Rogue Descendant (Nikki Glass) - By Jenna Black Page 0,97
protested. I’d warned Cyrus myself that Konstantin would turn on him one day, but I still had a hard time understanding how someone could kill their own child. I don’t think there’s a more heinous crime in the universe.
“Doesn’t matter,” Anderson said. He finished tying his shoes, but remained in his chair, his body language fraught with tension. “Maybe Konstantin thought he’d be okay with it at first, but when he saw Cyrus taking over his role—and making some decisions he didn’t agree with—he realized he couldn’t stomach it. He might even think killing Cyrus would make the rest of the Olympians forgive his past mistakes and let him lead them again.” He raked his hand through his hair. I don’t know if that was a stress reaction, or if he actually thought he was finger-combing it. If the latter, he failed spectacularly.
“You still haven’t told me why Cyrus called you of all people. And why you’re at my doorstep at this hour of the morning.”
No, I hadn’t. And I didn’t want to. My throat tightened up on me, and I couldn’t think of what to say. I didn’t like the idea of sitting on Anderson’s bed, but my shaky knees wouldn’t hold me anymore, so I did it anyway.
I told myself I wasn’t really scared of Anderson. I told myself that I was having a hard time finding my voice because I didn’t want to cause him pain, and because I was enough of an emotional coward that I didn’t want to be there to see his pain. That part was true, at least as far as it went. But the truth was, I was scared. He was a freaking god! And anyone who has even a smidgen of familiarity with mythology knows that gods don’t act like human beings. They routinely kill the people closest to them, and they only sometimes show any remorse for having done it.
Despite my pathetic attempts to put on a brave face, Anderson couldn’t help but see my fear. I thought even that might make him angry, but when I sneaked a glance at his face, I saw only gentle compassion. I just didn’t know whether to trust it or not.
“You don’t have to be afraid of me, Nikki,” he said in a tone he might use with a frightened animal. “I can tell you have bad news to impart, and I promise I won’t kill the messenger.”
They were the right words, delivered in the right tone, and yet I still didn’t trust him. “I’ve seen your temper before,” I said, looking at the floor because I couldn’t bear to face him. “I saw you torture a couple of people to death. I saw you stand by and watch your wife being killed before your eyes because you were angry at her for betraying you. I saw what you did to all the trees in the clearing.” I didn’t even mention the times he had threatened to kill me.
He stood up and came toward me, and I had to fight an urge to jump to my feet and run. I was rather proud of myself for staying right there on the edge of the bed until Anderson was an arm’s length away. I would have had to look up to meet his eyes, but I felt no temptation to do so.
I practically jumped out of my skin when Anderson reached out and brushed his fingers over my cheek, tucking a stray lock of hair that had escaped my messy braid back behind my ear. The touch startled me enough to make me look up at his face.
“You have seen me get angry,” he said, and there was still that look of compassion in his eyes. “You have seen me be ruthless. You haven’t seen me truly lose my temper. I learned long ago how dangerous my temper can be. I did . . . terrible things in the old days, before I started consorting with humans. I will never let that happen again. That’s why I shut down like I did the other night. It’s what I had to do to contain myself.” He touched me again, a brief caress of my cheek.
“I would never hurt you, or your loved ones, or any of my people, in a fit of anger.”
I looked down, unable to think straight when he was looking at me like that. Maybe I was imagining things, but I thought I’d seen a kind of warmth in his gaze that