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

was from Boone’s hunting efforts and not a grocery store.

In Numen, she got food from the market. Angels who had assumed servile roles in the realm procured all the items they needed, mostly fruit and vegetables, some grains, and the occasional chicken breast. They either grew it or transported it from the human realm. Food broke up the days, brought loved ones together.

Sierra had often eaten on Earth, preferring the variety. And the isolation. In the home base her team would help her make, she had stared at screens all day. She’d learned to cook during the longer missions.

Skills that were more useful to her now than knowing ten ways to kill a demon.

She dug out meat labeled pheasant and wished for a little internet. A pheasant might be a bird, but did she treat it like chicken?

It was getting treated like chicken. Thankfully, Boone had used scant counter space for a microwave. While she thawed the bird, she came up with a side of pasta and tomato sauce. In between thaw cycles, she wandered to the windows.

Where was he?

Her back ached and sleepiness weighed down her eyelids. Her stamina had turned to shit. She shook herself and stretched her arms to the side, then over her head. The pleasure-pain the slow moves caused was worth it.

Boone had been right. This needed to be done.

She dug out the flour. Fried pheasant might taste like crap, but that was what they were having. If Boone complained, he should’ve come back.

It took less than an hour to cook the small bird and make her pasta. She didn’t feel right eating without Boone. He’d done so much for her and this was the first time she’d done anything in return.

Where was he?

She left the food and went to the coat rack. His parka was long enough to fall to her knees. His spare pair of boots would be enough to keep her warm as she searched for him. Light was fading fast and she was no longer immortal. If she was going to look for him, it had to be now.

Outside, she sucked in a breath. Damn, it was cold. Air wicked across her face, stealing all heat. Her breath puffed out around her. The world was still, like all life had frozen. So quiet, she could either forget everything that had happened, or do nothing but remember it.

She worked on forgetting as she slogged around the cabin in boots that were too big. Snow had been meticulously cleared from the door and windows, all the way down the drive that disappeared between towering evergreens. They weren’t as close as she expected, not having bothered to look out the windows. They were massive and spread out, kind of like Montana itself.

“Boone?” Behind the cabin was a shed. No wonder he’d cleared such a wide path around the cabin.

The shed was actually a garage. Was he in there?

A muffled thump caught her ear. Instead of calling for him, she shuffled toward the noise. The sound wasn’t rhythmic. It sounded more like he was stacking something.

She rounded the back of the garage. A massive wood pile was haphazardly stacked against the back wall of the garage. Boone’s back was to her. He bent to grab a couple chunks of wood and she bit her lower lip.

She had no right—no right—to ogle his ass. But he had a fine one. It wasn’t hard to look at, unlike his eyes. Eyes that hinted at a well of emotion she could drown in. Eyes that were concerned for her.

But his ass was safe to look at.

Her face heated. She’d been down the road of unthinking desire and she couldn’t go down it again. Boone didn’t deserve it.

“Boone.”

He stiffened, his head cutting to the side, but not quite looking over his shoulder. Frost covered his beard and the hair closest to his face.

“I made supper.” She shifted her weight to her other foot. “And I showered.”

That made him turn around, his lips tugging down. “Is your head wet?”

“It’s dry. You’ve been gone awhile.” She pointed her finger straight up. “It’s almost dark.”

He cocked a brow. “Really?”

She caught the dry sarcasm and her small chuckle surprised her. “It’s been a while since I’ve had to talk to people.”

The corner of his mouth tipped up. “Me too.”

They stared at each other. Other than his red cheeks and the red tip of his nose, he didn’t act like the cold affected him. The gloves he wore must’ve been an extra pair in the garage. Without them, he would’ve been frostbitten by now, or worse.

She didn’t want him to get hurt because of her.

He dropped the hunk of wood. “You cooked?”

“I guess it’s time to enter the land of the living.”

His lack of a reply unnerved her. She hadn’t asked to be rescued, but she felt like she owed him something.

“I can’t tell you what happened.” He wouldn’t believe her anyway. “I tried my entire life to be a good person, to protect others. I tried my whole life to make my father proud, but in the end, I did something that got someone I admire hurt.”

Her whole team could’ve been killed.

Again, Boone didn’t reply right away.

“I knew someone like that. She tried to be a good person. In the end, it wasn’t enough.” Hurt resonated in his voice.

He didn’t like the person he spoke of. Would he hate her too?

“I like to think that if she got a second chance, she’d do better. What about you, Sierra? Are you going to do better?”

She didn’t answer right away. He might think that type of question should have an immediate answer, but he’d also had to yell at her to shower. “I want to. I’ll be honest, I don’t know how.” Her worries spilled out, the real reason she’d been afraid to do more than stare at a wall. “I have no money. I have no home. No clothes. I should probably change my name.”

No one should want to find her, but her sensible