Demon Fire (The Angel Fire Book 3)

by Marie Johnston

  She’d reassured him that she was okay. The airbag hadn’t hit her gut but had kept her from slamming hard against the seat belt. Even so, the peanut was so small, it had to be well protected. She repeated all that to Boone every twenty minutes. Other than a couple of shallow burns on her arms, she was fine.

  She was on slice three before she noticed him nursing his second slice. Was he saving it for her? “I’m not going to eat the whole thing.”

  “I’m glad you have an appetite,” he said.

  All she wanted was a comfy bed and a shower, but that wasn’t going to happen. She’d take avoiding the cops and being free another day. And maybe a call from Harlowe.

  She munched on another bite. There hadn’t been any other strange vehicles on the same street as the safe house, had there? There hadn’t been another possessed human around ready to behead a dazed Harlowe, right?

  Her stomach cramped and she put her slice down.

  “There’s more than enough for both of us,” he said. “We missed lunch, so eat.”

  It wasn’t even ten p.m. The more food she ate, the harder it was to keep her eyes open. “It’s not that.”

  He chewed and waited for her to continue. That was what she liked about Boone. He didn’t push her until she needed more than a nudge. He didn’t coddle, but he took care of her. He didn’t ask her to pretend to be anything she wasn’t. She craved that, and he should know why the accident bothered her so much.

  “Harlowe’s my sister.” The tension in her belly uncoiled. Another secret was out. She hadn’t told the person who should hear it the most, but Boone was a neutral party. He hadn’t been lied to his whole life, not like Harlowe. He wouldn’t understand that Sierra was the reason Harlowe hadn’t grown up with a mother.

  Boone put his food down. “She doesn’t know.”

  “She thinks her mother was killed in the Mist by a demon.”

  “Harlowe’s older?” Sierra nodded and understanding dawned in his eyes. “Her mother had to hide to have you?”

  “My father—Ransom—found her in the Mist, giving birth. She wasn’t able to tell him much before she died, but she begged him not to tell her mate and daughter what had happened, not to tell them that she’d died having a baby.” Sierra took a drink of her soda. The bubbles helped center her. Knowing what had happened and saying it out loud were nothing alike. Someday, she’d love to tell the complete truth. “He and one of his warriors were fighting two archmasters and a sylph. Harlowe’s mother was enough of a distraction, a shock, that Father’s partner was killed. The demon used her own angel fire on her.”

  “And he told everyone that your mother died fighting the demon?”

  She nodded, grateful Boone could figure everything out quickly. “Harlowe’s mother died a hero and everyone assumed the other warrior had died by her own hand. Her own mate had walked into the fire months earlier, so everyone thought that’s what had happened. There were no remains to say differently.”

  “Walked into the fire?”

  “The fountain of angel fire in the middle of our realm. It’s our voluntary out from a mostly immortal life.” She picked up her pizza. The will to eat wasn’t there but her stomach demanded more food.

  “Harlowe might be worried that the phone is compromised.”

  Typical Boone. He wasn’t going to dwell on the backstory. He processed the information and moved on.

  Had his wife understood how he was? His work was his life. It was how he expressed himself. He worked hard because he cared hard. From what he’d said, Sierra guessed his wife had interpreted it as him not caring enough for her. A lack of communication between two different personalities with horrific results.

  “It’s why I haven’t sent a message that we’re okay,” she replied. Thinking too hard about Boone and how love had failed wasn’t going to help her.

  “We’ll figure it out in the morning.”

  She nodded and started a fourth slice. At this rate, she was going to dig into Boone’s half—and drink his water too. But it was better than the perma-queasy state she’d been in for the last couple of months. “Nighttime in Sin City isn’t the time to outsmart demons.”

  “Too many humans causing trouble all on their own.”

  They shared a quick smile and a spark kindled in her belly. They’d crashed and fled, and they still wore the street’s grime, but the way his eyes crinkled in the corners? He had never looked hotter. His blue jeans and plain black T-shirt showed far too many muscles than were good for her to see.

  Was it the hormones? With her newly rediscovered appetite, her sex drive could be firing up too. Boone had been giving her the warm fuzzies since she’d woken up after her fall and looked into his dark eyes. But this feeling crept beyond warm and headed into edgy territory.

  Instead of running from it, she let it sink in. Enjoyed how the heat curled like tiny tendrils through her body until it settled into a steady thrum between her thighs. Boone didn’t have to know she was turned on. He didn’t have to know that the last time she’d been with someone, it’d been motivated by disgust and anger. Helplessness and desolation. She’d wanted justice, she’d wanted revenge, knowing she was owed neither of those things.

  Her attraction to Boone was the opposite. He was a good man. He made her feel worthwhile. He helped her without expecting anything in return. For a fallen angel who deserved all the shit rolling her way, Boone was a treasure. He was hers, if only for a time.

  Soon, she’d do what she had to. She’d find a way to free him from her mess and he’d live a life worthy of his selfless soul. She’d just have to do it before he realized she wasn’t worth helping.

  A slight shifting on the bed roused Boone to consciousness. The patterned material of the curtains allowed some light to filter in. Sierra had curled tight into herself, her arms hugged into her chest and her knees pulled up.

  He sat up on an elbow. “Are you in pain?”

  “Sorry I woke you.”

  “It’s not like either of us can sleep decently on this mattress.” The sidewalk might be softer, and warm from the sun. “Is something hurting?”

  “No, I’m just cold.”

  When they’d entered the room, he’d taken one look at the comforter and hadn’t wanted it to touch Sierra’s satiny skin. That had left the sheet and a blanket as thin as the sheets. Except for the night she’d slept against him, he’d been sleeping over the blankets in the safe house. But it wasn’t enough to keep her warm.

  “Here.” He rolled off the bed and crawled in behind her. Spooning her, he opened his arms as she wiggled closer. He held back a groan. Her ass was doing all the wiggling. He couldn’t sport an erection while they were on the run. She was pregnant. And a fallen angel.

  Could there be any more issues between them?

  A soft sigh left her as soon as she was ensconced in the cocoon of his body. “I always hated how short I was compared to other warriors, but it’s coming in handy right now. You’re a furnace.”

  “Glad I could help.” Her breathing was even, but she wasn’t asleep. “Why did you become a warrior? Can you pick what you do?”

  “Somewhat. Some jobs you have to be accepted for. Warrior’s one of them. But my birth left the realm with two fewer warriors. I felt it was my obligation.”

  She blamed herself. It weighed down every word. “What would you have done if you’d had any other choice?”

  “I never had another choice.” She shifted and her ass nudged him again. His abs tightened and he tried to think of anything other than the beautiful woman in his arms.

  “Why not?”

  “I had to do something where I could contribute the most.”

  “Your birth is not your fault.”

  “But here I am. Harlowe’s mom is gone. Marta, my father’s teammate, is gone. My father might go back to being a warrior. And I still fucked it all up.”

  She’d made up her mind. Had her father instilled this special form of stubbornness? Had he encouraged her to make up for how o
thers acted? Words wouldn’t get through to her. It would be like telling him that he wasn’t responsible for his son’s death. Like fighting off a broadsword with a blade of grass.

  So he held her. He tightened his embrace, pretending for at least tonight that nothing could get to her. Pretending that he was a normal guy and she was a normal girl and clinging to each other was all they needed.

  A hard, unmistakable bulge was pinned between her ass and Boone’s stomach. She didn’t bother pretending she was still asleep. He would know. Instead, she continued her game of make-believe. The one where she fooled herself into thinking that Boone could be into a pregnant, homeless fallen angel.

  The first part of the night had been fitful. The room was chilly and the blankets were lacking. But since she’d been tucked into Boone, she couldn’t remember a time she’d been more comfortable.

  “You’re awake.” His morning voice was always gruffer. Harsher. Today was like being in the cabin. Just them. The rest of the world wasn’t invited in.

  “I don’t want to move. You’re a good blanket.”

  His chuckle reverberated through her body. She clenched her thighs together. Her hormones had picked a bad time to wake up.

  “We should plan what we’re going to do today.” His hand rested on her side. She was afraid to twitch. Would he move it?

  “Yeah.”

  Neither of them moved. His hard length didn’t diminish and her desire didn’t dwindle. Was he feeling it too or was it his body’s normal reaction to waking up? Would he be erect for any female he held in his arms?

  Would she get hot and bothered if she was entwined in anyone else’s arms? Definitely not. Before, sex had been an itch that needed to be scratched. She liked how it felt if her partner knew what he was doing. Jameson had known what he was doing, but the self-loathing that had filled her before, during, and after had reduced those experiences to nothing more than animal rutting.

  His hand splayed on her side. “What are you thinking?”

  “A lot of things I shouldn’t,” she answered honestly.

  His hand brushed down to her belly. “Sierra . . . we shouldn’t.”

  She rolled in his embrace. “I know.” Aside from all the obvious stuff of what she was, her mouth tasted like she’d brushed her teeth with garlic, but Boone would be in the same position. “I don’t want to stop.”

  He kicked his hips forward at the same time as she lifted her leg over his. Their lips met, tentative at first and then deepening. Boone didn’t rush. He held her to him for several heartbeats, then his thumb brushed her bare skin once, twice. The rest of his hand followed and his rough palm stroked her back.

  She groaned and arched into his touch.

  It was the encouragement he seemed to need. Her shirt was lifted as he rolled her onto her back. He kissed a slow sensual path down her neck to her exposed breasts. She didn’t care how ugly the bra was. The way he touched her made her feel like she was wearing sexy French lingerie.

  She tunneled her hands into his hair, enjoying the silky strands flowing through her fingers. His hot mouth on her skin made her forget her existence was in danger, that she was on the run, and that they were holed up in a shitty motel room that smelled of stale smoke.

  He took his time at each breast, popping a nipple free, sucking the peak into his mouth and cherishing it with his tongue.

  She arched into him. “Boone.” His name was a plea.

  “I thought it was my imagination,” he said as he kissed his way down her belly, shoving the bedding out of the way. “I thought I couldn’t want you as bad as I did. I thought that once I got to touch you, I’d realize it was all in my head.”

  He reached her waistband and kept going, rolling her leggings and underwear down as he went. And because he was ever considerate, he kept them off the floor and dropped them on the nightstand by the TV they’d learned didn’t work the night before. His dark gaze anchored her in place.

  Her shirt was bunched above her exposed breasts. Was he going to stop? Was it all in his head? Had seeing her in the dusty, dim light of the room trashed his libido?

  “Boone?”

  “I just want to look at you. I’ve been trying not to for months.”

  A smile played over her lips. Fast hookups and self-hate sex didn’t compare to making out with Boone. “You want this too? Despite everything.”

  He blew a breath out. “I want you more because of everything.” He pulled his T-shirt over his head, then took his time unbuckling his pants. He hesitated before he pushed them down. “But, Sierra. I haven’t been with anyone for years.”

  And he wasn’t sure about breaking his abstinence with her?

  “I . . . might not last long.”

  Oh.

  She sat up, propping herself on her hands behind her. “Boone, this is already the most special time I’ve had with another person. I don’t care if you last half a minute or half an hour.”

  She must’ve said the right thing. He shoved his pants down. His erection sprang free and she automatically widened her legs.

  Once he’d put his clothes next to hers, he crawled over her and she eased to her back. He didn’t shove her knees wider, or attack her breasts. He caught her lips again, taking his sweet time.

  She melted, wrapping her legs around his strong hips. Again, he didn’t thrust in. His cock stroked her wet core as she undulated her hips, and still he kissed her, slow, unhurried. When he moved the arm that he’d held himself off her with, she thought he’d finally enter her. But he cupped her face.

  She whimpered and his chuckle reverberated through her. Just when she’d thought she couldn’t get needier.

  Finally, he adjusted his hips until his broad head nudged her entrance. Her fingers curled at the exquisite pressure, her nails digging into his shoulders. He pushed in as leisurely as he was doing everything else, driving her out of her ever-loving mind.

  She didn’t deserve this in all the best ways. A man who took care of her. A man who saw to her health, her safety, her pleasure, her state of mind.

  How could she . . . How could she ever be worthy of a guy like Boone?

  She was selfish, doing this. Greedy.

  But as he seated himself inside, she’d never felt more complete. This man filled her like never before. She forced her nails out of him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, enjoying how close they were. Then he moved, and the pleasure grew with each stroke.

  “Boone,” she moaned. Each slick stroke took her higher than any other peak she’d had before.

  He braced himself on his knees and one arm, lifting her leg with the other. “God, Sierra. I can’t—”

  He stroked his hand up her thigh and didn’t stop until he brushed a fingertip against her clit.

  She cried out, her body bucking against him. All he had to do was lay his hand at her center and she worked the rest as he thrust in and out.

  His body was shaking. He was holding back until she climaxed. She circled her hips as he slammed in. That was all she needed. Stars exploded behind her eyes as she called his name. Her body went tight, but weightless. She soared on a wave of ecstasy, feeling only pleasure. No pain. No worries. Nothing but what Boone wanted her to feel.

  He roared, curling around her but not crushing her. Heat filled her as he released and she held him. She came down from the great heights he’d pushed her to.

  That was the closest to flying she’d ever have again.

  He couldn’t regret what had happened. He’d broken years of solitude because of Sierra, and he’d ended years of abstinence with her too. Logically, it was all wrong, but it’d never felt more right.

  They’d spent the morning pleasuring each other. He’d given the shower a good scrub before they’d both gotten in and made love some more.

  It was checkout time. They had to go. Dressed in the same clothing they’d worn the previous day, they counted their money. A couple hundred dollars. It’d get them another cheap room and something to eat, along with transport
ation.

  But they had to get to a new hotel and checked in without being detected by any demons. They’d have her likeness by now. His too, but they thought he was a warrior. Between the accident and Andy, they’d have to be careful.

  He peered out the window. “I think there might be a thrift store a few blocks away.”

  “The walk might be more exciting than we want in this part of town.”

  “It’s not like we have anything to steal.”

  She peeked outside from under his arm. “True. I’m ready. But can you hang on to these?” She handed the phone and the ultrasound photo to him.

  “Are you sure?”

  Her gaze was on the picture. “I don’t have pockets.”

  She didn’t want the picture ruined. Seeing the baby on the ultrasound monitor had rocked her and she hadn’t spoken much about it since. But protecting the picture said a lot. “I’ll have to fold it to get it into my wallet.”

  “It’s okay. Thank you.”

  “You’ll get more during the bigger ultrasound.”

  Her eyes flickered and her smile was fleeting. “Hold on.” She darted into the bathroom. The water ran for a few seconds and then she was back.

  Whoa. Her hair was slicked back like she was an assassin after a target or going out clubbing. She’d tied her shirt at her hip. The soft curves of her body were on full display. A slight round to her lower abdomen only added to her sex appeal. The canvas shoes lent legitimacy to her look, like she wasn’t trying too hard, this was her norm.

  She’d pulled off a disguise without changing outfits and dying her hair. Her eyes were a bright blue, but without the flurry of her chin-length hair, her edgy new look was nothing like before.

  He patted his torso like he was feeling for a hidden costume. “Think it’ll work for me?”