Chapter 11
CHAPTER 11
LANIE
L anie woke to the feeling of warmth—strong, possessive arms wrapped around her, a steady heart beating beneath her cheek.
For a moment, she didn’t move. She stayed curled against Archer’s chest, letting herself absorb the rare, fleeting peace that came with being held by a man who made her feel safe . That was the problem, though. Safety was an illusion. And last night had proven just how fragile that illusion was.
Her eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the dim light filtering through the curtains. Shadows still draped Archer’s bedroom, but something felt… off . It took her a second to realize what it was.
The house was too quiet.
She shifted carefully, trying not to wake Archer as she slipped from the bed. He made a low, sleepy sound in protest, his grip tightening instinctively around her waist, but she wiggled free. The moment her bare feet hit the hardwood floor, the warmth disappeared, replaced by a creeping chill of unease.
Moving toward the window, she pushed back the curtain, and her stomach dropped.
Armed men were stationed outside.
They weren’t just patrolling the perimeter; they were positioned strategically, standing alert with eyes scanning the street. She could make out at least three in the backyard alone. And those were just the ones she could see.
Lanie exhaled sharply and ran back to the room he’d given her to grab her phone—except it wasn’t on the nightstand where she’d left it.
"What the hell?" she muttered under her breath.
Before she could even start looking for it, the low, gravelly voice behind her sent shivers down her spine.
"You’re not going to like the answer to that question, little one."
Lanie whirled around to find Archer standing behind her in the doorway, watching her with an unreadable expression. His eyes were sharp despite the fact that he’d just woken up, his body all lean muscle and restrained power as he walked toward her, bending over to toss her over his shoulder. When she struggled, he swatted her ass.
“You don’t leave our bedroom without telling me. Do it again and you’ll owe me five. I rather enjoyed waking up to you last night… and you seemed to enjoy it as well.”
Unceremoniously, he dumped her back on the bed and stretched lazily. Her heart hammered. Why did she find him so wickedly arousing? She fought down the feeling.
"Where’s my phone, Archer?"
A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He was way too pleased with himself.
“Confiscated."
Lanie’s hands fisted at her sides. "You can’t just confiscate my phone?"
“Do you have any idea how adorable you are when you think you can tell me what to do? You can’t, by the way. And I’d dial back the attitude if I were you.”
He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, standing in one fluid motion. He didn’t even seem to care that he was wearing only a pair of loose sweatpants that hung dangerously low on his hips. He stalked toward her, unhurried but with an unmistakable air of authority.
"Before you decide to throw a tantrum, you should know that I also installed full security measures. The house is locked down. Cerberus is stationed outside. The cameras have been upgraded. Your movements will be monitored. And you, Lanie...” he reached out, sliding a finger beneath her chin, tilting her face up to meet his gaze, "…are not leaving this house without me."
Lanie’s pulse spiked. Not from fear, not from anger, but from the sheer power of him. Archer Vaughn was a force of nature she had no chance of withstanding, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t fight him, anyway.
"You had no right," she snapped.
"I have every right," he corrected, his voice dropping to that dark, dangerous tone that made her belly flip and arousal surge through her system. She had enjoyed his waking her up to make love to her throughout the night. "You’re mine to protect, and I will protect you—whether or not you like it."
Frustration clawed at her chest. "I’m not some prisoner, Archer. You can’t just lock me up like I’m...”
"Like you’re a target?" he cut in smoothly. "Because that’s exactly what you are."
Lanie gritted her teeth. "You don’t get to make that decision for me."
Archer’s eyes darkened. "I do when your life is at risk."
The silence between them hummed with electricity, the energy in the room shifting, intensifying. She should be angry. Hell, she was angry. But there was something about the way Archer took control—so effortlessly, so absolutely—that made her body betray her. She felt the pull of it deep in her core, the primal instinct to challenge him just to see how he’d push back.
She inhaled sharply, forcing herself to focus. "You can’t do this alone."
Archer’s jaw tensed. "Lanie...”
"No, listen to me," she interrupted. "Vinnie trusts me. He still sees me as his. That means he’ll let me close. If I play the part—if I make him believe that I’m scared, that I’m running back to him—he’ll let me in. And once I’m inside, I can get you the information you need."
The moment the words left her mouth, she knew she’d pushed too far.
Archer went completely still. Not just physically—but in that lethal, dangerous way that sent a shiver of awareness down her spine.
His voice, when he finally spoke, was almost too calm. "You think I’m letting you anywhere near that bastard?"
Lanie swallowed hard. "If it means taking him down, then yes."
Archer exhaled slowly, like a man desperately trying to keep his temper in check. "You do not get to decide that."
"It’s my life!"
"And it’s mine to protect." His voice snapped like a whip. "You don’t get to play bait, Lanie. You don’t get to walk into a den of predators and expect to come out unscathed."
She refused to back down. "But I can help! If I...”
"No . " Archer was in her space before she could blink, backing her up against the wall, his hands gripping her hips, pinning her against the wall. His body caged hers in, all heat and raw dominance. "You are not going near Vinnie Molina again, do you understand me?"
Lanie trembled. Not from fear—but from something far more dangerous. "You don’t own me."
Archer let out a low, dark chuckle. "The hell I don’t."
Her breath hitched as his fingers slid down her arms, gripping her wrists, pressing them against the wall on either side of her head. His mouth was so close—so damn close she could feel the heat of his breath against her lips.
"You’re going to be the death of me," he murmured, his voice laced with something rough and possessive. "You challenge me. And God help me, I love it, little one." He dipped his head, his lips just barely grazing the corner of her jaw. "But don’t mistake my patience for permission."
Lanie’s pulse thundered.
"You will not put yourself in danger," he continued, his grip tightening ever so slightly. "You will not throw yourself at Molina like some sacrificial lamb. You will listen to me. You will obey me, because I will not lose you. Are we clear ? "
Her breath stuttered, her resolve fracturing under the sheer force of him. She wanted to fight him on this—wanted to push back just to see how far he’d go—but deep down, she knew.
Archer Vaughn was immovable.
And God help her, she loved it… she loved him.
After a long, heated pause, she exhaled. "Yes, Sir."
Archer stayed there for a moment longer, letting her submission settle. Then, slowly, he released her wrists, his hands skimming down her sides in a slow, deliberate caress.
"Good girl," he murmured.
Lanie closed her eyes, swallowing hard. She wasn’t sure when this fight had shifted into something else—something dark and electric and dangerously tempting—but there was no denying it.
The battle was far from over.
And in the end, she wasn’t sure who would win.
That evening, Lanie stormed into Club Southside—Archer letting her walk ahead of him—her heels clicking sharply against the sleek floor as she wove through the crowd. Her heart was still racing from the fight with Archer, her skin still tingling from the way he had looked at her, touched her, commanded her.
Damn him.
She wasn’t stupid—she knew Vinnie was a threat. But Archer ordering her around like she was some delicate thing to be coddled? No. She would not let him make decisions for her—well, not all of them anyway.
Lanie stormed into the submissives’ lounge.
“We assigned you a locker,” said Samantha Coltraine. “And Archer had some things delivered for you.”
Lanie stomped her foot. “He makes me crazy,” she seethed.
Samantha laughed. “Welcome to sharing your life with a Dom. They are far more arrogant and stubborn than other men, but they are also far more caring and wonderful.”
Reyna snorted. “Don’t let her kid you, Lanie. There are days she throws things at King. I’d hate to know what your monthly pottery bill is.”
Samantha laughed. “You’ll see, Lanie. Archer loves you and will do anything to keep you safe.”
“Keep that in mind before you go off and do something stupid,” added Reyna.
Lanie opened the door to her locker and went pale. There was nothing in there except for corsets and thongs. Closing the door, she said, “I’ll just wear what I have on.”
“Not if you’re planning to go anywhere other than the lounge. You can wear street wear there, but only fet wear on the dungeon floor.” Reyna held up her hand to stave off Lanie’s objection. “It’s the same for the Doms as it is for the subs.”
“Can someone help me into one of these things?” Lanie asked, holding up a corset.
“Absolutely,” said Samantha.
Reyna nodded. “Samantha is good with laces. She can make you look great while making sure you can breathe.”
Samantha helped her into the corset—a beautiful concoction of raspberry lace over black satin.
“I just don’t understand why one minute, I’m all I Am Woman Hear Me Roar, and the next minute, I’m a puddle of goo at his feet with a spanked ass.”
As Samantha pulled the laces tighter, Alicia Wickersham came around the corner. “I can answer that. Your Archer…”
“He isn’t my Archer.”
All three women looked at each other, then back at her and laughed.
“I don’t know how to tell you this,” Reyna said. “You may not think he’s your Archer, but he is. And you are most definitely his. I’m surprised he hasn’t slapped a collar around your throat.”
Alicia laughed. “Me too.”
“You were going to tell me why I can’t seem to hold my own against him.”
“Because you don’t want to,” explained Alicia.
“And I’ll tell you something else,” said Reyna, “sometimes you submit even when you don’t want to because as much peace as you find in your submission, he finds in his dominance.”
“That’s gorgeous,” said Samantha as she tied off the laces. “Don’t forget your thong.”
Lanie dangled the thing from her finger. “It’s so small I’m not sure anyone would notice if I didn’t have it on.”
The other women laughed. “Trust me, they’d notice.”
Lanie headed up to the lounge, where she could see the dungeon floor. The club was alive tonight, bodies pressed together in intimate dances, the air thick with the scent of expensive cologne, leather, and desire. The deep, sensual bass of the music pulsed beneath her feet, and for the first time in a long time, she felt grounded. She needed this space. She needed control.
What she didn’t need was the overwhelming presence of the man currently stalking toward her.
She felt him before she saw him.
The moment Archer entered the room, the energy shifted. Conversations quieted. Bodies moved instinctively out of his way, and heads turned. Even in a place filled with dominant men, Archer owned the space with nothing more than a glance.
Lanie swallowed, her pulse skipping wildly as she tried to ignore the way her body responded to him. She knew she was playing with fire, but damn it, she would not let him dictate her every move.
She reached the bar, ordering a drink she knew she wouldn’t finish. Tessa raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment, sliding the glass across the counter just as a large, familiar hand wrapped around Lanie’s wrist.
Her breath caught.
"Up. Now," Archer commanded, his voice low, dangerous.
Lanie yanked her arm back, glaring at him. "Excuse me?"
Archer’s jaw ticked, but his voice remained controlled. "You don’t get to run from me, little one."
She scoffed, tossing back a sip of her drink. "You don’t own me, Archer."
The growl that rumbled in his chest sent a shiver down her spine. "Don’t I?"
Before she could fire back, he grabbed her waist, his grip firm but not bruising, and pulled her from the lounge into the shadows of a private alcove. The music drowned out her gasp, the darkened corner shielding them from prying eyes while still leaving them close enough to hear the hum of the surrounding club.
"Let go," she hissed, pushing at his chest.
He didn’t budge.
Archer’s fingers slid into her hair, tugging her head back just enough to expose the delicate line of her throat. His other hand skimmed down her arm, finding her wrist, pinning it to the wall beside her head.
"You want to keep fighting me?" he murmured, his lips a breath away from her ear. "Fine. But don’t think for a second you’re walking out of here without knowing exactly who you belong to."
Lanie gasped, her breath coming faster. "You can’t just...”
His palm closed around her throat.
Not hard. Not hurting. Just a firm, commanding grip that made her body go liquid and her mind short-circuit.
"I can," he murmured, his voice dark silk, laced with possession. "And I will."
Her back pressed against the cool wall, her body caged between Archer and the hard surface. The club pulsed around them, but in this moment, it was just him .
Just them.
“Is everything all right?” asked King.
“Back off,” Archer growled.
“I will just as soon as Lanie says she isn’t being forced or coerced.”
Before things could escalate between the two men, Lanie said, “I’m fine, King. Archer and I are just working through some of the parameters of our dynamic.”
“Yeah, good luck with that working through part.” King chuckled as he walked away.
"You test me," Archer said, seeming a bit more settled, his thumb stroking over the pulse racing at her throat. "You push, you challenge, you run. And yet...” his knee pressed between her thighs, forcing her legs apart, "you always end up back under my hands."
A needy whimper slipped past her lips before she could stop it.
Archer exhaled sharply, his breath warm against her cheek. "That’s it, little one. Stop pretending you don’t want this."
Lanie hated he was right. Hated that she was already shaking, already coming undone just from his voice, his touch, his control.
His grip tightened ever so slightly, just enough to keep her exactly where he wanted her. "I’m going to make you fall apart right here, against this wall, and you will not make a sound. Do you understand me?"
Her thighs clenched together, heat pooling low in her belly. "Archer...”
"Do you understand me?"
God help her, she nodded, and whispered, “Yes, Daddy.”
"Good girl."
His hand slid lower, his fingers brushing the inside of her thigh, teasing the edge of her thong. There wasn’t much between his hand and her sex. The minute he touched her, he’d know just how much she wanted him.
She should stop him. She should push him away. She didn’t.
His fingers found the heat between her legs, and she nearly sobbed .
"Already soaked," Archer murmured approvingly. "You love being owned, don’t you?"
She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood.
He rewarded her silence with a slow, devastating stroke. Her hips jerked, desperate for more.
"Stay still," he warned, his voice edged with something dangerous.
Lanie whimpered, barely holding herself together as his fingers played her body like an instrument. He circled her clit with his forefinger—not actually touching it. He continued to stroke her, and then, just as suddenly as he’d started, he stopped.
She gasped, her body arching into him, seeking more, but Archer only chuckled darkly.
"Not until I say you can, little one," he murmured, kissing the shell of her ear. "I own every inch of you—and not just your body, but your orgasms as well. Come without permission and you’ll find yourself tied to our bed being made to come repeatedly until you are exhausted."
She wanted to scream. Instead, she nodded. He kissed her once, deep and consuming, before finally releasing her throat, her wrist, and stepping back. Lanie nearly collapsed.
Archer caught her chin, tilting her face up, so she had no choice but to meet his gaze. "You will obey me," he said, low and lethal. "Or I will lock you down until this is over . "
A flash of defiance ignited in her chest. "And if I don’t?"
His lips curled. "Try me."
Lanie exhaled shakily. "Fine." She straightened. "I’ll go along with your orders . "
Archer narrowed his eyes. "Just like that?"
She met his gaze, her expression unreadable. "On one condition."
He arched a brow.
"You let me in," she said. "On everything. The plan. The takedown. All of it. I need to be a part of this. I need to be part of your life, not just your fuck toy."
“I’ve got news for you, little one. I will let you in, but you want to be my sweet little fuck toy, don’t you?”
The silence stretched between them; the battle waging behind his dark, stormy gaze.
Finally, she nodded.
"Good girl."
Before she could process her quasi-victory, a voice crackled through his earpiece.
"Archer, it’s Reyna. We’ve got a location on Molina. He’s meeting with his buyers in seventy-two hours. Private estate outside the city . "
Lanie’s stomach turned.
This was it.
Archer’s grip on her waist tightened. "We end this."
Lanie took a shaky breath. "Yes, Sir."
Archer’s eyes darkened at the word, but he didn’t call her on it. Not yet.
Instead, he took her hand, bringing it up to kiss the underside of her wrist. “You’d better go get back in street clothes. I’ll have one of our guys take you home.”
She thought about arguing but thought better of it. He was already feeling a bit cranky. No need to add to that. “Archer?”
“Yes?”
“Would you kiss me?”
“Only since you asked me so sweetly.”
Lanie felt the warmth of his breath as he leaned in, his lips mere inches from hers. Time slowed, her pulse hammering in anticipation. When his mouth finally met hers, the world around them disappeared. His lips were soft yet demanding, coaxing her into surrender with each lingering press. The kiss deepened, his tongue teasing along the seam of her lips before she parted them, welcoming the slow, intoxicating exploration.
A shiver ran down her spine as his hand traced the curve of her waist, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them. Heat pooled low in her belly, her fingers threading through his hair, tugging slightly as he deepened the kiss. The way he moved against her—deliberate, hungry, yet achingly tender—set her entire body alight.
The taste of him, warm and faintly sweet, sent a thrill through her veins. She melted into him, losing herself in the rhythm they created, the slow push and pull, the silent conversation spoken through lips and breath and touch. Every kiss was a promise, every sigh an unspoken need.
When they finally broke apart, her chest rose and fell in sync with his, her lips swollen, her heart racing. He rested his forehead against hers, his thumb brushing over her cheek, as if memorizing the moment. Lanie opened her eyes, meeting his smoldering gaze. He turned her toward the submissives’ lounge and swatted her backside lightly to get her moving.
As she started to go, he grabbed her shoulders, pressing his body with its hard cock up against her. “You’re mine, little one. Never forget that. I’d better not hear you gave the security team a hard time.”
God, she hated how when he said things like that in a certain way; it was as if every ounce of her wanting to be in control went right out the window, and all she wanted was him.