. Whoever did this to you . . . They were cruel. They were bastards. It’s not supposed to be like that; I wouldn’t ever make it be like that, I promise.”

Another kiss to the crown of his head, and Daniel turned his face up to study the master’s openly, to look into his eyes and read the truth he saw there. The fierce conviction.

This man meant every word he’d said.

And in an instant, Daniel was furious again. They didn’t share shit, and how dare he presume to think so, to be so certain that just because he wanted Daniel, Daniel should want him in return? How dare he claim to want Daniel’s stubbornness and determination, yet try to return him when he got it?

The master, dense as ever, seemed not to notice Daniel’s fury. Just kissed him on the forehead and said, “I will never, ever hurt you, this way or any other. Do you understand me?”

“But you did,” he blurted, and the master looked just as horrified as Daniel felt at what he’d let come out of his mouth.

The master slowly rose from his squat at Daniel’s feet, sat down on the couch next to him, never taking his eyes off Daniel the whole time. If he meant it, if he meant what he’d just said about never hurting Daniel, then talk would come next rather than discipline. But the day had been too long and entirely too bleak for Daniel to get his hopes up.

Until the master turned sideways on the couch to meet Daniel’s eyes, took Daniel’s hand in his, and said, “You’re right. And I’m sorry.” The master’s eyes were watering, his lips pressed flat and unhappy. His gaze darted down to their joined hands, lingered a moment at the bruises on Daniel’s wrists, then crawled slowly back up to Daniel’s eyes. “This is my fault. All of this. I was careless and I didn’t think and I got you hurt, and I can never apologize enough for what happened to you today because of me. But I hope that maybe one day you’ll be able to forgive me, and in the meanwhile, I’m going to do everything I can to regain— No, because I never earned it in the first place, did I? I’m going to do everything I can to earn your trust, Daniel.”

Daniel blinked at the master for he didn’t even know how long, brow furrowed, lip curled in confusion. His hand in the master’s was sweaty, shaking, and if brains could sweat and shake too, his would be doing both right now. He couldn’t . . . he didn’t understand. “I . . . Are you saying . . .” He shook his head, shook it again. The anger had poofed away, and he wanted it back because it was so much easier than this, whatever this was. So much clearer. “I was a bad slave,” he said slowly, testing these strange new waters. “I was terrible to you. Ungrateful. Willful. Obstinate.”

But the master was shaking his head before Daniel could even finish. “No,” he said. “No. I was a bad master. Do you realize . . . I mean, we’ve never really talked, you know? I should’ve told you myself how I was feeling, what I wanted. I should’ve been clearer. And I should’ve known . . .” His free hand squeezed Daniel’s knee, chaste and urgent. “I should’ve known that Eric would be so damn literal about his promise. I was a fucking moron, and I would’ve never said a word to him if I’d realized, Daniel. I wouldn’t have. I don’t want to send you away, and even if I did, I’d never have knowingly sent you back to . . .” He tossed his hand up, horror stamped clear across his face. “To that.”

“You won’t do it again?” Daniel asked, outrageous as it was to question the master like that, but the man was clearly in a repentant mood and Daniel needed to know. Needed to hear it direct from the master’s mouth, because the man had been an idiot. Criminally so, if he really hadn’t understood the way his actions would have consequences. Daniel’s head was spinning with the implications of the last few minutes, with the way the master was looking at him, begging him for understanding and forgiveness, with the power and the strangeness of that. But it wasn’t enough, not quite. Before he could truly hope to trust the man again, he needed the promise.

“No, Daniel. I won’t.” He squeezed Daniel’s hands, and when he blinked, the moisture in his eyes spilled over, one tear down each cheek. “I swear I won’t. I’m so sorry. I’ll do better. I swear.”

Daniel sniffed back his own tears. This time, he really did believe the master, his relief so profound that for a moment he couldn’t even name it, couldn’t identify the release of the tension he’d been carrying for so long, the panic and the helplessness and the fear. Only after the tears came again and he didn’t bother to stop them did he understand: he’d endured a terrible thing, but it was over now, it was over, and there were strong arms around him and the safety of a man who cared, who wanted to protect him, who’d sworn to protect him and was strong enough to say he was sorry and take responsibility and shelter him, like no one had since Victor, since his mother, and he wept into his master’s shoulder without shame and soaked in the comfort the man offered.

The master pressed his face into Daniel’s hair and breathed deep, stroked hands up and down his arms, his back, held him tight and peppered his head with kisses. Daniel tilted his wet face back and let those kisses fall on his forehead, his nose, his chin, took a deep breath and let the next one fall across his lips. Thanking the man the best way he knew how, and not minding it after all.

The master froze, panting slightly, soft breaths puffing across Daniel’s mouth, and with the utmost care he placed another small, dry kiss upon Daniel’s lips. He asked for nothing more, took nothing more. It didn’t feel like being used, Daniel thought. It felt, shockingly enough, like being loved.

Daniel awoke as he’d fallen asleep: cocooned in his master’s arms, snug against a warm chest, two pillows, and three blankets. He hurt everywhere—except, he realized, the one place that mattered most.

He wasn’t afraid.

“Are you okay?” the master murmured into the back of his head.

The fear returned in a flash; had he done something to wake the man? The sun had barely risen, he’d be angry—

“Daniel?”

No, not angry. Daniel’s heart calmed, and he chided himself for succumbing to instinct. He wasn’t an animal; he didn’t have to let it rule him.

“Yes, Master,” he said. It might even have been the truth.

“Good.” The master kissed the back of his head again. “But I’m calling us out sick today anyway.”

Daniel hadn’t even finished taking a breath for his protest before the master added, “Don’t bother. There’s no arguing with me about this.”