Jenna Black - Dark Descendant

“Thank you,” he said, then heaved a big sigh. “I’ve been without hope for so long I’d forgotten what it feels like.”

The knot in my chest tightened. I hated to get his hopes up when the chances that I could find Emma seemed so slim.

Anderson smiled wanly. “Don’t worry. Unlike Konstantin, I am not prone to unrealistic expectations. I know there’s a chance he’s lying to me and she’s been dead all along. I also know there’s a chance even your skills won’t prove equal to finding her, and that even if we find her, she may be irreparably damaged by what she’s been through.”

Anderson shook off some of his sadness. He sat up straighter in his chair, and his hands finally relaxed in his lap. I wondered if he’d been clenching them hard enough to leave nail marks on his palms.

“You’ll need to move in as soon as possible,” he said. “If Konstantin finds out you and I have reached an agreement before you’re actually under my roof, he’ll declare open season on you.”

I was in no hurry to install myself in the mansion, and I didn’t like the sense that Anderson was trying to rush me. However, the idea of spending another night in the hotel didn’t have much appeal, either, and I still wouldn’t feel safe going home. I had to stay somewhere tonight. Besides, I reminded myself, I was planning to consider this mansion an ultra-luxurious hotel. A stopgap measure until I could figure out a better way to protect Steph.

“I’m ready whenever you are.”

He nodded briskly. “Good. I’ll open up one of the spare bedrooms for you.”

“Thanks. What about Jamaal? And Blake?”

He raised an eyebrow. “What about them?” I would have thought he was playing stupid, except he looked genuinely puzzled by my question.

“You might have noticed they don’t like me much. How are they going to feel if I move in under your roof?”

Anderson shrugged. “Their feelings about it don’t enter into the equation. This is my house, and I can invite whomever I please.” He seemed to notice the severity in his voice and flashed me a rueful smile. “There I go being tyrannical again, huh?”

I smiled back. “I wasn’t going to say it.”

He acknowledged that with a nod. “Blake might not like it, but he’ll understand. Jamaal will need some careful handling, but I’ll have a long talk with him while you’re gone. I’ll make it very clear that he’s to play nice with you.”

“Even though he still thinks I killed Emmitt on purpose?”

Anderson’s brow furrowed. “I have to wonder if he really believes that. It would be awfully hard for a Descendant not affiliated with the Olympians to find out we existed at all, much less understand her own heritage and our vulnerability, then arrange to kill one of us.”

“Who said she’s not affiliated with the Olympians?” a voice asked from the hall just outside the kitchen, and we both jumped a little.

The adrenaline kept pumping as I turned to watch Jamaal walk casually into the kitchen. He was looking much more sane today. There was still an unmistakable spark of anger in his eyes, but he no longer looked crazed by it. That didn’t make him any less lethal.

On the scale of male beauty as judged by Nikki Glass, Jamaal was the most gorgeous of all the Liberi I’d met. Tall and broad-shouldered, he had the build and the grace of an athlete. He wore his hair in shoulder-length beaded braids, the braids following the contours of his elegantly shaped skull up to about his ears. High cheekbones, luxuriously long eyelashes, and full, sensual lips made his face into a work of art. I’d never seen him smile, but I suspected the effect would be devastating.

Of course, I’d have found him a lot more attractive if he weren’t looking at me with such loathing. At least he wasn’t charging at me with murder in his eyes.

Anderson pushed his chair back from the table, watching Jamaal carefully although he didn’t get up.

“I thought I made it clear that I wasn’t to be disturbed,” he said, and though his voice was mild, there was a threat implied in his words.

Jamaal didn’t come any closer, but he didn’t go away, either. “Sounded to me like you were wrapping up.”

“Eavesdropping?” Anderson asked with a quirk of his eyebrow. “You’ve been hanging around Jack too long.”

Jamaal grimaced in distaste. “Low blow, boss.”

I gathered that Jamaal and Jack weren’t great friends, which I supposed made sense. Jack was a trickster, and I’d seen no evidence to date that Jamaal even knew what a sense of humor was.

“I call ’em like I see ’em,” was Anderson’s unrepentant reply. “How long have you been listening?”

Jamaal hunched his shoulders like a little kid getting scolded by his dad. “Long enough to think it was time to let you know I was here. Sorry.” He flicked a glance at me, his expression no warmer than it had ever been when he looked at me. “My question stands: who says she’s not working for the Olympians? Wouldn’t Konstantin just laugh his ass off if we accepted his murdering little spy into our house with open arms!”

“If I had my choice,” I said before Anderson could answer, “I’d have nothing to do with any of you. I want my life back.”

“So you say,” Jamaal countered. “But talk is cheap.”

“Children…” Anderson chided, making a long-suffering face. I chose not to respond to Jamaal’s jibe, and he subsided. Anderson nodded his approval.

“If it turns out she’s a spy working for Konstantin,” Anderson said, “we’ll deal with it when we have proof.” The look he shot me then spoke volumes about just how he would “deal with it.” He might be giving me the benefit of the doubt, but he wasn’t wholly convinced of my innocence.

I was too stubborn to drop my gaze, though it was hard to look into his eyes when his expression was so forbidding. Apparently satisfied with what he saw, he turned to Jamaal.

“I need you to prove to me that you can keep it together without Emmitt around to balance your temper. Nikki is now under my protection, and I won’t have her being threatened or harassed by one of my own people.”

Jamaal’s chin jutted out stubbornly, and the look in his eyes was downright mutinous, though he didn’t argue. At least not out loud. Anderson apparently read his expression the same way I did.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he said, “but you have no place under this roof if you can’t accept my authority.”

I squirmed and wished I could be anywhere else but here. The sudden pain on Jamaal’s face was too much to bear. He was still grieving for his friend, still furious at me, and Anderson had just delivered a threat that caused a soul-deep hurt.

I didn’t like Jamaal, of course. But I could empathize with him. I wasn’t sure what the relationship had been between him and Emmitt—had they been more than friends?—but the pain of that loss was obviously agonizing. I knew what it was like to act out when in pain. I’d spent years doing it after my mother abandoned me. I suspected Jamaal was feeling abandoned himself right now, and to have Anderson threaten to kick him out for my sake must have been like a dagger to his heart.

“So,” Anderson prompted when Jamaal just stood there looking devastated, “are you going to accept Nikki’s right to stay in my house? Or are we going to have a problem?”

Jamaal shot me a look of pure loathing. “There’s no problem,” he replied. “As long as you don’t expect me to like it, I can accept her presence.”

Internally, I groaned. I was supposed to stay in the same house with this guy? That meant I’d probably have to come face to face with him on a regular basis, which seemed like a recipe for disaster.