Demon Fire (Angel Fire #3) - Marie Johnston Page 0,30
plus sign on the stick in the garbage was slowly setting in. Before the pink lines had appeared, she’d had a sliver of hope. That hope was gone.
“Your guy’s waiting by the door, glaring down a rack of magazines,” the demon said. “But I’m sure he’ll come knocking. You’d better make your decision.”
“Or you could tell me.”
The host’s expression turned serious. “Either give me your blood or I tell Andy exactly where you’re at. Think you and that human can outrun a hundred demons sent your way?”
Shit. Shit.
He let out a soft sigh. “Look, like you, I want to be left the hell alone, and I was this close”—he held his host’s fingers an inch apart—“from being free. But Andy’s got eyes everywhere and here I am. He wants something from you. He wants me to do his dirty work, and if I deliver, I’m not young and dumb enough to think that’ll be it and he’ll let me be on my way.”
If she knew the specifics, she might believe him. The trouble was, she believed him already. He wasn’t a typical archmaster. Save for those horns, he could blend into Numen easier than any other creature she’d seen.
Still, she hesitated. Nothing like this had worked out before and she refused to be a pawn again. If she caved, Boone could get hurt and he’d done nothing but help her. Her baby—
She could barely form the thought without gagging, sick to her stomach about what she’d done. Or was it morning sickness? Her gut churned.
What would the baby of two fallen be like? Normal, like a human? Tiny wings?
No one would help her, but if the baby had wings? Her realm would take it in a heartbeat. Take it and never look back.
She couldn’t let that happen. But wings? And how was she going to raise a baby?
Would it be better to let them take it?
Ferocious protectiveness welled until she leaned over the human the demon inhabited. “Leave this bathroom and never come back and I won’t let it slip when demons come for me that you were willing to strike a bargain.”
The host blanched. The demon inside tightened his mouth. “Dammit, Sierra, I don’t have time for this.”
He struck out, a blade she hadn’t noticed slicing the back of her hand. She hissed and raised a fist to punch the demon, stopping short because she’d do serious damage to the frail human. He clapped his hand over hers, rubbing the beads of blood between their skin.
She tried to tug away, but the host grew stronger with each second. “What the hell are you—”
The grip tightened more than it should for the older woman and the image of the demon grew clearer, more defined.
Sierra stopped fighting against his hold, her arm going still. She glanced down at her hand. The woman’s arthritic fingers gripped her, but she felt the much larger hands that overlaid them. She shouldn’t feel him. She shouldn’t see him so well, shouldn’t see the clear blue of his irises or how his horns curved into his thick hair.
“I can see you,” she whispered.
His eyes glinted and his jaw clenched as he gazed down at their hands. “You should be doing more than fucking seeing me.”
His voice. The deep rumble of his voice was clearer than the reedy words of the old woman. He released her, looked at the red smeared along the wrinkled skin of the palm, and then yanked her hand again.
Sierra’s curiosity let him. What the hell was going on?
“I should be free of this host,” he gritted out. “Maybe it’s your blood.”
She yanked her hand away and shoved it under the faucet. He watched, his scowl on her cut the whole time. “Thanks, asshole. I’m going to have a scar.”
“Fallen don’t scar.”
She glanced at him. “How do you know?”
He lifted a shoulder. “Jameson didn’t have any. He didn’t even age.”
“Don’t remind me,” she muttered. Jameson’s body had been perfection, his only scars the ones from losing his wings. She had her own. “We can’t base our knowledge of fallen on Jameson. He was different.”
“Was he different, or determined?” The demon watched her. “You sound downright sentimental. Don’t tell me he got to you.”
The human’s voice was stronger than the demon’s. Whatever her blood had done was fading.
She slapped a paper towel over her cut and glared at the demon. “Since your experiment failed, care to tell me what my blood was supposed to do?”