Chapter 4
CHAPTER 4
LANIE
L anie gripped the hem of her dress so tightly her knuckles ached. The beginner’s submissive workshop was already in full swing, soft murmurs of conversation filling the lounge at Club Southside. She had taken a seat in the back, trying to shrink into the shadows, hoping no one would notice how out of place she felt.
The other attendees—most of them women, a few men—sat in a semi-circle around Master Dane, the club’s resident trainer for new submissives. He was tall and broad, his dark hair streaked with silver, his voice commanding yet warm as he spoke about the foundations of submission.
“This isn’t about giving up control,” Dane said, his gaze sweeping over the group. “It’s about learning to trust. To communicate. To know your limits and have them respected. For some, it’s about finding a partner who can nurture or guide them. Submission, like dominance, doesn’t come in one size fits all. It’s up to you and your partner to communicate your needs and work together to see them fulfilled.”
Lanie exhaled slowly. She had no idea why she’d let Tessa talk her into this.
“You work at the club , ” her friend had said. “You should at least understand the dynamic. It doesn’t mean you have to take part. Just… see how it feels.”
That was the problem. Lanie already knew how submission felt.
Submission had been a trap. It had been Vinnie whispering in her ear, telling her what to wear, how to act, how to be the perfect little plaything—not for her pleasure, but for his.
She swallowed hard. That wasn’t what this was.
This was safe. This was different.
So why did she feel like she didn’t belong?
Her pulse kicked up when Master Dane’s voice dropped to a lower timbre. “For tonight’s sensory exercise, we have volunteer Doms who will help guide you. You are always in control. If something doesn’t feel right, you say red and it stops immediately. Understood?”
A soft murmur of ‘yes, Sirs’ rippled through the group. Lanie managed a nod.
Dane turned, scanning the room. “Lanie.”
She froze.
Every muscle in her body went tight as Dane motioned her forward. Shit. No. She wasn’t ready.
But then she saw him.
Archer, standing just beyond the semi-circle, arms folded, watching her. The moment their eyes met, something inside her steadied. He wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t urging her forward. He was simply there, his presence like a solid, unshakable anchor.
She inhaled through her nose, exhaled through her mouth, and forced herself to stand.
The group parted slightly as she made her way toward Dane. He gestured toward Archer. “You’ll be working with Master Archer tonight.”
Her breath caught. She looked up at Archer, half expecting him to say no, not her, but he didn’t.
Instead, he simply held out his hand. “Come here, little one.”
Lanie hesitated for only a second before she placed her hand in his.
His fingers closed around hers—firm, warm, reassuring—and the second they touched, the tight coil of nerves in her stomach loosened just a little.
Archer led her to a quiet corner, away from the rest of the group. The club’s lighting was already low, but here, the shadows felt softer, more intimate.
“You good?” His voice was low, steady.
She nodded. “Yeah. Just… nervous.”
“That’s normal.” He squeezed her fingers before letting go. “I’ll talk you through everything before we start. You stop me at any point, understand?”
“Yes.”
His eyes flickered with something unreadable. “Yes, what?”
Her stomach flipped. “Yes, Sir.”
Archer’s expression didn’t change, but she swore the air between them shifted.
“Good girl.”
Heat curled low in her belly at those two simple words, her pulse skipping.
What the hell was wrong with her? She wasn’t here to play. She wasn’t here to feel anything. And yet, standing in front of this man, with his deep voice and steady hands and calm authority, she suddenly wanted to know what it would feel like to let go—just once.
Archer pulled a soft black blindfold from his back pocket, rolling the material between his fingers before looking at her. “Trust exercise.”
Her stomach tightened.
He must have seen it in her expression, because his voice softened. “We’ll stop the second you want to.”
Lanie exhaled shakily and nodded.
“Turn around.”
She did. He stepped in close—not touching her, but close enough that she could feel the heat of his body behind her.
Her breathing went shallow.
The silk of the blindfold slid over her eyes, cool against her skin.
Her world went dark.
Archer’s voice was the only thing left.
“I’m going to use a few different touches,” he murmured. “Nothing intense. Just sensation. Focus on what you feel. Not what you expect.”
Lanie’s hands balled into fists. Then something soft drifted across her shoulder. She shivered, her breath hitching.
A feather. She recognized the sensation instantly, light and teasing as it trailed down the length of her arm. She didn’t hate it.
Archer didn’t rush. He traced slow, deliberate paths along her skin, the faintest brush of touch that sent tiny ripples of awareness through her.
Her heartbeat kicked up for a different reason now.
“Doing okay?”
His voice was too close, too deep. It slid along her spine, pooling low in her belly.
Lanie swallowed hard. “Y-yeah.”
The feather drifted over her collarbone, down her wrist.
Then it was gone.
Something warmer took its place—his fingers.
The contrast made her whole body lock up.
He barely touched her, the lightest graze over the inside of her wrist, but it lingered.
A test. A question. A challenge.
She exhaled shakily, realizing she was gripping the sides of her dress too tight again.
Archer’s fingers disappeared.
A second later, he was undoing the blindfold, sliding it away.
Light flooded her vision, but her world was still off balance.
He was so close.
She could see everything—the sharp cut of his jaw, the controlled calm in his eyes, the way his fingers were curled like he wanted to touch her again but wouldn’t unless she asked.
Lanie swallowed, her throat dry. “That was…”
Archer tilted his head. “Too much?”
She licked her lips. “No.”
That word came too quickly. His gaze dropped to her mouth, and her breath stalled. Something flickered in his expression. Not amusement. Not arrogance. Something darker. Something dangerous. For one wild second, she thought he was going to kiss her.
But then he stepped back.
“Workshop’s wrapping up,” he murmured. “You did good, little one.”
Then he walked away, leaving her standing there—still feeling his touch even though he was already gone.
Lanie sat on the leather couch in one of the quieter corners of the lounge, her fingers curled around the warm mug of tea Archer had handed her. She wasn’t sure how they’d ended up here. One minute, she’d been walking out of the beginner’s submissive workshop, mind still tangled in the lingering awareness of Archer’s touch. The next, he’d been at her side, guiding her to this quiet, dimly lit space.
“You should eat something,” Archer said, his deep voice pulling her back.
She looked up at him. He was standing near the couch, arms crossed, his sharp gaze assessing her. His presence had the same effect on her as always—steady, unyielding, commanding.
“I’m not hungry,” she murmured, lifting the mug to her lips. The warmth seeped into her fingers, grounding her.
“You need more than tea,” Archer said, voice calm but firm.
She lowered the cup, exhaling. “I’ll grab something later.”
His jaw tightened slightly, but he didn’t push. Instead, he took the chair across from her, leaning forward slightly, his forearms resting on his knees. The way he watched her made it impossible to hide.
“You handled yourself well tonight,” he said after a long pause. “You were nervous, but you didn’t let it stop you.”
Lanie let out a quiet breath. “I almost didn’t go.”
“Why did you?”
She hesitated. The simple answer was because Tessa had pushed her into it. But that wasn’t really true.
“Because I wanted to see if it was different,” she admitted, tracing a finger along the rim of her mug. “If it could be something other than…”
She trailed off, unsure how to put it into words.
Archer didn’t rush her.
“…other than control,” she finished, throat tightening. “Not mine. Someone else’s.”
She expected him to offer meaningless reassurance, to tell her that of course it was different, that she had nothing to fear. But he didn’t. He simply nodded, waiting for her to say more.
Lanie stared down at the dark liquid in her mug. “For a long time, I thought trust meant giving someone everything. That if you loved someone, you weren’t supposed to have limits. That’s what he taught me.”
Archer’s entire body went still.
Lanie forced herself to meet his gaze. “I know that’s not how it’s supposed to be. I know that now. But knowing and believing aren’t always the same thing.”
Archer’s eyes flashed—something dark and lethal—but he didn’t direct it at her.
“When did you leave him?” he asked, his voice quiet but edged in steel.
“A year ago.” She swallowed hard. “I ran.”
His gaze sharpened. “Is he looking for you?”
Her stomach twisted. She had told no one about the text she’d gotten the other night. She’d convinced herself it was a fluke, that if she ignored it, he’d go away. But she knew Vinnie never went away.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “He let me go. Or at least, that’s what I thought.” She exhaled slowly. “But lately…”
Archer leaned forward, his presence so solid, so steady that she had to resist the urge to sink into it.
“Talk to me, Lanie.”
She hesitated. And then, before she could stop herself, she pulled her phone from her pocket and handed it to him.
Archer took it without a word, his gaze flicking over the screen. The message from the unknown number was still there.
Miss me, baby?
A slow, controlled breath left Archer’s lips. He didn’t react, but she could feel the change in him.
“Did you reply?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Good.” He handed the phone back to her. “You’re no longer going to have to deal with this.”
She gripped the phone tightly. “I don’t want to be someone’s problem.”
Archer’s eyes locked onto hers, dark and unreadable. “You’re not a problem. You’re mine to protect.”
Her breath hitched.
Mine.
He said it like it was a fact. Like there was no arguing, no second-guessing. And for the first time in a very long time, Lanie felt something close to safe.
But safety was an illusion, and she wondered if Vinnie might be closer than she thought.