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

shirt over his head and dropped it on the floor. Time to put out a little to get what he wanted.

“And what would you do?” she purred and dug at the tie of his waistband, her claws ripping at the fabric. His cock twitched to life. Bloodthirsty or not, Zanda had nice breasts.

“Figure out a way to kill Andy.”

Excitement blazed in her obsidian eyes. “How?”

“He’s human. It wouldn’t take much. I just have to get close to him.”

She licked across his ear and fisted his cock. He winced at the sharp stab of her claws on his most sensitive flesh. She grinned. “What does he want with the fallen?”

“I can torture that information out of him.”

She lifted herself and slammed down on him. He groaned, more from the sudden impact than pleasure.

“We have a deal, Sandeen.”

Relief washed over him. He closed his eyes and let her have her way with him. This time tomorrow, he’d be somewhere on Earth, staying in his own form thanks to Jameson’s blood, and no one would find him.

Sierra turned her back on the parenting magazines on the end table behind her. She’d read one headline when she sat down, wondered what the hell thrush was, and fought off a panic attack.

She’d hunted demons. All her time as a warrior hadn’t been behind a desk. She’d yanked several symasters and archmasters out of hosts and fought them in the Mist. A full-on battle. She might be shorter than many of her fellow warriors, but she’d been fast and efficient.

Motherhood terrified her. A helpless life depended on her. She’d had lives depend on her before. Director Richter hadn’t been helpless and he’d suffered.

A baby.

Coping by deluding herself that it wasn’t real had worked—until she’d entered the clinic. One woman sat in a cushioned chair, a baby carrier at her feet. Another had a feeding blanket over her shoulder, covering a nursing baby. A few others scrolled through their phones or magazines, one hand resting on their rounded belly. Bellies of every size dotted the waiting room. A couple of others were like her. Not showing yet, or perhaps had appointments for different reasons.

Jagger hadn’t wasted time setting her up with a doctor. Part of her had hoped Sandeen’s antics would have glossed over the baby in his mind. But he’d passed on the information to Dionna and Director Vale, updated Bronx, and finished coordinating life for Jack and Shari Smith, all in two days.

That had begun with fake insurance and using her brand-new fake ID to register for her appointment. Boone was next to her. He paged through a local magazine highlighting all the attractions they wouldn’t be able to visit.

Harlowe had stuffed some padding under her shirt and walked in five minutes after them. She’d driven separately. She’d even made an appointment for an hour after Sierra’s appointment and pretended to forget, claiming she’d just wait, so it wouldn’t seem odd that she sat so long in the waiting room. When Sierra was done, Harlowe would cancel and they’d figure out a different ruse next time.

Boone tossed the magazine to the side and propped his elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. They must look like one pensive couple.

A set of double doors whooshed open. A nurse in lavender scrubs exited, a laptop in her hands. “Shari Smith.”

Boone stood first and held his hand out.

They followed the nurse to the exam room. Sierra tried not to gawk. Doctors’ offices weren’t an area she’d had to patrol. Angels stayed away from them as technology advanced. The days when they could linger with a mop bucket and pretend to be part of housekeeping and not get questioned were gone. Secure access and highly skilled workers made it harder to blend.

The nurse led her through unfamiliar procedures. A weight check. Blood pressure. Pulse rate. Was all this necessary for the baby?

Then came the questions, each one making her cringe harder than the one before. When was your last period?

How about never? She went with “It was sporadic.”

How far along do you think you are?

Three to four months. Sierra had to hand it to the nurse. She didn’t bat an eye, but gave Sierra a reassuring smile. “Dr. Winston will be right in.” The nurse went to the exam table in the middle of the room and pulled out a cloth item. “Get undressed from the waist down. You can leave your socks on.”

“I . . . What?” Get undressed. Here? For what?

“Thank you,” Boone said.

The nurse was gone and Sierra was left staring at the fabric. “Why do I need to undress?”

“The doctor might do an ultrasound. With Phoebe, she did one that . . .” Alarm settled in his eyes. He cleared his throat. “Was vaginal.”

“What?”

“With a wand.” He gave her a sympathetic smile. “I can leave the room.”

“She just sticks it up there?”

He peered at her. “You really have no experience with doctors?”

“Numen has no need for obstetricians.”

“Well, pregnancy isn’t a good time to be modest. The doctor will do regular physical exams and measure your belly. I don’t know how often she’ll do internal exams. Those are in the later months, I think.”

“Is this really all necessary?”

“For the most desirable outcome, yes.” His tone was gentle. He’d been through this before. She’d have to rely on his experience.

“I can’t exactly give birth in a hospital.” She whispered, “What if the baby has wings?”

He thought for a moment. “They’ll think it’s an abnormality in the ultrasound. By the big ultrasound partway through, they should be able to tell.” Uncertainty flashed in his brown eyes. “I think.”

“And then we can ghost them.” Her panic died down. “And figure out what to do after that.”

“Sure.” He didn’t sound convinced. “Do you want me to leave the room so you can get changed?”

“Close your eyes.”

He did and put his elbows on his knees with his face in his hands.

She took off her canvas shoes and leggings, the ones she’d fled Green Valley in. Her shirt was a light purple, so thin it