Demon Fire (The Angel Fire Book 3)

by Marie Johnston

  “I’m not your own.” He cut a sharp look toward her and she met it with an equally hard stare. She wasn’t part of their team. And she wasn’t Numen. “I’ve never been a demon and I’m not going to start now. I’m fallen.”

  Bryant stopped. “You make it hard to hate you. Did you really plug that bastard?”

  “Yes.”

  “Harlowe told me he claimed to be your brother.” His voice softened. “Andy controlled all of Jameson’s money.”

  “I don’t need it. He only got it from people he was hurting.”

  “So . . . what will you do?”

  She snuck a peek at Boone, but he was staring at the floor in front of him. “I don’t know yet. The baby is my first concern.”

  “Look.” Bryant cleared his throat and looked at all the members of the team. “I’m sure we all agree that sharing your secret with the senate would be a bloody mess.” The other warriors nodded. She snapped her gaze to his. “And Dionna’s one of the best warriors I’ve met, but she’s pure shite with electronics.”

  “What are you saying?” Her heart pounded. There was no way she could be part of the team. Bryant would be risking his position.

  “I mean that the senate has concluded that we need to keep tabs on fallen, and I don’t have a fucking clue how to do it. You’ve found them all before. You can figure out how to keep monitoring them. That’ll give us a buffer between our own people and the fallen.”

  No one in Numen would want that job. It would lead to complications from the fallen’s family members wanting to know what was going on.

  “You can see demons,” Bryant continued. “You can see us. We’ll figure the rest out later. You need to get some rest, and me and the rest of the team need to talk.”

  “You really aren’t telling the senate about me?”

  “We’ll tell them everything but that. Figure out the Sandeen issue—but first we have to find him. I’ll take the fall for it when it comes out.”

  “But they need you—you’re the director.”

  “There’s another male in the realm who’s done the job before.”

  Director Richter. Her heart twisted. There’d never be a time she didn’t regret what had happened. “How is he?”

  “Not dead.” Bryant jerked his head toward the stairs. “Go on. There’s a room up there with your clothes.”

  She was dismissed. Her circumstances weren’t that different than before she’d walked into that club, but there were no secrets between her and those she cared about. That was the most important thing.

  Boone rose and went up the stairs first. She followed him, going into the same room he did.

  “Boone.” His shoulders tensed. When he turned, she read the determination in his eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

  He took a long breath. “You can’t help what you are, Sierra. You’ve become so much more than the circumstances of your birth.”

  “What is it, then? I can feel the giant chasm between us.”

  “You’re never going to be a fallen that blends in with society.” He closed the distance between them and put his hands on her shoulders. “You’re never going to sit around while others get hurt. Your team? They gave you a job. A mission. It might not be dangerous, but . . .”

  “But what?”

  “I can’t do it again.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “Sierra, he had a gun on you. We made it out alive, but you’ll always have one foot in the warrior world. It’s who you are. I . . . can’t do it again.”

  “You’re scared?”

  He drew back and dropped his hands. She instantly missed his heat. “Fucking terrified.” He took a step back. “I’m going to drive Alma back to Montana. Go back to the cabin. Live my quiet little life.”

  She had a purpose again, and the support of the ones she’d let down. She’d gotten back so much, but he wanted nothing to do with her. “Boone.”

  “I can’t, Sierra.” He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and withdrew the ultrasound photo she’d given him for safekeeping.

  She took it from him, clutching it to her chest, afraid to look at it and break down. She’d gotten so much back only to lose a man who’d become very important to her. A man who seemed to care for her despite what she was, but was leaving anyway.

  She would let him. Because she was afraid too. His pain was evident in every inch of his body. Was that what she would experience if she outlived him?

  “Goodbye.” And he was gone.

  Chapter 19

  The frigid air outside and the snow-covered landscape around them said better than anything that they weren’t in Vegas anymore. Snow snakes skittered across the road, little trails of loose snow bunched together and blowing across the road.

  Boone had rented a car. The warriors had done enough for him, and he’d needed a clean slate. Walking away from Sierra had been brutal. He took solace in knowing she was alive and well. That the warriors would make sure her baby was fine. It was more than he’d gotten last time.

  Alma hummed quietly to herself. He had wondered how he’d know if she was ever possessed again, but he’d figured it out. She hummed. All the time. He probably would have minded normally, but it prevented him getting lost in dark, brooding thoughts.

  They passed a sign that welcomed them to Montana. A few more hours and he’d be home.

  “Do you need to stop?” he asked.

  “No, but you need to turn around.” Aside from humming, she’d been surprisingly quiet. He’d witnessed her disappointed pout when the warriors had told her that she’d be returning home.

  “Why would I do that?”

  “You love her.”

  “Yep.” The miles passed. A few other cars. The wind died down and eventually the snow snakes on the road thinned and disappeared entirely. It was like the world was holding its breath to see if he was going to turn around.

  He wasn’t.

  “It’s been almost eighteen years since Merle died.” It was the first time she’d mentioned her late husband.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Alma sighed, a long-suffering exhale that insinuated he was a fucking idiot. “Do you think that means I regret the forty years before that?”

  “No.”

  “So you think you’re fine living alone?”

  “I wasn’t always alone.” That wasn’t the question Alma had asked.

  “You had another family.”

  Alma had been under the influence of Sandeen when Jagger had rattled off his history. She might remember every detail, or she might’ve been out of it. “Do you remember that conversation?”

  “Of course. My demon let me see and hear everything I wanted to.” She patted his hand. Her skin was warm and soft, her touch gentle. “What happened to you was truly awful.”

  “Yep.” How many more miles to his cabin? He’d have to drop Alma off, check her house over, and make sure no pipes had frozen. The angels had taken care of everything, but had they prepared for a Montana winter?

  “My demon was alone. He’s never had anyone.” She clucked her tongue. “You’ve been blessed twice.”

  His hands tightened on the wheel. He refused to think about what she said.

  It was impossible.

  “Sierra could outlive me.”

  “When Merle got diagnosed with prostate cancer, I wondered how I was going to live without him. He told me I wasn’t allowed to follow him. I had to take care of the house.” She chuckled. “It was finally paid for.” Her smile died. “I’ve lived without him for eighteen years.”

  He understood the point she was making, and the argument was easy. Half-hearted, but easy. “I’m not going to be the seventy-year-old with the twentysomething wife.”

  Alma pressed. “What happens if she doesn’t outlive you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t know how the world works, not mine, not theirs. Sounds like they don’t either. One fallen lives for a while. Other fallen die immediately. Purpose seems to be the o
nly difference. You both have purpose.”

  But he was human. “Sierra would’ve died if I hadn’t found her.” And didn’t that make him want to track down the one called Winger and castrate him for what he’d done. Boone didn’t care if it was Winger’s job or if he’d been under orders.

  “Ah, then people are also important. Isn’t that odd? Their lives are similar to ours in that way. We need people.”

  “You’re going home to an empty house.” Way to stick it to a lonely woman who’d just finished talking about her dear departed husband, jackass.

  “For now. Come spring, I may move south. The dear angels have shown me I’m not too old to make friends.” Determination lined her face.

  Alma was packing up at seventy-eight and moving? Starting a new life? And he’d gone running back to the mountains at the first hint that he could have a new life with someone. A new, largely unknown life, with Sierra.

  He scowled at the windshield. Alma hummed. He glanced at her and stared at her smug expression.

  “What?” He hadn’t meant to snarl the word.

  “Nothing. Just that I got you thinking.”

  You’ve been blessed twice.

  Yeah. That got him thinking.

  It’d been a month. Millie had gotten herself off a few more times and swept into Leo’s room like she didn’t have a care in the world. All the same concerns were there, but the oppressive cloud of hopelessness was just a little lighter.

  He’d been eating. After two days of ignoring his bread with Nutella, he’d eaten everything on his tray. She’d started feeding him prime cuts of meat, succulent fruits, and nothing but homemade bread. And she made sure to keep the bedroom door open when she cooked to let the delicious smells permeate the room. He wouldn’t acknowledge the change in diet, but he’d been cleaning his plate.

  His despondency wasn’t as severe as before, but she opened the curtains every morning, with her robe hanging open, and he always turned away by the time she was done.

  Bryant continued to come visit. He’d told Leo about the developing plans regarding the fallen. She’d been afraid her mate would retreat again. But as before, he’d ignored it, like he’d ignored the rest of the daily news Bryant brought with him.

  Two weeks ago, Bryant had stopped with one foot out the door and said, “I think he actually sounded sarcastic at one point when I mentioned the senate. Whatever you’re doing, double down.”

  Her sleeping robe had been replaced with a white lacy number that she’d worn the first years they were married. He’d been in the bathroom the first night she’d worn it, and he’d refused to roll back to bed in his wheelchair when she was in the room. She’d tried to stubbornly wait him out the other night, but she’d fallen asleep and he’d slept in the bathroom in his wheelchair.

  Stubborn male.

  She’d quit sitting with him all day long. He needed time to process his feelings and the information Bryant gave him, and she needed him to see that she wasn’t with him out of obligation.

  And she didn’t stitch anymore. She’d never work with needle and thread again. She’d gotten a phone and learned how the other angels powered their electronics and used their services.

  So many apps. All the main movie apps were on the phone. Romantic comedies. Stand-up. Cat videos. She’d maneuvered her chair around so Leo could watch too. He hadn’t turned away from her, and yes, she might’ve played dirty to keep him from flipping to his other side while she was there.

  She laughed. She enjoyed herself, and more importantly, she enjoyed herself around Leo again.

  Now night had fallen and it was just the two of them in bed. She lay in bed, her wings tangled in Leo’s. He’d tried to tuck his close to his body, but she’d wormed her way in until her feathers were thrust all through his. He hadn’t retreated from her again.

  She looked over her shoulder. His shaggy hair was splayed across the pillow, but it was apparent he’d shaved.

  Had he done it for her? The thought that he was thinking about her made her restless. When she was restless, she started to worry again. How quickly her body had gotten used to orgasms as stress relief. No matter how much lighter the manor was, how much better she felt taking care of herself, she worried about her mate. She worried her efforts would be for nothing.

  She had to level up.

  Maybe it was time to satisfy her body in the bed she and Leo had made love in. Maybe it was time to be next to him while she did it.

  She hugged her wings to herself and rolled onto her back. If she was doing this, she wasn’t going to have her back to him.

  She reached out her arms and legs in a languid stretch, then widened her legs until the knee closest to Leo bumped his hip. Their feathers slid against each other. He twitched.

  They hadn’t touched intimately beyond their wings since the incident.

  She slid her hand down her belly. It could be her mate’s presence, his soap-fresh scent, but she was wetter than she’d ever been.

  Leo’s wings flicked. She turned her head and found him looking over his shoulder.

  “For fuck’s sake, Millie, are you doing that right here?”

  She circled her nub and her eyes went half-lidded. “I’d rather you do it.”

  He swallowed hard, his gaze traveling down her body to where she touched herself. “You don’t want me.”

  “Remember our sync night?” She undulated her hips and buried her free hand in his feathers. “Remember how slow you went?” His nod was jerky. “I was so mad at you. You’d made me wait for months, thinking you weren’t interested, and then you made me hold out until I thought I’d explode.”

  “You’d been waiting for months?”

  “Leo, you could’ve taken everything you wanted as soon as we met.”

  His brows dropped. “But we were only paired because I was injured.”

  “We were paired because we’re good together. You and me, Leo.”

  “Millie . . .”

  “I’ve missed you,” she said and groaned. Hearing his voice next to her while she was doing this sent electricity dancing along her nerve endings.

  “I’m not the same.” He almost turned away, but she tightened her grip in his feathers and yanked on his wings.

  “I don’t want the same, I want you.” She kicked her hips up and pressed her upper back into the mattress.

  “I want you too.” The confession was ragged, like it was torn out of him.

  “Get on your back,” she ordered.

  He tried to turn away again, but she tugged on his wing, and to her surprise, he rolled with it until his wings were pinned under him. His hands covered the mound at his hips, the erection that strained against the bedding.

  She immediately snuggled close to him, her hand still on her sex. “Do you want me to keep going?”

  “I want . . .” His mouth worked and anxiety clouded his eyes.

  “I want you inside me.” She leaned into him until her lips brushed his ear. “I can do this myself, or we can uncover you down to your waist, but, Leo—one of these nights I’m touching you. All. Over.”

  His throat pumped up and down as he worked over his decision. She continued stroking herself, her hips swiveling, and she let her passion show on her face. If she stopped, he stopped.

  He had to be the one to make the first move. She wasn’t forcing herself on him.

  “I’m so wet,” she whispered. She could encourage him though.

  He shoved the blankets down to his waist, paused, his gaze dipping to her hand and her hips, then he pushed them down farther, just until his cock sprang free.

  She sucked in a breath, desire flooding her core with heat. “Your erection has always been magnificent.”

  He fisted it, gave it a pump, and winced. “It’s sensitive.” His voice was ragged.

  No, he wasn’t ready for her to climb on yet. But this moment was further than she’d thought they’d ever get.

  “Does it feel good?” she asked.

  “You feel better
,” he answered honestly.

  “You’ll be inside of me for the next one.” Their gazes met and held.

  He pumped, pleasure-pain streaked across his face. She clung to him, increasing the pressure. He wouldn’t last long if this was the first time he’d climaxed in so long.

  “Millie,” he called and released into his hand and over his belly.

  She answered his cry with her own, his orgasm doing more to push her over the edge than her own efforts. “Leo!”

  His other hand dug into her thigh as he came, shaking the bed. When their climaxes died down, she didn’t let go. She continued stroking his hard chest, twirling her fingers over his abdomen.

  “I’m a mess,” he said.

  “I don’t mind.” She rolled to her knees. “I want more.”

  “You want . . . me?”

  “I’ve never stopped wanting you, Leo.”

  “You were so miserable. So sad.” He drew his hand away, but she caught it and held it to her bare leg.

  “I thought I’d lost you.”

  “You did.”

  She poked his chest. “You’re right here. It’s still you and me.” She dropped a kiss on his chest. “Our normal is going to be different. You took the lead. You did everything. I was Director Richter’s mate. Let’s find out who Leo Richter is. Who Millie Richter is.”

  “I don’t feel like myself anymore.”

  “You feel like you to me.”

  His gaze dropped to where his legs were covered by the bedding.

  “Still you.” She traced a finger along one pec, then the other. His erection hadn’t gone away, and every time she touched him, it jumped. “I want to be with you, Leo. I want to talk to you. I want to do things with you. I want to leave the house with you. But I can’t do it all for us.”

  “I know Bryant’s been bringing prosthetic brochures. The asshole.” There wasn’t real venom in his words. He skimmed his hand up her leg, under her lingerie, and didn’t stop until he cupped a breast. “I think it’s time I do something, maybe talk to someone.”

  “Whatever you want.”

  “I want to be inside you.”

  She carefully threw a leg over his waist and kept her wings from dislodging the bedding over his legs. That part would come later. She was primed for him, but she wouldn’t rush this moment. Life was going to be different for them, but this was him accepting it.