Last Hope (Carnal Powers Series #1)

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It should have been harder to get past the front desk and triage nurse in the emergency department, but all Adrian had to do was flash his private investigator credentials, say the word "shape-shifter," and they waved him back. No one wanted to deal with turning him away, and no one particularly cared if the shifter in question didn't want him there.

The nurses' station was another story. A stone-faced woman sat behind the desk, her pink scrubs clashing with her bright red hair, and all but told him to get lost.

"I just need to ask her a couple of questions," he ventured again, favoring her with a dazzling smile. "It'll only take a few minutes."

"Sorry, honey," she drawled, not looking the slightest bit apologetic. "Friends and family only." She turned her attention back to her computer terminal.

He considered trying to convince her that he was a friend, but it would be obvious he'd lied the minute he came face-to-face with Lars. Tolerance was the best he could muster for Lars Nilsson, and that was when the man was behaving himself. Which is just about never.

He was saved from having to think up a new plan of approach by the appearance of a second nurse. She looked like she'd recently showered, but he could still smell the unmistakable scent of another shape-shifter. Coyote. It had to be Lars's girlfriend, then. She was the only female coyote in town who was likely to be tearing up attackers.

Armed with that knowledge, he smiled at the new nurse and flashed his ID again. "I'm looking for Lars Nilsson. Is"--Claire? Corinne? I think Claire--"Claire ... is she all right?"

Let me back. Come on. Adrian held hisbreath as she stared up at him with eyes that were an odd shade of brown. Light, like watered-down whiskey. Finally, she blinked and glanced down at his license, then tucked a wet strand of hair behind her ear. "Who are you?"

He shoved his ID back into his pocket and offered his hand. "Adrian Torres. I know Mr. Nilsson."

"Kiara Avery." She shook his hand briefly and grabbed a metal clipboard off the desk. "Claire will be fine, Mr. Torres. She probably won't be admitted, so she should be released in a few hours. I'd try calling him then. Have a good night." She turned and started down the hallway.

"Wait." He cast a glance at the nurse at the desk and took his chances, darting past her after Kiara. "I'm a shape-shifter, Ms. Avery. There are things I might be able to pick up on now that I won't in a few hours. I just need a few minutes." By now, the chances were good that Lars could hear him. How he'd react was the question.

She didn't stop walking, just glanced over her shoulder at him. "Is that even real?" she asked, nodding to his pocket. "Or are you a reporter?"

He tried not to growl his frustration. "It's plenty real, sweetheart. If you were older than twenty, you might even remember me. I used to be a cop."

"I'm almost thirty." She stopped and faced him. "I'll go ask Claire if she's up to talking to you. But don't try to weasel your way back there by lying to me. I don't like it when people lie to me."

Adrian was used to people showing him at least a marginal level of respect, but the nurse staring him down seemed unaware of the fact that he could have lifted her with one hand and snapped her in half just as easily. Or she didn't care.

Or she knows better. He stopped a few feet away and finally listened to what his instincts were telling him. It was faint, but definitely there--the tickle of magic at the edge of his senses. "Psychic," he said flatly, narrowing his eyes at her. "Fine. The truth is Claire may not have a clue who I am. But I still need to talk to her."

She remained silent for a moment, then tilted her head. "I'll see what I can do. Wait here." She disappeared around the corner.

Adrian leaned against the wall, took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly. Hospitals always set his temper on edge, but he was used to controlling it. Today was the first time he'd ever snapped this fast, and he was more than ready to blame it on the pretty little nurse.

The pretty little psychic. It was just what he didn't need--an attractive woman fucking up his instincts in the middle of a crisis situation.

She reappeared, and he fought a groan as the wolf inside him studied her with renewed interest. She just jerked her head toward the hallway behind her. "Come on."

"Thanks." He pushed off the wall and firmly told himself not to stare at her ass as he swung around the corner and followed her down the hallway. Let's just hope she's not a mind reader.

The first person he encountered when he stepped into the room was Lars. The rest of the room faded as he faced the shorter man and fought the urge to curl his hands into fists. "Nilsson."

The coyote looked just as tense, though he grinned lazily. "Torres."

Every instinct in his body screamed for him to stare Lars down, to force him to retreat. When Kiara stepped past him, he had to stop himself from grabbing her and dragging her back until he stood between her and the enemy.

Not the enemy, damn it. He took another deep breath and returned Lars's lazy smile. "We gonna play nice in front of the ladies?"

"I'm not the interloper here," Lars said flatly. "You're the one who--" His words cut off as a small hand slid over his arm.

"It's all right." Kiara had sidled up to Lars, and she kept her hand on him as he looked down at her. "Mr. Torres is here to help."

Adrian fought the urge to growl, but it died in a rush of concern when a low snarl came from the bed. Before anyone else could move, Adrian grabbed Kiara's arm and dragged her away from Lars. "Okay, now, let's keep our hands off the injured shape-shifter's boyfriend."

"I-I'm sorry." She looked at Claire. "I was only trying to keep him calm."

"It's not a problem." Lars turned his head toward the bed for just a moment before backing up a step and dropping his hand to cover Claire's. "Why don't you just do whatever it is you came here to do and then get lost, Torres?"

But Adrian was already tugging Kiara toward the door. "Take a few minutes and comfort Claire. I'll be right back."

He didn't wait for Lars to argue, just stepped into the hallway and pulled the door shut before glancing down at Kiara. "Are you all right?"

She returned his stare, looking puzzled. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Because you almost got eaten by a jealous, territorial coyote? He shook his head, leaned against the door and shoved his hands in his pockets. "For future reference, sweetheart, you might want to watch the casual touching around shape-shifters. It's never very casual to us."

Kiara bristled and glanced around, then lowered her voice to a husky whisper. "I'm not an idiot. Touching isn't casual for me, either, but it is the best way for me to calm someone. I can't help that any more than you can help the whole ... concerned thing you have going on right now."

Not a mind reader, but an empath. Great. Rein in the lust, man. Adrian cleared his throat and tried to keep his mind on business and not how hot her voice was when she whispered like that. "You've got to be careful with dominant female shape-shifters. The weaker they feel, the more violent they are."

For a moment, her eyes blazed with hot sparks, and he was sure she was going to give him hell. Then she blinked and the expression was gone, replaced by a vaguely polite smile. "Of course. If you don't need anything else...?"

He had to reach out to grab her arm again. "I do. You're an empath, right?"

She sighed and ran her free hand through her drying hair. It had lightened until it was almost the same shade as her eyes. "Yeah, I am."

"Do you have to touch people to project a calming atmosphere, or does it just work better that way?"

Kiara took a moment to answer. "I can do it without touching anyone."

"Good. Because having me in the room with his injured girlfriend isn't going to make Lars happy, even if Claire doesn't mind." Adrian gave her a cocky, confident smile. "It'd help if you could keep everyone calm."

She hesitated long enough that he thought she might refuse, but she finally nodded once. "Okay. Five minutes."

"Five minutes." He narrowed his eyes, studying her strange expression. "Is there anything I need to know?"

Kiara pulled away from his grasp and rubbed her hands over her bare upper arms. "Five minutes is all you have because that's as long as I can keep projecting like that."

"No, I meant--" He stopped, unsure what he meant. "Are you okay?"

She kept her eyes averted. "Look, let's just get this done. I'll worry about me."

He wanted to argue, but there wasn't time. "Okay."

Adrian pushed the door open again. Lars had moved to sit on the bed with Claire curled in his lap, her head resting on his shoulder. Though he'd heard rumors the Franklin girl had hooked up with Lars, seeing them together was jarring. Lars was the epitome of bad news, and he looked it. Claire, on the other hand, looked sweet and guileless.

Of course, that was how they looked. There was nothing jarring about their power. They fit cleanly together, their energy filling the room as they both turned to look at him. The back of Adrian's neck prickled as he stepped just inside the door and stopped, not willing to venture closer. Not when faced with such an impenetrable, united front.

He needed them both to stay calm, so he directed his first question to Lars instead of Claire. "Have the police been here to take a statement yet?"

Lars nodded shortly. "They were right behind the ambulance." His eyes flickered to Kiara. "You don't need the empath."

"Kiara should stay." Claire sounded tired, but her tone brooked no argument. "She can probably describe the blond cop better than I can, and he's trouble."

"Blond cop?" Adrian slid his eyes to Kiara as he pulled a small notebook out of his back pocket. "Do you know his name?"

"Douglas." She leaned against the wall, her shoulders tense. "I don't know his first name."

"He likes to hassle supernaturals." Lars scowled. "Beat on the guys. Rub up against the pretty little girls."

He should have known. He scrawled "Brandon Douglas" on the pad of paper and underlined it. "I'm familiar with him. Did he harass you at all, Claire?"

She didn't answer at first. When Adrian finally looked up at her, she was watching Kiara through narrowed eyes. "He looked like he wanted to, but he was too scared of me. He tried to get one of the younger guys to pin me down and cuff me, but the other cop wouldn't do it. Said there were too many witnesses."

"Probably Rawlings," Kiara offered. "He's a rookie. Sometimes he hangs out with the paramedic I rode with tonight, Sanchez."

Adrian wrote that down as well. "Did you smell anything on the attacker that might be useful? Anything odd?"

"Incense," Claire answered immediately. "He smelled like church. Like Catholic Mass. And it wasn't faint either. It was as strong as it would be on a priest."

"Huh." Adrian frowned, his pen hovering over the paper. In spite of the religious overtones of the attack, most of the officials he'd talked with seemed convinced the group was playing up the so-called moral crusade for shock value. No one had indicated any links to an actual religious organization. "Good, Claire. That's good."

Claire's gaze jerked to his face, and her voice turned deadly serious. "I think someone should keep an eye on Kiara. She shot down Douglas in front of the other cops. Made him look even weaker. He was furious."

The atmosphere in the room went from peaceful to strained in a heartbeat. "I can take care of myself. It's not the first time Officer Douglas and I have had a difference of opinion."

Adrian's pen scratched across the paper so hard he ripped it. "We'll talk about that later," he managed to say, trying to keep his temper under control. He'd never been fond of Douglas, but the sudden urge to rip out the man's throat was surprising. And unacceptable. "Lars, did you pick up anything on the scene?"

"Just the incense, like Claire said." He smoothed one hand over her hair, almost petting her. "Cheap aftershave. Motor oil. Blood. That's all."

Kiara cleared her throat. "I may be able to get my hands on the guy's personal effects. You can't take them, but..."

"I understand. That'd be good, thanks." Adrian stuck the notebook back into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He retrieved two business cards and held them out to Lars, choosing his words carefully. "I'm going to find these guys. And I'm going to stop them. If you want to help..."

Claire reached out and plucked the cards from his hand. "I'll call you."

"I need to go." Kiara had gone pale, and she grasped the door handle with a shaking hand. "I have to get out--"

"Okay." Adrian helped her pull the door open, resting one hand at the small of her back as he glanced back over his shoulder. "I'll be in touch."

Lars just waved a hand at him, his attention already back on Claire.

Kiara stumbled, her shoes squeaking on the tile floor as she hit the wall and rested her forehead against it, her breathing heavy. Alarmed, Adrian pulled the door shut and crossed the hallway to lean against the wall next to her. "What is it? Are you all right?"

She dragged in a sharp breath, shaking her head as she slid away from him. "Don't," she rasped. "Don't ... touch me right now."

He blinked at her before shifting his gaze to the closed door. "What is it? Something going on in there? Is there going to be trouble?"

"No." She rolled away from the wall and pressed her back into his chest, arching against him with a soft noise. Her head fell to one side, hair sliding away, baring the curve of her neck in the perfect gesture of submission, of readiness. "No trouble."

Oh, shit. Her ass rubbed his cock through his jeans, and he hardened painfully. One hand fell to her hip before he could stop it, and he clutched at her as she rocked back against him. "Kiara." He meant it as a warning, but it sounded more like a promise. His rational mind screamed that her actions were fueled by her empathy, but he still dropped his nose to nuzzle against her hair.

She clutched at his hand and sighed. "This is what you want." Her voice was low, another of those soft whispers. "Like this. I tried to block it out, but it's getting tangled up. You want, I want ... It's all a blur."

It took an unholy act of willpower to pull away from her, and he wasn't completely sure he had enough left to stay away from her. "I don't think you want me to take you against the wall in the hospital, Kiara." As soon as the words left him, the image formed in his head of hefting her up, pinning her to the wall, and listening to her beg for him in that sexy little whisper as he fucked her. Jesus Christ, that is not helping.

He stumbled back a few more steps before he could fit thought to action and get a hand inside her underwear. He panted like he'd run a few miles, and he could smell her arousal. He clenched his hands into fists and clung to the only thing that wasn't the least bit arousing--the fact that Lars sat on the other side of that door, listening to everything they said and did.

Kiara closed her eyes and shoved her hands in her pockets, rocking back and forth against the wall. When she finally looked at him, her eyes were guarded. "I'm sorry. I-I'd better go see about those personal effects before someone from the police department or family comes to claim them."

Adrian forced himself to nod. He didn't plan on saying anything, but the words came out anyway. "When do you get off of work?"

"I'm already off." She tilted her head to the door. "I was staying for Claire."

Don't do it. Don't fucking do it. "Do you want to go find some dinner?"

"It's a little late for dinner." Kiara licked the corner of her mouth, her pink tongue barely visible before it was gone again. "We could go to my apartment and have a drink."

"After I take a look at the guy's personal effects." Maybe it would give him time to cool off enough to get back to her place with his clothes still on.

"Okay." She glanced around. "Come back in five minutes. They'll be in the suture room at the end of the hall. I have some things to take care of."

"Okay." He closed his eyes, waiting until the quiet sound of her footsteps had faded completely. His body still protested, demanding he chase her down, screaming for him to drag her body under his and drive them both crazy.

Get your head in the game, Torres. He shoved down desire with ruthless efficiency and took a deep breath, wishing her scent had faded along with her footsteps. Then he opened his eyes and squared his shoulders, determined to get the job done.