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

A spot on her wrist burned. She hissed the same time Boone did. They pulled away, looking at their flesh. Sierra peered closer. Was that a . . .

“No way.” A faint image of a single wing. “A sync brand.”

“You got it too?” Boone’s gaze jumped back and forth. “What does that mean?”

“In Numen, it’d mean we’re meant to be. Tied together forever.” The truth of the words resonated to her bones.

“Forever,” he echoed, hopefulness in his tone. “It’s a good sign. Right?”

“Yes?”

She pulled him out to the kitchen where Jagger and Urban were helping Alma dismantle the lion puzzle Urban was so proud of. A new lion and lioness puzzle waited on the counter. “Guys. What do you think this means?”

Jagger’s eyes widened and Urban said, “Holy. Shit.”

Alma hummed and kept to her puzzle task, smiling to herself.

Jagger went toward the sliding door. “I think it means I should go get Director Vale. It can’t hurt to have a sync ceremony.”

“Wait.” What would Boone think? She grabbed his hand, her thumb brushing the mark. “It’d be like getting married, but way deeper, for much longer. It’s something you can think on. Getting the brand doesn’t mean you have to go through the bonding.”

Boone turned her hand in his and covered it with his other one. “I think that I might’ve pulled you out of the snow, but you pulled me out of purgatory. We’re in this life, together.”

Epilogue

The doorbell gonged through the house. Sierra’s eyes popped open and the swaddled baby on her chest squirmed. She’d fallen asleep in the recliner in the middle of the day. It was like she’d regressed to her training years, when they’d been taught to catch shut-eye anytime and anywhere they could.

“We should’ve dismantled that damn thing,” Boone groaned from the couch. He’d been napping too. He rolled up and his long strides took him to the door of their three-bedroom cabin outside of Helena. They were close enough to the city to get decent internet but private enough that they could tell if anyone was trying to sneak up on them.

Her security system was top-notch. She had cameras all over the trees. A wolf couldn’t sneeze without her knowing.

Boone had proposed moving back to Montana shortly after he arrived in Vegas. The proximity of people strummed his nerves and they had both longed for the simplicity of mountain life. Jack and Shari Smith were put to rest. They were Boone and Sierra Reamer, and Boone didn’t sell health insurance.

Arik was three months old. When he was much older, they would travel to meet and talk with fallen in person, discreetly gathering data. But for now, she used all of her surveillance skills to do it between diaper changes and feedings, like she’d planned to in Vegas, before her bond with Boone.

Voices murmured from the entry, along with the fresh, clean scent of the great outdoors. Snow was coming. She looked forward to being snowed in with Boone again. They had a lot more food supplies than their first cabin had held.

Was it someone from her team? Jagger had made good on his vow to stick around. He and Felicia had babysat so she and Boone could buy groceries without planning the adventure between feedings. Urban was back to being his old self around her, and Bronx joked about teaching Arik all the things Sierra had given Bronx crap about. Dionna had held Arik as a newborn, wonder filling her deep brown eyes.

Harlowe was the only one who hadn’t made an appearance.

The regret never went away, but with Boone and her baby, the reminder wasn’t such a blow.

Boone appeared at the edge of the foyer. “You have visitors.”

She sniffed her free shoulder. Did she smell like sour milk? Was her hair frightening? She shouldn’t care. These angels knew her—all of her. Her hair brushed just past her shoulders, the last six inches an inky black. The nurse in the delivery room had asked her who did her hair. I had it done in Vegas was the easy lie.

Boone looked to the side at the visitors she couldn’t see, his expression conflicted. These weren’t her teammates or he wouldn’t have hesitated. Yet he’d let them into the house.

A furrow developed between his brow. “It’s, um . . .”

“Sierra, it’s Leo. Leo and Millie Richter.”

A vise gripped her heart at the familiar voice. He’d been an imposing male in his day, commanding all the warriors and dressing down senators who wanted to interfere in warrior business.

“Director Richter.” Her panicked gaze caught Boone’s, but his small smile was reassuring. He stepped aside to let the couple through.

Soft thumps accompanied footsteps. When the director turned the corner, the backs of her eyes burned. He used crutches that cuffed his forearms as he walked methodically on metal and plastic legs. He wore a plain gray hoodie and black basketball shorts. Concentration wrinkled his brow but he never stopped.

His dark gaze lifted to hers. “Still getting used to these damn things.”

His mate followed him. Strain lined her face, but drained when Millie’s gaze landed on Arik. “Oh my, that’s him?”

“Y-yes.” Sierra sat up and Arik shifted. Should she stand? Should she rock Arik back to sleep? He’d been up half the night. “Director Richter.” She’d wanted to tell him how sorry she was, knowing her words would do nothing to help him.

The director went to the couch Boone had been napping on and carefully lowered himself. “It’s not Director anymore, Sierra.” When he settled, he turned his solemn stare to her. “Just Leo. We both know that better than anyone.”

“I’m so sorry.” She tried to fight the tears but she couldn’t blink enough to stop the fall. Boone stayed by the foyer, sensing that this was something she had to face on her own.

“I know.” He rubbed one of his thighs. Was that where the prosthesis cupped his leg to stay on? Did it hurt? “Millie and I came today because we agreed that we all need this to keep from