Page 53 of Kiss of Smoke

He gripped my arm and pointed to the white carpet. “There’s blood.” He pulled the blanket away from Chloe’s body, and we both froze.

More blood smeared her thighs.

Chapter Fifteen

ALEC

The human hospital smelled of antiseptic, dying flowers, and stale coffee. Pots of the stuff sat on a warmer in the corner of the waiting room where Lachlan and I had been stuck since the nurses rushed Chloe away. On the flat screen television mounted on the wall, a news presenter in heavy makeup talked about a dip in the stock market.

“How much longer do you think it’ll be?” I asked Lachlan, who had finally stopped pacing and now sat in one of the green plastic chairs, looking out of place and slightly menacing.

I knew better, though. His glower didn’t stem from anger. He felt responsible for Chloe, and he was beating himself up inside for what happened.

I leaned forward to catch his attention. “Lachlan.”

His golden eyes snapped to me. “If I knew that, do you think I’d be sitting on my arse in this cursed place?”

I closed my mouth and sat back, my own plastic chair creaking.

As swiftly as it came, his temper drained away. He rubbed a hand over his jaw, mumbling, “I’m sorry. I just wish they’d tell us something.”

“Excuse me, gentlemen?” A woman in light blue scrubs stood in the doorway.

Lachlan and I shot to our feet so quickly her eyebrows lifted.

“Yes?” I said.

“Which one of you is here for Chloe Drexel?”

“I am,” Lachlan and I said together.

Her gaze darted between us, and a nonplussed expression crossed her face. “We only allow one visitor per patient. It’s hospital policy.”

Oh hell no. No way was I staying put while Lachlan saw Chloe. I went to the doorway, tapping my power as I went.

The nurse’s brown eyes went wide, and her head tipped back as I drew close.

Voice rolling with power, I smiled. “It’s all right”—I glanced at the name badge clipped to her shirt—“Helen. You can change the policy just this once.”

The glow of my skin reflected in her pupils as she nodded. “Yes,” she said in a dreamy voice. “You’re both allowed back.”

“Tapadh leat.” Thank you.

“You’re Scottish.”

I winked. “Born and raised.”

“This way.”

Lachlan muttered beside me as we followed her down a white, sterile-looking hall. “Laying it on a bit thick, don’t you think?”

“It worked, didn’t it?” I muttered back.

Helen led us through a series of halls to a tall counter buzzing with activity. Another nurse—older and oozing authority—stood next to it, tapping away at some kind of futuristic computer mounted to a pole on wheels. She looked up at our approach and frowned. “Just one visitor per patient.”

“They’re here for Miss Drexel,” Helen said, a vague smile on her face.

“Helen. You know our policy.”

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