Worth the Price

By Angelique Voisen

Lex Page is heart sick and prefers a life of solitude. He agrees to blind dates but is relieved when he’s stood up. Meeting an enigmatic stranger changes his life forever.

Lex’s instincts tells him Frank Wolfe is a predator in human skin, but he has trouble staying away. When he stumbles on Frank in the middle of a kill, Lex is given a choice—die or become Frank’s captive.

Contract killer Frank knows the rules of the people he works for—leave no witnesses alive, except he can’t bring himself to eliminate Lex. Killing comes easy to Frank, love is complicated business. When his enemies close in, Frank has to make a choice—let Lex go or drag Lex down to the darkness with him.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Evernight Publishing
• Release date: Nov 13, 2017
• ISBN: 9781773394800

Angelique Voisen

Angelique Voisen writes LGBTQ erotic romances and likes experimenting with different sub-genres. Her stories are often set in exotic settings and may include blades, fangs, kinky magic systems, and happily-ever-afters. Visit Angelique at www.angelvoisen.blogspot.com

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Published by EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ® at Smashwords

www.evernightpublishing.com

Copyright© 2017 Angelique Voisen

ISBN: 978-1-77339-480-0

Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

Editor: JC Chute

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

WORTH THE PRICE

Angelique Voisen

Copyright © 2017

Chapter One

Blue or green?

Lex Page chewed on his bottom lip in deep thought, while looking longingly at his usual choice of dress. A restaurant like Le Pierre might mistake him for a homeless guy in faded blue jeans and a worn-out gray hoodie, and turn him out. Thinking about that particular scenario made him nervous. All the commotion, and the horrified faces of the diners turned towards him—that was a sure ticket to another panic attack.

Breathe, he reminded himself, plucking his orange inhaler from the left pocket of his trousers.

Taking a slow breath, he simultaneously squeezed the inhaler and held his breath. Albuterol filled his lungs. Heaven.

The fabric of his trousers itched. So did the starchy white shirt. Both items felt odd against his skin. Lex never really liked dressing up. If it weren’t for Dom, he wouldn’t be caught dead in a suit, either. First rule of us dating, Dom would say. Dress up, or don’t get out of the house at all.

The prospect of seeing Dom trumped everything else, even his severe social anxiety. And sex, of course.

Focus. He glanced back at the bowties lying on the dresser. He arranged a dozen of them in a straight line, but he considered the blue and green. Orange, red, and yellow seemed too much.

People would stare. They always did. Dom and Dr. Michaels often reminded Lex it was all in his mind, but he never believed them. If someone lingered long enough, they’d catch glimpses of the real Lex, and all the cracks in the internal armor. Cracks he’d spent his entire life hiding.

Sweat coated his palms. More slid down his spine, back, and underarms. He should have put on the shirt and coat last. If Lex didn’t hurry, he’d lose his reservation. Blue was safe, right?

Lex didn’t want to be seen at all. He relied on being invisible, loved the fact no one took a second glance at him in the street. He wore the suit and bowties for Dom. No one else, because Dom said they added some color into his life.

Now the hard part. Lex put away the other bowties in the carved and ornate wooden box Dom gave him for their first anniversary, and studied the three different shades of blue bowties. He arranged the clip-on, a premade, and the self-tie once again in a row.

The clip-on was the darkest, nearly black in color. Lex brushed his thumb over the fabric. Dom always said a true bowtie enthusiast could always tell. Besides, only children wore a clip-on accessory. The same went for the pre-made.

Sighing, Lex plucked the self-tie and wound it around his neck. He stared at his reflection in the mirror. An everyday guy in his mid-twenties with a neat haircut and brown hair and eyes stared back at him. The suit stood out though. So did the bowtie. Why Dom preferred these infernal things to a simple tie, Lex didn’t know.

Reciting Dom’s instructions in his head, he made the neat little bow. Five attempts later, he nodded his satisfaction. At the third time, tears threatened to fall from the corner of his eyes, but he held them back. Frustration welled inside him. Why the fuck was this so hard?

Real men didn’t cry. His father always said so, even though the bastard was long dead.

At the very least, the sweat had dried. Lex gave his appearance another cursory glance, wincing at the end product. Whatever. Every man in the restaurant would be wearing thousand-dollar suits and formal coats. No one would give him and his two-hundred-dollar outfit another glance.

On his way out of the bedroom, something nudged its furry head against his leg and let out a bark. Dom’s Welsh Corgi, Patches—no, his now, looked up at him earnestly. A normal dog would have wagged its tail, but real Welsh Corgis didn’t have them, apparently. A strange dog for a man who never quite fit in the world—that sounded just about right.

I can’t play, boy. I have a date.

Lex waved at the suit and bowtie. Patches didn’t look impressed. Lex took a short trip to the kitchen, hearing the stubby paws of the short, sausage-shaped fur ball trotting behind him. Opening a can of dog food and placing it in Patches’s bowl, he lowered it for Patches. The Corgi sniffed at his fingers, before digging in.

Lex eyed the mutt critically. You’re getting a little fat ’round the edges, bud.

Patches let out what suspiciously sounded like a snort. Lex rubbed the Corgi’s ears, wondering if he should cancel this entire thing. Once Patches got what he wanted, the fiend ignored him completely. Lex knew he was purposely delaying.

He wished he could take the same amount of time picking his footwear. Too bad he owned one pair of leather shoes and four pairs of sneakers.

He slipped his feet in, feeling uncomfortable, recalling all the times he bitched and whined to Dom about not being able to run in these. Dom’s response would always be the same. In what kind of situation would Lex need to run? Lex’s exercise was limited to occasionally climbing the stairs to his apartment unit on the second floor when the elevator broke down. Walking to work would be another excuse, except Lex worked remotely from home.

Lex patted his pockets before heading out. Wallet, keys, cell phone, and inhaler: check. No more delays. Tonight, Lex would strap on a pair. He promised Dr. Michaels.

Do, not try, Lex murmured under his breath.

Right, talking to himself. Another habit he needed to break out of. With his car still at the impoundment lot, Lex walked. The old Toyota his father gave him for high school graduation would remain there. Lex had no interest