Demon Fire (Angel Fire #3) - Marie Johnston Page 0,47

growth and were easier on her still tender breasts than the others.

Plain T-shirts in off colors. Sickly green. Obnoxious yellow. Browns. All sorts of brown and none of them cute. None that complemented each other. She didn’t know how it was possible, but Dionna had managed it.

It wasn’t the clothing that irritated her. It was the sentiment behind it. She’d paid her dues. When would it be enough?

Should I tell Director Richter you said hi?

She deserved it.

Closing her eyes, she debated turning the hot water on and warming the water up. She’d love some bubble bath. A soothing scent that wouldn’t upset her stomach.

Why was her stomach so attuned to her nose?

Maybe she’d know if she read a book or two on pregnancy, but she’d have to tell the warriors and that wasn’t happening.

She should. Sandeen hadn’t said anything. Ever-present suspicion regarding the demon flared. He was smarter than the average demon. He was keeping the information to himself in order to benefit himself. She needed to let the warriors know. Even better—she needed to let them know and tell them not to let Sandeen know she’d told them. How would he attempt to use the information?

But she couldn’t. This baby wasn’t a pawn.

This baby.

Inhaling, she sat up. She couldn’t be stuck alone with her thoughts anymore. Lukewarm water sluiced down her body as she stood. After she dried off, she dressed and went to her bedroom. She wasn’t ready to go downstairs and be around anyone. She rolled her neck and stretched her shoulders. Then she lifted an arm and dug at the underwire sticking into her skin.

Already? Even a crappy bra should last over a week.

She dug out a sports bra and took her shirt off. The bra went in the garbage and she tugged the new one over her head.

“Hey, Sierra, they want you—”

The bra was in place by the time she spun. Boone’s mouth was stuck open and his gaze planted on her breasts. The thin material had to show as much as it covered, but she kept her arms at her sides. How self-conscious could one be in mud-brown leggings and limp, wet hair?

“Want me for what, Boone?”

He snapped his mouth shut and stepped back. His back hit the door, knocking it closed the rest of the way. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“You’ve made it clear you don’t want to look at me or touch me. I’m not worried that you’re trying to peek.” She waved her hands up and down her body. “It’s not like I’m putting on a spectacular show.”

In Numen, she’d been surrounded by tall, stunning angels. Male attention hadn’t been plentiful. She’d lost her virginity to a friend she’d been in warrior training with. They’d done the friends-with-benefits thing, and sometimes she’d picked up a human when she was working long missions on Earth.

Sure, she was fit. She still had some abs. Her breasts were slightly bigger than her normal size. Muscles filled out her biceps and thighs. But she wasn’t Harlowe. Statuesque. Stunning. Loyal. And she hadn’t cared. She’d lived to be a warrior, not a mate.

Yet the way Boone couldn’t keep his eyes off of her left her with a craving for more. Was this what she’d been missing? Was it the man who made the difference?

She shook her head. Moot points. Tossing the shirt over her head, she asked, “Did they say what it was about?”

Boone crossed his arms and stared at the floor in front of her feet. “There’s another warrior here.”

She’d seen Bronx out the window when he’d been unloading the moving van. He’d caught her looking and she hadn’t bothered waving. Just turned away before he could see the tears glittering in her eyes. She’d crawled back in bed and tried not to think about how she couldn’t walk up to Bronx, bump knuckles, and ask if he’d actually fought anyone or if he’d spent his whole time on Earth picking up women. She wouldn’t think about how he’d laugh and tell her that she was his favorite wingman.

Bronx was the brother she’d never had. Since her sister didn’t know she existed, the loss left a bigger hole than ever.

“Who?” She could go downstairs and see for herself but her feet were rooted in place.

“I don’t know. Blond.”

Icicles crystalized in her veins. “Jagger.”

Boone lifted a shoulder and finally lifted his gaze to hers. “Sierra? Are you going to faint?”

She might. “Damn hormones.” Her butt hit the edge of the bed. She wasn’t close enough