by Jenna Black
I sighed. “I wish I could convince you I don’t work for Konstantin.”
He cracked a smile that reminded me for the zillionth time just how mouthwateringly gorgeous he was. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m less convinced now than I was a couple days ago. You did find Emma, after all.” The smile faded into a thoughtful expression. “And Anderson is no fool. He trusts you for a reason. That’s good enough for me for the time being.”
I rolled my eyes at him. “Wow, what a ringing endorsement.”
He smiled again—I think that made three times in two days, which might be a record for him. “Ask anyone—coming from me, that is a ringing endorsement.”
He stood up, and I felt obliged to stand, too, if only because I didn’t want to have to crane my neck to look at him.
“Now if you’re finished sulking in the basement,” he said, “Anderson’s called a meeting for about thirty minutes from now to discuss our future relations with the Olympians now that we have Emma back. You don’t want to miss it.”
He turned his back and skedaddled out of the room before I could tell him what I thought of his “sulking” comment.
When I’d come down to the basement, I’d been halfway thinking I needed to make myself disappear. How could I consider working for a terrifying god of death and vengeance who could kill immortals with a touch and had no qualms about burning one of his own people to death in punishment for disobedience?
Jamaal’s words, however, gave me serious pause. Not only had Anderson not followed through on his most dire threat, but Jamaal was clearly feeling better. Before, he’d been like a wounded animal, snarling and biting without any rational thought. “Borderline crazy,” I’d labeled him, and I suspected it was the truth. Now, he seemed human. Still in pain, and still a dangerous man, but not plunging off the deep end anymore. It made me wonder: how much of Anderson’s “punishment” had truly been punishment? And how much had been a demonstration of a particularly harsh version of “tough love”?
I wasn’t yet convinced that staying with Anderson and his merry band was the best way for me to deal with my uncertain future. They were likely soon to be at open war with the Olympians, and that spelled more ordeals and more trauma for me if I stayed with them.
But maybe, just maybe, if Anderson could take an alienated loner like Jamaal and make him into something like a member of the “family,” he could do the same for me.
And that was something I’d gladly brave the terrifying future to achieve.
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Document creation date: 29.4.2011
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