Demon Fire (Angel Fire #3) - Marie Johnston Page 0,42
was smaller. If they hated her that much, they could kick her out. She was going for the door when a brush of heat swept up her back. Boone had come up the stairs. The man was stealthy. She’d thought the cabin swallowed the sound, but in this big, open house, he was as silent as he’d been in the woods.
He didn’t say anything as she entered the bedroom. A bed with two nightstands and a dresser. Nothing on the walls. Had this house been staged for selling and her team had bought it and all the belongings?
It was what she would’ve done.
Boone stepped in behind her and shut the door.
“Don’t tell them about the baby.” She hadn’t confirmed it to him until now, but since she would’ve gone months before she realized her “condition,” she figured he hadn’t needed to see the double lines.
He didn’t reply.
She crossed to the edge of the bed and sat. “The father was a bad choice.” She’d told Boone a lot today, but none of it had been the important stuff.
“The Stede you mentioned?”
She shook her head, her stomach roiling. “No.” She let out a scornful laugh. “Worse than him.” Her shoulders sagged. “Such a bad decision. But I never thought it would lead to this. Angels don’t have a lot of kids. Mates can be together for centuries before they have kids.”
“Right.” He rounded to the other side of the bed. The mattress dipped as he took a seat, their backs to each other. “Depending on how long this takes, they’re going to notice eventually.”
“I know.”
“You should have prenatal vitamins. Doctor visits.”
Was there a book for what to expect when you were expecting and you’d lost your wings? “I don’t have money or insurance. Or identification.”
“Can those two get some for you?”
“Yes. They’ll probably have the identification ready soon.”
The bed jostled as he removed his shoes. “I can sleep on the floor.”
“No. Don’t.” The relief that swamped her when Harlowe had said they had to share a room was shameful. She had fallen into this world and been with him ever since. Things had seemed simpler just a day ago. Now she had demons after her and a baby to deal with. “Please don’t be uncomfortable because of me. I’ve upset your life enough.”
“That’s an understatement.” He rolled to his side and adjusted his pillow. He wasn’t getting under the covers.
She stood and drew back the sheets. Crawling beneath them, she didn’t miss how he shifted closer to his edge of the bed. Heat burned the backs of her eyes. A houseful of people who disliked her and a demon who wanted her blood.
She deserved nothing less.
There was nothing to do. Not a damn thing. He couldn’t go outside, but it wasn’t like he had a lawn to mow. The backyard had a pool that was covered. As the new “owner” he could go out and take it off, but he didn’t know shit about pools. And he had no way to look it up.
He and his “wife” were supposed to work from home but the office next to the bedroom the demon slept in had a desk and chair. That was it. He’d mentioned a computer, but they weren’t letting Sierra close to anything electronic.
Luggage had arrived the day after they had in the form of a half-full moving van. Boxes of clothing for him, Sierra, and Alma had been unloaded by the driver, a man by the name of Bronx who had acted way too familiar with the two warriors. Another “angel”? The boxes filled with laptops and tablets and phones were squirreled away in the room the warriors used when they weren’t pulling duty watching Sandeen like a hawk. If Harlowe and Urban really had wings, that would be a humorous image. Boone didn’t feel like laughing.
He was a prisoner. He’d followed Sierra and lost his freedom.
Would it be worth the price?
He’d slept next to a fitful Sierra last night. Her feelings had been hurt. The way her gaze had dropped when her friends—coworkers?—had mentioned anything to do with her fall . . . He couldn’t blame her for not telling them about the baby. If the father would be an issue for them, then they’d use it against Sierra. But if he was worse than the guy who’d blackmailed her, then . . . Boone didn’t know what that meant. She’d been scared and alone and made stupid decisions.