Archer Box Set 1-14 Novels & Stories

Every experience I've had with being a man came from her. "We've been used to it for years. We didn't think there was anything strange about it." As he spoke, he deliberately paused, took off his watch, and pressed it into my hand with a considerate expression. "This watch was a birthday gift from Vanessa. I'll give it to you as an apology. Don't be angry with her." "Why would you give that to him?" Vanessa snatched the watch back and looked at me with unconcealed disgust. "You didn't do anything wrong. I spent $30 million at auction to get this for you. Why should he have it? Does he deserve it?"

“Katrina, I’ve always wanted what’s best for you. If Archer is what makes you happy, then I’ll let you go. Just promise me one thing—be happy.” Tears pricked my eyes as I hugged him tightly. “Thank you, Jordan. For everything.” By the time I returned to Archer’s mansion, the sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the sprawling estate. My footsteps slowed as I noticed something unusual. Roses—hundreds of them—scattered along the floor, leading up the grand staircase. “Archer?” I called out, my heart pounding. At the top of the stairs, Archer stood in a sharp suit, holding a small velvet box in his hand. Behind him, I saw faces I hadn’t expected—friends, members of the pack, and then—

Hunter interrupts as he turns me towards him. "Addison Archer," he kneels before me, his hands trembling as he pulls a small box from a pocket deep in his coat. "You are the most beautiful, brave, and magical woman I have ever known. Every day I'm near you feels like a gift, and I know that I don't deserve you." "Hunter," I try to stop him, but he shakes his head. "I..."

It felt like the entire pack was watching now. Alpha Archer moved first. He didn't speak immediately, instead, he circled us, twelve girls kneeling in the dirt, as though measuring us for something unseen. His boots crunched softly over the packed earth. Every step of his draws brings the scent of leather, iron, and blood closer. The bandages on his arms were a stark contrast to his dark tunic, but the power coming off him was unshaken, heavy as a storm front. He stopped behind me. I didn't turn my head, but I felt him there, a shadow at my back, the weight of his presence pressing down like a hand between my shoulder blades. My heart beat faster.

I was left there, standing in the middle of the plaza, recalling tidbits of information about the previous timeline. Archer is a hunter who is talented and is quick on his feet whenever someone is in trouble. His power is one of a kind. Though it may seem strong, it has one flaw—he could not take numerous tiny foes all at the same time. This makes Belzeebub the only demon that Archer could not face and he is also the one who killed Archer in the past.

I took another breath, this time deeper, trying to clear my head. "Why are you here, Mortis?" "A package arrived for you. I signed off on it. Thought you should see it for yourself." He handed me a small, black box. Tastefully wrapped. The type of package that was more invitation than delivery. I arched a brow. "From who?" "Archer Graves." My mouth twitched. Archer. Now that was an interesting man. A devil in polished suits. He ran Graves Industries with the same kind of ruthless grace I respected.

He looked at it. Roman: “Working, Why.” Archer typed back: “No reason. Carry on.” And then he put the phone down again and pressed both hands flat against his sternum because his heart was doing something he felt was disproportionate to a two-word reply. Archer sent it and put the phone down and then picked it up again to check the timestamp on when Roman had last been active and then put it down again and then reorganized his bookshelf for fifteen minutes because he needed to do something with his hands.

They thought they’d won something. And then Archer smiled. It was slight, just a flicker of movement at the corners of his mouth, but it was enough. The tension shifted again like he was about to play some sort of game. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small, perfectly wrapped box—a pristine silver bow on top. “Lila,” he said, voice rich and even, the way a diplomat might smooth over an international crisis. “Apologies for my wife’s… enthusiasm.” A calculated pause. A gentle incline of his head. Just enough condescension to make Lila feel superior but not enough to be obvious. Then he extended the gift, holding it between two hands like an offering.

Archer greeted politely, his tone calm and respectful, even as he set the gift bags neatly on the coffee table. Inside the bags: a massage device, nutritional supplements, a silk scarf, a men’s wristwatch, and the latest model of a high-end laptop—clearly meant for James. Archer had thought carefully about each one. Nothing too extravagant—he didn’t want to come off as flashy or arrogant. A massage chair had seemed too much for a first visit, but a handheld massager? Practical, thoughtful. Just right.

Livia’s Point of View Agitated and thrilled. That is how I discern. I hoisted my porcelain hand and knocked on the door three times. My heart was pounding hard and my fingers were shaking. Regardless, the door creaked, and a dazzling man showed up wearing only a towel wrapped around his waist as drops of water fell on his hair down to his mesomorphic shoulders and went to his hard stomach. I bit my lip seeing Archer standing in front. His stern eyes and stoic face greeted me whilst holding the box of the necklace he asked me to drop by.