Any Price
Gail Faulkner
Baby girl had run out of time to get to know him. Being under him while he explained the nature of their relationship was her only option.
Lore didn’t mind trading deadly intentions with an enemy, but letting go of Kenna was not going to happen. The bastard hunting her had a short future that was about to end badly.
Kenna needed him. This wasn’t lust or even obsession. No, those words paled against the blue flame of his hold on her. But modern women are not overwhelmingly eager to spread for the big man’s pleasure. It was time to light a candle for the demise of her modern woman.
Ellora’s Cave Publishing
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Any Price
ISBN 9781419920288
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Any Price Copyright © 2012 Gail Faulkner
Edited by Mary Moran
Cover design by Syneca
Electronic book Publication February 2012
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Any Price
Gail Faulkner
Author’s Note
Time is the barrier protecting humans from secrets we should fear. The deadly mysteries buried so deeply they become myths are the very ones we most wish to unveil.
Chapter One
3:00 a.m., Wednesday morning
Covia/Kersonov, Eastern Europe
Men do not go into heat. They do not feel a specific woman entering their territory as if there were some perimeter-to-sensory range. But there she was, drawing him into the night. Her feminine whisper captivated the core of his soul. He had not been aware it was possible to recognize a woman like this. To know she was his.
Three days ago, slamming up shields had been his first response to the connection snapping into place between him and the intoxicating female presence. Her instant fear and confusion on the other side of those shields had done nothing to soothe him, at first. It had taken hours for him to realize how completely innocent she was of her power.
Lore Francis Jozef VIII, King of Covia, Guardian of Kersonov, now moved through moonlight in barefoot silence, his restless prowl taking him to the windows. He wanted nothing more than to scale the wall and hunt. Hunt the lost little witch in his city. Running a hand through his hair, stretching out senses, he reached for her. Unerringly found her and once again sent his protection, his strength, his wordless vow that he guarded what was his.
Currently, fear beat at her. Her debilitating alarm worried him but he had few options. Telepathic contact was their only link, and he sure as hell was not giving it up. Tempering his need to demand she physically come to him, as he’d been forced to do for the last three days, he once again pushed the promise of protection through their connection. She’d never answered, but that didn’t mean she didn’t hear him.
Almost no shields and clearly a civilian’s attitude about her freedoms, she was mentally naked and physically just as unprotected. The magnitude of her gift could not remain a secret, and a truth he didn’t want her to learn was that those who would instantly understand what she was were already monsters.
She hadn’t run though. Right now he knew she was awake.
“Baby girl, what are you doing up?” he asked softly. Using an endearment was far too natural and he hadn’t even tried to edit it out. It would have been a deception, as if whatever was between them wasn’t personal. Their interaction was all kinds of personal and he wanted her right there with him from the start.
“I could be old, you know.” The clear tone of her answer was laced with fear, but mostly exhaustion colored it.
“Our connection is far too unique for me to be unaware of something like that,” Lore assured her gently.
“Now I get it,” she sighed. “You’re turned-on by terrifying women with this telepathic business. You’re a predator!”
“Whoa there, baby. Have I ever threatened you? Have I done one thing that wasn’t about easing your fear?”
“How would I know? I don’t know what you are or why I hear you in my head. Am I crazy?” she demanded in frustration, only to quickly retract the question. “No, don’t answer that. If I’m crazy, I’m going to tell myself that I’m not. If I’m not crazy, and you are a real person talking in my head, I will be crazy as soon as I believe that. I don’t know what to do.”
Her voice trailed off in exhausted panic. She was so afraid, so tired. “Telepathic communication is extremely rare and considered a gift. You are afraid because it’s new to you. Unusual for such a strong gift to unfold this abruptly in an adult, but it doesn’t make you crazy.”
“Right,” her tone faded. “So I’m gifted and you’re not a predator? Or I’m gifted and you are a predator?”
“You are gifted and I am a predator, but not to you, baby.” That confession was easy. Honesty was required, asking it from her meant extending the same with no hint of deception.
She was withdrawing, too tired to continue, he could feel it. Her acceptance of his predator statement bothered him. It should have bothered her. At least she had spoken. It was a start.
Christ! He had to get her in soon. She was connected to him, but the nature of his hold on her was an unknown. The link was freaking important and inexplicable. One thing he was sure of, she had become his.
She obviously did not know his identity. Regardless of his station in the world, her connection to him was intimate, and he didn’t want his public life to scare her before she knew him. Protecting her had become a priority. Over the last three days his bone-deep conviction that she belonged to him had intensified. A unique response, but so deeply rooted in his survival instincts that he didn’t bother fighting it. Only a fool dismissed survival instincts, the folk who usually became dead fools.
A breeze picked up, swirling the mountain mist, and he felt her, the essence of a woman. Overlying the sweet spring softness of her was the exhaustion that had finally broken down her fear.
“Sleep, baby,” he whispered in her mind. “We will sort everything out tomorrow. No more fear.”
* * * * *
10:00 a.m., Wednesday
The king didn’t have to be at the presentation of patents. It was a tradition of tournament participants submitting qualifications and nothing more than a show for the elaborate medieval festival. He was here for his woman. He had to find her, even if it meant revealing his identity.
Each contestant, suited in full armor, approached on a magnificent charger. The huge hor
ses stood in statuesque perfection while heralds declared each contestant worthy. Lore acknowledged the presentation by affixing the royal seal on the application and the contestant moved on in parade step.
Straight off the pages of movie-enhanced history, the scene was all things medieval romantic for the throngs spending their cash in this tiny country. Creating the impression that a member of King Arthur’s court lurked around each aged stone corner was what the event had been aiming for.
A moment before it happened, he felt her. His body tightened. Her hesitant voice invaded his mind.
“Umm, hello again. I have to tell you something.”
Lore’s eyes burned into the crowd, but he couldn’t find anyone unusual. Everything in him responded to her, requiring iron control as the warrior part of him insisted he locate her. She was here, the instinct to capture screamed through his body. Years of training kept him in his seat, and the fact that charging out of it might scare her into hiding again.
Apparently he’d been wrong thinking she didn’t know his identity. That was interesting information.
“What’s your name?” he questioned softly. First thing he needed was little witch’s name. She had chosen to address him directly and he was not about to let her slip away.
“Kenna MacKelsey,” she responded to the question. ”But that’s not important. I overheard people planning to plant a bomb. Maybe two, I’m not sure. They used two names for it, ‘nuke’ and ‘dirty bomb’. I hope you know what those are.”
“I’m aware of the concepts. How do you know this?” Lore asked, his eyes raking the throng in quick quarters between the required focus on the next contestant. Bomb news kicked his warrior into high gear, strategic information and action planning taking over. Not drawing attention to her or his search for her was imperative. Bomb of any sort was bad. Experience said nuke wasn’t fucking likely though. The festival provided a high-yield death toll without going to that expense. Why would anyone do it?
“Ah, I don’t have proof. How would I prove I heard people’s thoughts? You have to listen to me.” Her urgent tone intensified. “As I understand it, a dirty bomb will affect the world, not just this country. I didn’t know who else to tell.”
“I am asking for more information, your talent is not in question. Dirty bomb is a local mess. Nuke is globally serious. Continue,” Lore responded. So close. His little witch was within reach. Now he had damn valid reasons for taking her into protective custody.
“They will deliver the case to what they think of as tunnels under something important. I couldn’t understand the word they used. Another to the fairgrounds. They are placing the things this morning. The two people I heard did not use names but one said ‘Boc had called’. That’s the only name I heard.”
“What else? Where did you hear this? Have you seen these people?” Lore shot questions at her. He did recognize the name she’d heard and it ramped up the situation’s cluster-fuck potential in the worst way.
Grabbing a piece of paper, Lore wrote a series of brief directions. The instructions were on top of the latest contestant credentials in an effort to shield the action from the ever-present press. Thrusting the papers to Yuri, commander of the royal guard, Lore returned his attention to the event.
“I never saw them. They were in room 206 of the Princess Hotel last night. That’s all I know. Thank you for listening.”
“Wait,” Lore responded sharply. “You are leaving?” Over his fuckin’ dead body.
“Yes. Bomb talk equals Kenna goes home. Shouldn’t you be whispering this to someone? Did I waste my time telling you?”
Lore risked a look directly into the crowd. “You were correct to come to me.”
“Do you believe me? Are you going to at least look into it?” Stress rose sharply in her voice.
“Yes,” he confirmed. “Where are you going?”
“Home. What does it matter? I’ve done all I can.”
Baby girl had just run out of time to get to know him. They would figure out what their relationship was, but it would have to be done within the protection of his comfort zone. Possessive was an emotion he’d never attached to a woman before, no matter how intimate his knowledge of her. That was then. Everything was different now and he was good with it. Way past good.
“It matters a great deal. The U.S. government uses telepaths in many capacities,” he stated.
“The government has telepaths?”
Her surprise told Lore what he’d suspected. She really was alone.
“Yes. They are always looking for strong talents. You’re off the charts,” he informed her.
“Ah, thank you. Nice chatting with you. I have to go.”
“Do you understand what I’m saying about what happens to you when you get home?” he questioned.
“You didn’t say anything except the government uses telepaths. It’s not like I can deny we exist. I didn’t know there was a club or something.”
The frown on her face gave her away. She stood two rows deep, staring straight at him. How had he thought no one in this crowd stood out? She was the type of beautiful that made men stupid. Damn it!
His eyes locked with hers, and he continued. “Those telepaths work for an agency no one has ever heard of. You will not be invited to join the U.S. program. They will take you. Baby girl, you cannot hide the power of your gift. Being drafted by the U.S. program would be the best possible future if you choose to leave my care. I will do everything in my power to ensure it because the other people who would take you and use it are beyond your worst nightmare.”
“No one knows about me now. You do. Logically, I need to go,” she said softly, new fear entering her mind with the last half of his statement. Lore wanted to curse a fucking blue streak as he watched her suddenly realize a whole new world of peril was opening before her.
He had to look at another contestant, had to appear as if he were paying attention to the public show. His eyes would paint a target on her if he didn’t. “Yes, I know about you. The monarch of a sovereign country who can protect you,” he pressed hard. “If you leave, the U.S. program is the only way I can protect you. Kenna, I will not allow the other option.”
“I’m not much of a telepath. At least I wasn’t before landing in your country. Suddenly I hear everything and I don’t like it. This chatting business is new. If I left, it might go away,” she reasoned.
“Miss MacKelsey, it is Miss, correct?” Lore inquired in grim command to ensure she answered.
“Yes,” her response was slightly confused.
“Your situation has changed. However it happened, you have become an exceptionally valuable asset. Do you know what I did before becoming king?”
“I read the thing in Time Magazine,” she acknowledged.
Lore suppressed a grimace over her reference to the article. He’d expected the reporter to focus on his military record but had to admit tying that with his personal life had been brilliant. A largely classified combat record and unfounded speculation about a dominant sexual lifestyle made for sensational reading. At least it was the Time article she mentioned. Since the publication of that article, there had been countless other accounts with sharply declining degrees of truth in favor of conjecture about the newest royal bachelor.
“Good,” he continued. “We don’t have to go over my qualifications. I know the name Boc. If he’s in charge, primary target will be U.S. soil. We are practice. If you leave, I will let the proper people know about you. You are their best hope of avoiding the same attack there.”
Kenna sucked in a sharp breath. She was no longer aware of standing in the crowd as she stared at the harshly handsome monarch and knew he would do exactly what he said. Period clothing should have tamed the impact of this man. Lace and silk simply emphasized the big-cat quality of every lithe movement, the savage beauty of his features. He was a warrior who sat a throne.
And he had the look of a hero. His eyes were already dark, but lush lashes added perpetual shadows, hiding any e
motion they might show. Chiseled cheek bones and an aristocratic nose above a chin so firm she’d bet he could use it as a club. The only softness on his face were mobile lips and above his forehead where a thick pelt of deep chocolate hair invited her fingers. At six foot four, he just looked like he ate kittens for breakfast and bunnies for lunch.
“Are you threatening me?”
“I’m telling you what your options are,” he countered in her mind. Lore paused as Yuri leaned down to whisper in his ear. He quickly wrote instructions on another sheet of paper and handed it to Yuri.
Kenna backed a step as the king held her in his grasp by will alone. She could feel it and wasn’t sure what that meant. At least he believed her. He seemed to be directing people, and she had to assume they were taking whatever action this sort of thing required. It was her first time trying to save the world.
“All right,” she sent, unsure what she meant by that. Was she agreeing with him or just acknowledging how unaware she was of how things worked?
“Good,” he approved. “We will start at the hotel and see if we can track them from there. You will go with the protection detail.”
Kenna backed up another step and bumped into an immovable object. Glancing behind her, she found a large man smiling down at her. She hadn’t thought it was possible to go another step into terror and still breathe.
“Kenna,” Lore instantly invaded her mind with the warmth he’d been pushing across their connection for the last three days. “Thomas is there to protect you, as are the other three men. You must get out of the crowd, baby. We have no way of knowing if there is anyone else present who can detect this type of connection. Please relax, you’re safe.”
It took Lore’s assurance for Kenna to back down the terror and feel the man standing behind her. Reading people didn’t always mean listening to thoughts. It was mostly knowledge of their base-level emotional intentions. This fellow was naturally cheerful and there wasn’t a hint of threat directed at her. He possessed sandy-blond hair and smiling hazel eyes, but the close-cut look about him made her immediately think military.
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