Demon Fire (Angel Fire #3) - Marie Johnston Page 0,66
in the room cost money to use, the owner had gladly tacked on a five-dollar charge.
There was a knock on the door. Sierra pressed herself against the headboard and considered rolling off to crouch behind the bed, but Boone put his back to the wall and used a finger to pull the curtain back an inch. He scanned the rest of the parking lot before opening the door. He blocked the crack in the door to keep the pizza delivery person from seeing her.
When the delivery guy was gone, she dug into the pizza, using the box top as her plate along with Boone as they sat on the hard chairs of the side table that was so small the pizza box hung off the side. He’d purchased a few bottles of water and a Sprite. She had a feeling she could’ve asked for a filet mignon and hand-squeezed orange juice and he would’ve gotten it for her. The way he hovered and looked her over from head to toe every few minutes, the accident had left him shaken and not from the injuries.
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.”