Free Rogue Descendant (Nikki Glass) by Jenna Black

suddenly gentling.
    Jamaal’s eyes went even wider, and he gaped at Logan. “How can you know?” he asked.
    “I tended your body after the executions, man. I know you have a shitload of scars. You don’t want to talk about them, that’s fine with me. Just change out of that wet shirt before someone else comes in looking for dinner.”
    Still shivering, Jamaal reluctantly peeled off his shirt, his shoulders hunched in a protective posture. He pulled Logan’s shirt on so fast it was a wonder he didn’t rip it, especially since he was at least a size larger than Logan.
    “I’m going to run up and get a new shirt,” Logan said, “and when I get back down, we’re going to talk about what just happened.”
    “That’s what you think,” Jamaal muttered under his breath, but Logan hadn’t waited to hear his answer and was already on his way out the door.
    Jamaal’s head was bowed, maybe in exhaustion, maybe in shame. He’d always seemed ashamed ofhimself when the death magic made his temper crack, but from my point of view, he had nothing to be ashamed of. It wasn’t like the death magic was a character flaw; he’d never asked for it. But I knew he wouldn’t appreciate it if I voiced the sentiment, especially when he seemed to be studiously avoiding my gaze. I decided acting as if nothing had happened might be the wisest course of action.
    “Do you want some coffee?” I asked. “Or some food? Logan made some kind of cold noodle dish that looks delicious.”
    “I’m sorry Sita went after you,” he said, ignoring my question and still not looking at me.
    I sighed and pulled out a chair so I could sit closer to his eye level. He met my gaze for about a millisecond before glancing away again.
    “Please talk to me,” I said. “I can’t help thinking Sita’s aversion to me may have something to do with how you feel about me.” It made sense to me that if Jamaal was still pissed at me for my attempted abandonment, Sita would pick up on it and hold it against me.
    “I’m not the sharing-my-feelings type.” He shoved to his feet, his balance still unsteady.
    I reached out to help him, but he neatly avoided my grasp.
    “I don’t need your help.”
    “Jamaal—”
    “Leave me alone, Nikki.”
    He turned his back on me and staggered out of the kitchen. I wanted to follow him, to try again, butI knew better. He had shut himself off from me—and from the rest of Anderson’s Liberi . Everyone was relieved that his temper was so much better controlled these days. So relieved I doubted anyone but me had seen the downside yet. Sure, he was easier to live with this way, but I didn’t think the isolation was good for him. Leo might be genuinely happy to live ensconced in his room with his computers and minimal human contact, but Jamaal needed people, whether he liked to admit it or not.
    Someone was going to have to chip away at the barriers he’d built around himself. I had a feeling the only someone who’d even be willing to try was me.

S IX
    My appetite had fled after all the excitement, but I sat down and ate the bowl of noodles Logan had dished out for me anyway. Logan didn’t return to the kitchen, and I wondered if he and Jamaal had bumped into each other on the stairway. Logan had seemed pretty determined to give Jamaal a talking to, and Jamaal had been equally determined to avoid it. I hadn’t heard any sounds of battle, so I assumed either it was something else that distracted Logan, or he and Jamaal were talking things out like civilized adults.
    I put the rest of the noodles in the fridge, then picked up the soggy shirt Jamaal had considerately left in a heap on the floor. I draped it over the back of one of the chairs to dry, then retrieved my purse and my planned itinerary for the night from my room. I thought long and hard about whether to bring my .38 Special with me. I would be within the D.C. citylimits for some of the drive, and it would be illegal to carry a loaded gun when I was. I