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

showed the outline of her bra. She couldn’t bring herself to care.

She shrugged into the gown like a jacket, sat on the cool paper protecting the exam table, and covered herself with a coarse blanket. A second later there was a knock on the door.

“Ready?” a new voice called.

Fuck no. “Yeah.”

The doctor walked in and her kindly smile and warm dark eyes drained some of the tension from Sierra. Until she wheeled in a cart with a monitor. Was that the ultrasound machine? The vaginal one?

“Would you like me to go?” Boone asked again.

No. But he’d be two feet away while the nice woman stuck a wand up her.

“It’s totally up to Mom,” Dr. Winston said as she took a chair and logged in to the laptop the nurse had left behind.

Sierra managed a small shake of her head. Dr. Winston lobbed question after question, many of them the same as the nurse’s. Then she said, “Shall we see how far along you are?”

Sierra glued her gaze to the white drop ceiling as Dr. Winston lubed up the wand and inserted it. Cool and uncomfortable, Sierra failed to cover her grimace. Not. Fun.

When the doctor said, “There we go,” Sierra chanced a peek at the screen and couldn’t look away. “Oh, God, it’s real.” Her throat constricted and a band tightened around her chest. Sucking in air was like breathing through a straw.

Dr. Winston chuckled. “It is at that.”

A strong hand gripped hers. Boone was over her, his eyes on the screen, the corners of his eyes pinched. When his gaze caught hers, his lips lifted in a little smile. This was supposed to be a happy time. The good doctor probably thought they were a couple eagerly anticipating the arrival of a new baby.

How did Sierra feel about the baby?

Now that she saw it, she couldn’t deny the pull of a deep, instinctive emotion that she couldn’t identify.

“Fifteen weeks, does that sound about right?”

She didn’t bother doing the math. She’d be ashamed all over again about her time with Jameson. “Yes, I’m sure that’s accurate.”

The doctor hit a button and a piece of paper slid out. Dr. Winston handed it to her. “Congratulations, Mom.”

Sierra stared at the picture with Boone as Dr. Winston wrapped up the ultrasound. Boone gave her hand another squeeze. She couldn’t take her eyes off the blurry image. An outline of a baby. She could tell where the head was, and the body. Would she see any wings on this small of a peanut?

She made it through the rest of the exam clutching the picture. She couldn’t take her eyes off it. Her. A mom. Sierra hadn’t known her own mother. She’d been forced on the female who’d died birthing her. This baby wasn’t planned. Far from it. She could ignore the little beating heart on the screen, or she could make her father proud. Ransom Cormorant had given up so much to raise her. He’d lived under constant fear of being discovered. Yet he’d still nurtured her. He’d loved her. She would do no less for this child.

The doctor rattled off the treatment plan and timeline for the next twenty-five weeks, but Sierra hardly listened. She’d failed her father, but she could honor the way he’d sacrificed for her. She’d do it by ensuring that Andy and the demons after her ended up dead.

It was the only way her baby would be safe.

Millie’s body hummed from her latest release. The physical response had been there. Nowhere as powerful as when her mate made her orgasm, and without the mental closeness of being with someone she was head over heels about. But she’d done it again and that was what counted.

Leo had been knocked off his game. She’d climbed into bed and he’d even twisted around to stare at her. She’d smiled and wished him a good night. And for the first time since before his injury, they’d slept in the same bed.

This time, she’d gotten herself off in the morning. Changed up her tactics. Kept him guessing. She hoped.

Flinging one side of her robe open, she strode into their bedroom. Leo was on his side, facing away from her as usual. His wings were tucked closer around his body than normal, as if he hoped they were an invisibility cloak.

Pursing her lips, she crossed to the drapes and flung them as wide open as her robe. There was a rustle of bedding as she let her eyes become accustomed to the bright sunshine.

Leo didn’t say anything. He didn’t ask her to shut the curtains. He didn’t protest like the first couple of times. He was silent.

Push him harder. She let out a nervous giggle. “Oh my goodness. I should tie my robe shut or I’ll flash the entire neighborhood.” She spun around, a fake smile plastered all over her face.

And found that he had his back to her, his wings forming a shell around him.

What the . . . When was the last time he’d rolled over that fast?

She narrowed her eyes. “They might see my breasts.” He didn’t twitch.

Her confidence wavered. How was she going to get through to him? Were orgasms really going to be enough to tear down the protective barrier his gray wings made?

Touching herself was all well and good, but she had a mate right here who could touch her whenever he wanted. The point of all this was to get him to want to do something, anything, at all.

She tilted her head. Touch.

When was the last time she’d touched him?

After he’d finished healing, he’d become self-competent enough to keep her at bay. She didn’t bathe him. She didn’t comb his hair. She didn’t help him get in and out of bed.

Summoning all the courage she had left, she sauntered to the edge of the bed. He couldn’t see her, but she didn’t care. She rolled her shoulders in a way that made her breasts jiggle.

What did humans say? Fake it till you make it.

She brushed her hand over the