Anchored: Belonging Book One
Network news anchor Daniel Halstrom is at the top of his field, but being at the bottom of the social ladder—being a slave—makes that hard to enjoy. Especially when NewWorld Media, the company who's owned him since childhood, decides to lease him on evenings and weekends to boost their flagging profits.
Daniel's not stupid; he knows there's only one reason a man would pay so much for what little free time he has, and it's got nothing to do with his knowledge of current events. But he's never been made to serve like that before, and he fears he won't survive the experience with his sanity intact.
He finds himself in the home of Carl Whitman, a talk show host whose words fail him time and again when it comes to ordering Daniel to bed. Daniel knows what Carl wants, but it seems as if Carl isn't willing to take it, and Daniel's not willing to give it freely. His recalcitrance costs him dearly, but with patience and some hard-won understanding, love just might flourish where once there'd been only fear and pain. Can Carl become the anchor in Daniel's turbulent life, or will he end up the weight that sinks his slave for good?
Warning: This book contains an on-screen rape (not committed by either hero) and graphic violence.
Genre: Alternate universe, contemporary, slave fiction, gay erotica, fantasy
Length: 43,000 words (approx 150 pages)
Price: $5.95
ISBN: 978-1-60592-229-4
Daniel's not stupid; he knows there's only one reason a man would pay so much for what little free time he has, and it's got nothing to do with his knowledge of current events. But he's never been made to serve like that before, and he fears he won't survive the experience with his sanity intact.
He finds himself in the home of Carl Whitman, a talk show host whose words fail him time and again when it comes to ordering Daniel to bed. Daniel knows what Carl wants, but it seems as if Carl isn't willing to take it, and Daniel's not willing to give it freely. His recalcitrance costs him dearly, but with patience and some hard-won understanding, love just might flourish where once there'd been only fear and pain. Can Carl become the anchor in Daniel's turbulent life, or will he end up the weight that sinks his slave for good?
Warning: This book contains an on-screen rape (not committed by either hero) and graphic violence.
Genre: Alternate universe, contemporary, slave fiction, gay erotica, fantasy
Length: 43,000 words (approx 150 pages)
Price: $5.95
ISBN: 978-1-60592-229-4
Available at Noble Romance Publishing, Amazon, AllRomanceEbooks, and Bookstrand, and in paperback through Barnes & Noble, Amazon, and other fine retailers . . . but please consider purchasing directly from the publisher!
Immerse yourself in the world of Belonging at BelongingVerse.com!
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Anchored is an AllRomanceEbooks bestseller and Top Reader Rated book in the Sci-fi/Fantasy category!
Reviews
"All I can say is WOW. . . . The book affected me so deeply. The characters, the story, the world-building, and the writing were just superb. I am giving 5/5 stars and would give it more if I could. This is the first book I've read by Rachel Haimowitz, but you better believe it won't be my last." --Rho, The Romance Reviews
"I’m intrigued by the relationship dynamics and world building in Anchored, and I’m anxious to read the next book in the Belonging series and anything else for that matter by author Rachel Haimowitz." --Bryl Tyne, author of Coin Operated Boy, Trey #3, The Zagzagel Diaries, Daydreams, Tough Guy, Boys of the Bite, and more.
"I’m intrigued by the relationship dynamics and world building in Anchored, and I’m anxious to read the next book in the Belonging series and anything else for that matter by author Rachel Haimowitz." --Bryl Tyne, author of Coin Operated Boy, Trey #3, The Zagzagel Diaries, Daydreams, Tough Guy, Boys of the Bite, and more.
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"Fantastic, gripping and emotionally compelling." --Jenre, Reviews by Jessewave
"Intense, emotional, painful, hard to read, yet hard to put down." --I Love Books "From the first page of Anchored, I was hooked. Not just hooked, but I sat at my table not moving for so long my leg fell asleep." --Billi Jean, author of Midnight Star |
"This is an interesting, very compelling look at the way we may be headed if capitalism is left to develop unhindered." --Queer Magazine Online
"This was a great read. . . . I found myself wiping the fog from my glasses . . ." --Reena Jacobs, author of Shadow Cat and Control Freak: Brandon's Story
"Rachel Haimowitz has definitely done a wonderful job with this new series, and I am glad that I decided to begin my re-immersion into the M/M Romance genre with Anchored. I can’t wait to read the next book in the series!" --Shakir Rashan, author of The Awakening: Book I of Chronicles of the Nubian Underworld, Legacy: Book II of Chronicles of the Nubian Underworld, and Deviant Intent: Obsession
"A powerful, moving story of humanity and freedom and the fight to keep a sliver of self." --Alex, Between the Covers
"There is absolutely nothing about Anchored that isn’t heart-pounding and gut-clenching–in the very best and very worst (which is also the best) ways. . . . Highly recommend, two thumbs way up." --Kari Gregg, author of Spoils of War, Lovely Wicked, and What Rough Beast
"This was a great read. . . . I found myself wiping the fog from my glasses . . ." --Reena Jacobs, author of Shadow Cat and Control Freak: Brandon's Story
"Rachel Haimowitz has definitely done a wonderful job with this new series, and I am glad that I decided to begin my re-immersion into the M/M Romance genre with Anchored. I can’t wait to read the next book in the series!" --Shakir Rashan, author of The Awakening: Book I of Chronicles of the Nubian Underworld, Legacy: Book II of Chronicles of the Nubian Underworld, and Deviant Intent: Obsession
"A powerful, moving story of humanity and freedom and the fight to keep a sliver of self." --Alex, Between the Covers
"There is absolutely nothing about Anchored that isn’t heart-pounding and gut-clenching–in the very best and very worst (which is also the best) ways. . . . Highly recommend, two thumbs way up." --Kari Gregg, author of Spoils of War, Lovely Wicked, and What Rough Beast
Chapter One
"Daniel, you're late." Tim threw a warning glance at his watch and added, "News is live, you know."
"Sorry—coming." Daniel snatched his jacket and tie and followed his producer out of his office, wondering if Tim would let his tardiness slip or if he'd be paying for it later. No time to worry about that now, though; Tim left for the control booth, and Daniel made a dash for the stairs, unwilling to wait for the elevator to take him the three floors to the studio. There wouldn't be time for proper makeup or sound checks if he wasn't there in the next minute or so, and he didn't want to get Sara or Mike in trouble.
He trotted into the studio a couple minutes past check-in, breathless and still tying the knot on his tie. Mike handed him his IFB, and the moment he popped the little speaker in his ear, he heard Tim complaining that he looked flushed. Sara must have heard it too, because she came at him with a makeup brush a moment later.
"Sound check, Daniel." Tim again, sounding through his IFB. Daniel spun around to find Mike standing patiently behind him, waiting to run the wire up the back of his jacket. He flashed an apologetic wince at the camera and stood so Mike could do his thing, winced again when Tim scolded him through the IFB. Daniel liked Tim—liked him a lot, in fact—but Tim had bosses to answer to, and if Daniel screwed up anymore tonight, Tim would have to report him.
Get it together, Daniel. Right now.
Yeah, right. Easier said than done. It seemed not even the fear of discipline could turn his thoughts from the issue that had gnawed at him all week: his new part-time owner-to-be, and the new leasing program the company had arranged with so many of its desirable slaves. Daniel had been living in the West Side men's dorm since NewWorld Media had bought him, but starting tonight . . . . Tonight, he'd be sleeping somewhere else. In someone else's home. Calling someone master or mistress again for the first time in over twenty years. And he wasn't some ignorant child anymore; he knew there was just one reason why a person would shell out six figures a month for evenings and weekends with him. He'd never once been made to serve someone in that capacity at InfoGlobe—there were plenty of others less relevant to the company's bottom line to fulfill those needs—but things were clearly changing with NewWorld's debts piling up and share prices--
". . . iel! Damn it, Daniel!"
Shit. Tim. Daniel tried not to look guilty as he turned to camera 1, cleared his throat, and checked the prompter against the script an intern had dropped on his desk. "Yeah, Tim. I'm uh, I'm sorry, I was—" He cut himself off before any bullshit excuses could fall from his lips and compound the problem. "I'm set. Prompter's set."
"Live in thirty," Tim said, a little stern, a little sad, a lot frustrated. Though he didn't say, "Wait for me in your office after the show," Daniel heard the command anyway.
Great, one more thing to worry about.
Even if he had seen it coming.
He wrenched his mind back to the here and now, but still said, "Good evening, my name is Daniel Halstrom, and you're watching Round the Globe with InfoGlobe," a whole three seconds after they went live.
* * * * *
"Look, buddy," Tim said after the show, with entirely more compassion than Daniel knew what to do with. Daniel stripped off and discarded his suit coat, tie, and dress shirt in short, furious, little jerks that would have left his first mistress fainting with horror. "I know you're freaked about tonight, but that's no excuse for what happened in that studio."
"I know." He sighed, stuffing his cufflinks in the pocket of his pants before yanking them down and kicking them off.
Tim watched his angry strip show impassively, Daniel's jeans waiting in his outstretched hand.
When Daniel finally managed to work his pants past his shoes, he snatched the jeans from Tim with a short, prickly, "Thanks."
"But . . . ?" Tim asked, holding out Daniel's T-shirt.
"But what? But nothing. I know better than to make excuses." Daniel snatched his shirt, turning away from Tim and staying that way as he popped his arms through the sleeves. His hands were trembling; he didn't want Tim to see. "I know you have to tell them. I understand. I'll go downstairs first thing tomorrow, okay? They won't even have to restrain me; I'll be good. Ten hours should be plenty of time to recov—"
Tim touched his shoulder, and he flinched, muscles tense.
"Hey," Tim said softly. "Hey. This is really bothering you, isn't it?"
Not daring to turn around lest he look a freeman in the face as he challenged him, he said, "Which part? The imminent torture thing, or the whole being-rented-to-a-stranger-after-twenty-five-years-of-faithful-service thing?" When Tim didn't dignify that with an answer, he tried, "Wouldn't it bother you?"
"That's different. I'm not a slave."
Daniel resisted the very strong urge to roll his eyes, and instead said (most definitely not raising his voice), "Think about it! Being leased off to some total stranger who wants god knows what from you—or worse, god knows exactly what. Like I don't do enough for the company already? They've got to strip me of the few moments of peace I ever have? The few moments of free time I'm allowed? They really—"
—expect me to pretend to want this guy?
Tim squeezed Daniel's shoulder but said nothing. He was rarely speechless, and he respected Daniel enough—slave or no—that maybe he really was listening to what Daniel had to say.
"You're luckier than most, you know," Tim finally said, but it sounded pretty flat to Daniel.
"I know." Daniel nodded. He really was lucky. "I just . . . . What if he—?"
"NewWorld screened the potential lessees very carefully. Especially those who expressed an interest in their most valuable property, of which you most assuredly are. They wouldn't send you to someone who'd mistreat you."
Tim's hand was still on Daniel's shoulder; Daniel shrugged it off and turned to face the man. "You mean they wouldn't send me to someone who would mark me in a way that would show on camera," he said, slowly and purposefully blunt. Gratuitous cruelty wasn't the norm, Daniel knew, but nor was it by any means forbidden. And he'd had plenty of personal experience with the bad shit in his years before InfoGlobe. He also knew damn well that slaves like him—the ones cursed with good looks, the successful ones who'd accomplished more than most freemen—were magnets for bad shit.
Tim grasped Daniel's bare forearms just above the slave bracelets—thin platinum cables bound with rectangular gold links, slim and stunning and masculine without a single ring for binding—and squeezed gently. Daniel looked down at Tim's hands, at his own, at the bracelets so different from the functional iron bands he'd worn twenty-five years ago. Tim was right; NewWorld Media had been good to him. They'd rescued him and his mother from cruel oblivion and given him the world. If this was what they wanted from him in return, well . . . then what kind of ungrateful, spoiled little slat would he be to balk? He deserved the beating he had coming tomorrow.
"Okay?" Tim asked, hands still on his arms, studying him closely. "Good?"
Daniel nodded. "Promise you'll pick me up in the morning?"
Tim laughed, grabbed Daniel's coat, and tossed it to him. "Ten on the dot. Don't make the driver come get you."
"Sorry—coming." Daniel snatched his jacket and tie and followed his producer out of his office, wondering if Tim would let his tardiness slip or if he'd be paying for it later. No time to worry about that now, though; Tim left for the control booth, and Daniel made a dash for the stairs, unwilling to wait for the elevator to take him the three floors to the studio. There wouldn't be time for proper makeup or sound checks if he wasn't there in the next minute or so, and he didn't want to get Sara or Mike in trouble.
He trotted into the studio a couple minutes past check-in, breathless and still tying the knot on his tie. Mike handed him his IFB, and the moment he popped the little speaker in his ear, he heard Tim complaining that he looked flushed. Sara must have heard it too, because she came at him with a makeup brush a moment later.
"Sound check, Daniel." Tim again, sounding through his IFB. Daniel spun around to find Mike standing patiently behind him, waiting to run the wire up the back of his jacket. He flashed an apologetic wince at the camera and stood so Mike could do his thing, winced again when Tim scolded him through the IFB. Daniel liked Tim—liked him a lot, in fact—but Tim had bosses to answer to, and if Daniel screwed up anymore tonight, Tim would have to report him.
Get it together, Daniel. Right now.
Yeah, right. Easier said than done. It seemed not even the fear of discipline could turn his thoughts from the issue that had gnawed at him all week: his new part-time owner-to-be, and the new leasing program the company had arranged with so many of its desirable slaves. Daniel had been living in the West Side men's dorm since NewWorld Media had bought him, but starting tonight . . . . Tonight, he'd be sleeping somewhere else. In someone else's home. Calling someone master or mistress again for the first time in over twenty years. And he wasn't some ignorant child anymore; he knew there was just one reason why a person would shell out six figures a month for evenings and weekends with him. He'd never once been made to serve someone in that capacity at InfoGlobe—there were plenty of others less relevant to the company's bottom line to fulfill those needs—but things were clearly changing with NewWorld's debts piling up and share prices--
". . . iel! Damn it, Daniel!"
Shit. Tim. Daniel tried not to look guilty as he turned to camera 1, cleared his throat, and checked the prompter against the script an intern had dropped on his desk. "Yeah, Tim. I'm uh, I'm sorry, I was—" He cut himself off before any bullshit excuses could fall from his lips and compound the problem. "I'm set. Prompter's set."
"Live in thirty," Tim said, a little stern, a little sad, a lot frustrated. Though he didn't say, "Wait for me in your office after the show," Daniel heard the command anyway.
Great, one more thing to worry about.
Even if he had seen it coming.
He wrenched his mind back to the here and now, but still said, "Good evening, my name is Daniel Halstrom, and you're watching Round the Globe with InfoGlobe," a whole three seconds after they went live.
* * * * *
"Look, buddy," Tim said after the show, with entirely more compassion than Daniel knew what to do with. Daniel stripped off and discarded his suit coat, tie, and dress shirt in short, furious, little jerks that would have left his first mistress fainting with horror. "I know you're freaked about tonight, but that's no excuse for what happened in that studio."
"I know." He sighed, stuffing his cufflinks in the pocket of his pants before yanking them down and kicking them off.
Tim watched his angry strip show impassively, Daniel's jeans waiting in his outstretched hand.
When Daniel finally managed to work his pants past his shoes, he snatched the jeans from Tim with a short, prickly, "Thanks."
"But . . . ?" Tim asked, holding out Daniel's T-shirt.
"But what? But nothing. I know better than to make excuses." Daniel snatched his shirt, turning away from Tim and staying that way as he popped his arms through the sleeves. His hands were trembling; he didn't want Tim to see. "I know you have to tell them. I understand. I'll go downstairs first thing tomorrow, okay? They won't even have to restrain me; I'll be good. Ten hours should be plenty of time to recov—"
Tim touched his shoulder, and he flinched, muscles tense.
"Hey," Tim said softly. "Hey. This is really bothering you, isn't it?"
Not daring to turn around lest he look a freeman in the face as he challenged him, he said, "Which part? The imminent torture thing, or the whole being-rented-to-a-stranger-after-twenty-five-years-of-faithful-service thing?" When Tim didn't dignify that with an answer, he tried, "Wouldn't it bother you?"
"That's different. I'm not a slave."
Daniel resisted the very strong urge to roll his eyes, and instead said (most definitely not raising his voice), "Think about it! Being leased off to some total stranger who wants god knows what from you—or worse, god knows exactly what. Like I don't do enough for the company already? They've got to strip me of the few moments of peace I ever have? The few moments of free time I'm allowed? They really—"
—expect me to pretend to want this guy?
Tim squeezed Daniel's shoulder but said nothing. He was rarely speechless, and he respected Daniel enough—slave or no—that maybe he really was listening to what Daniel had to say.
"You're luckier than most, you know," Tim finally said, but it sounded pretty flat to Daniel.
"I know." Daniel nodded. He really was lucky. "I just . . . . What if he—?"
"NewWorld screened the potential lessees very carefully. Especially those who expressed an interest in their most valuable property, of which you most assuredly are. They wouldn't send you to someone who'd mistreat you."
Tim's hand was still on Daniel's shoulder; Daniel shrugged it off and turned to face the man. "You mean they wouldn't send me to someone who would mark me in a way that would show on camera," he said, slowly and purposefully blunt. Gratuitous cruelty wasn't the norm, Daniel knew, but nor was it by any means forbidden. And he'd had plenty of personal experience with the bad shit in his years before InfoGlobe. He also knew damn well that slaves like him—the ones cursed with good looks, the successful ones who'd accomplished more than most freemen—were magnets for bad shit.
Tim grasped Daniel's bare forearms just above the slave bracelets—thin platinum cables bound with rectangular gold links, slim and stunning and masculine without a single ring for binding—and squeezed gently. Daniel looked down at Tim's hands, at his own, at the bracelets so different from the functional iron bands he'd worn twenty-five years ago. Tim was right; NewWorld Media had been good to him. They'd rescued him and his mother from cruel oblivion and given him the world. If this was what they wanted from him in return, well . . . then what kind of ungrateful, spoiled little slat would he be to balk? He deserved the beating he had coming tomorrow.
"Okay?" Tim asked, hands still on his arms, studying him closely. "Good?"
Daniel nodded. "Promise you'll pick me up in the morning?"
Tim laughed, grabbed Daniel's coat, and tossed it to him. "Ten on the dot. Don't make the driver come get you."
Bonus Material / Media Coverage
- Character Interview: Reena Jacob interviews Carl Whitman
- Character Interview: Jenre at Desert Island Keepers interviews Daniel Halstrom
- Character Interview: Amara at Amara's Place interviews Daniel Halstrom
- Character Interview: Amara at Amara's Place interviews Jane, Dave, Tim, and Mr. Foster
- Classified Ads from the Anchored World--"Slaves for Sale!"--at the Coffee Time Romance blog
- A Day In the Life of a Newsroom Slave
- Training a Companion: Curriculum Review at Marie Sexton's
- Deleted Scene: Read the whole deleted prologue at Brita Addams's blog
- Guest Blog: One World Over - The Barely-AU and the Birth of Anchored
- Guest Blog: The Wonder of Worldbuilding
- Inside the Anchored World: Mock Newspaper Ads by L.C. Chase - These are a brilliant must-see!
- Interview: Author Angela White interviews me on Anchored, writing, and life
- Interview: C. Margery Kemp interviews me on Anchored and the writing life
- Interview: Aleksandr Voinov interviews me on Anchored, the future of the Belonging series, and walking on the dark side in writing
- Video Book Trailer by Kari Gregg
