Demon Fire (The Angel Fire Book 3) by Marie Johnston (top 10 novels of all time TXT) 📕

going to pick you up.” He said it so loud it startled a bird out of the trees to his left. The caws died in the wind and snow drifted down from the disrupted branches to land soundlessly on the ground.

The woman didn’t respond.

He considered the best way to transport her. He did not think about how he’d have to bring her back to his place. His sanctuary. No one else had been there since he’d moved in, since he’d put his suitcase down and tucked away his tormented memories as he stepped over the threshold.

But his pickup was as cold as the dirt in his driveway. The woman needed to warm up. He’d call for help from his cabin.

It’d been a long time since he’d been in a position to save someone. He’d constructed a new life, one in which he wasn’t responsible for anyone or anything. He didn’t even have a fucking dog—a stupid idea in a place where bears got a little too comfortable around humans.

Damn. He’d rather save a dog than this lady. He didn’t want her to die, he just didn’t want her to be his problem.

She needed to get out of the snow. Shrugging his rifle strap over his head, he set the weapon down, away from the woman, and took his coat off. The cold barely touched him through his red flannel shirt. He draped the coat over her body and put the rifle back over his head against his back. He steeled himself and wedged his arms under her, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t pick her up without jostling her wounded back. A sharp gasp emanated from the mystery woman and she stiffened. She jerked her head around, her eyes wide, frantic.

He opened his mouth to tell her to calm the fuck down. He had to get her out of here before a nasty storm covered her in two feet of snow, but—

Her ethereal eyes were the loveliest shade of blue he’d ever seen. Tiny flecks of yellow deep in her irises sparkled like a thousand city lights under the cloud-covered sky.

Just as quickly as it had happened, her eyelids slid closed and she went limp once again.

He still didn’t move, afraid to cause her more pain, afraid she’d pierce him with those cornflower beauties that came too damn close to making him wish for things he had no business thinking about.

A gust of wind kicked up, stirring the loose top layer of snow and swirling it around him and the woman.

The storm.

He’d be slow as it was carrying another human being. Delaying any longer just because she had really pretty eyes wasn’t helping either of them out. It’d be a race to make it back to his cabin before the weather made it too difficult for an ambulance to make it out to him.

As he carefully gathered her into his arms, he adjusted his coat and searched the rest of her body for obvious signs of injuries. Nowhere else was bloody, not like her back. He turned her over his shoulder to keep the pressure off her back and took one last look at the ground where she’d been lying. Nothing that’d give him a clue about who she was and how she’d ended up in the middle of the forest with nothing more than a sack to cover her.

Where had this angel come from?

Sierra struggled against the sweet lure of consciousness. Memories settled in place like a losing game of Tetris, showing her that she hadn’t been good enough to win at life. She’d played a hard game, tried to fit in, but the secrets had piled up too fast until she’d lost. She wasn’t ready to face the dismal circumstances of her new life. The closer she crawled out of the depths of nothing, the more she hurt.

Pain seared her back like out-of-control lightning up and down her body. She deserved it. Deserved all of it.

Especially losing her wings. Having them carved out of her was just the tip of what she was owed.

A male had lost his legs because of her. His position in society. His purpose.

They were angels, as immortal as a being could get. Yet she’d cost an immortal his limbs, thanks to angel fire and the intel she had given the enemies of her realm.

A product of my birth.

She’d tried so hard to be what her father had wanted her to be.

The memory of a tall shadow prowling around from behind her, boots crunching in the gravel, rose in her mind. Winger—aptly named, as he was the one responsible for physically cutting her downy, dark gray wings off. He was also the one responsible for wherever the hell she’d ended up.

“As per our laws, I’ve dumped you somewhere on Earth. A place where you have no friends, no family, no connections. I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that as a fallen, you can have no contact with any angel from Numen. You can’t talk to them, and if they talk to you, they risk becoming like you—alone, pathetic, and bleeding in a heap.”

She hadn’t had the energy to look around. Light had pained her eyes, the agony in her back making everything hurt. The cold blunted it. Winger had abandoned her in some winter hell, as if he’d known she used to sit outside and soak up the rays, thankful for each day she had the opportunity to do so.

A sardonic laugh had rasped from her cracked lips after Winger had finished his declaration. Ow. Another part of her body in agony. Another memory that was crystal clear. She’d gnawed her lips raw trying to remain strong as her connection to the only home she’d ever known was sawed away.

Brutality and pain. It was inevitable. She caused it; she reaped it.

“Find something funny?” Winger’s voice had dripped with hate. A male she once used to joke around with had showed her no friendliness—and no mercy.

Wouldn’t he like