Stumbling footsteps on the stairs.
A loud thunk.
Feminine laughter and a throaty chuckle.
The jingle of keys.
"One second, let me — oh."
In the months since she'd moved in, Annabeth had overheard her fair share of nighttime noises in the hallways of her apartment building. Nothing truly outrageous, but when she was alone on late weekend nights, the echoes of laughter and other sounds would be enough to inspire a sharp stab of jealousy, to remind her just how long it'd been since she'd had someone in her bed.
She wasn't going to be lonely, jealous Annabeth tonight.
Tonight, she was the one with a handsome man pressed against her apartment door, kissing him like there was no time left in the world. She gotten what — who she wanted, and he was everything she deserved.
Annabeth's keys dangled, forgotten from her right hand as she fisted the front of Percy's cotton shirt, pulling him deeper into her kiss. Triumph flowed through her veins, nearly as intoxicating as the sweet haze of whiskey that had settled over her.
She hadn't allowed herself to feel this way in such a long time. None of the men she'd been with in the years after the war had inspired such an erotically electric response in her. She'd avoided it, actually, convinced from her previous experiences that unrestrained passion only led to trouble.
This didn't feel like trouble, though.
Percy didn't feel like trouble.
"You are going to invite me in, aren't you?" he teased, his mouth moving from her lips to scatter kisses on her face. "I don't think either of us want another video making headlines tomorrow morning."
"Maybe if you'd stop distracting me," she said, gasping as his tongue traced lightly over the scratch on her cheek — the one he'd given her. Her whole body shuddered with desire. "I — I could get the damn door unlocked."
Percy's lips left her abruptly and he pulled back, tipping his head against her door. He stared at her, his half-lidded eyes glittering with amusement and lust, a slight smirk pulling at his kiss swollen mouth. He was the sexiest man she'd ever seen… and he hadn't even taken any clothes off.
"Is that what you want? For me to stop?"
It was a question with double meaning — both a dirty tease and a request for her continued consent.
His hands were still on her, burning trails of sensation across her skin, but it wasn't his touch that caused a new, pulsing ache of arousal between her legs. She had the most powerful man in New Rome pinned before her, with his own graffitied symbol at his back, and he was asking for her permission. She was in control.
It wouldn't take much effort on his part to change that, she'd knew. She'd experienced his physical strength firsthand. But he'd let her take what she wanted from him so far. This encounter was going to happen on her terms… the way she needed it to.
"Gods, no," she replied, surging up for another searing kiss. "That's the last thing I want."
She started to fumble with her keys again, a new sense of urgency taking over her. The sooner she got the door open, the sooner she could have Percy naked and deep inside of her. He did his best to inspire speediness, settling a hand at the clasp of her jeans, running his thumb teasingly over the smooth metal button.
Her key slid into her lock at the same moment he slipped the button free, and she gasped his name (in want? In warning?) as she twisted the doorknob. Percy let out as a surprised grunt as the door fell upon under his weight, stumbling and dragging them both into the apartment.
Annabeth kicked the door closed behind her, laughing when he tripped over the heels she'd left strewn about the hallway and let go of her. Her apartment was dark, save for the light she'd left on above the oven, and seemed even smaller now that Percy was inside, taking up space that couldn't be spared. She felt a brief pang of self-consciousness; he was undoubtedly used to smoother encounters in more luxurious locations (she'd left dirty dishes in the sink, for Zeus's sake) with prettier women. But he didn't even bother with a cursory look around — he only had eyes for her.
Those eyes swept over her again and then darkened with want as they locked on her unbuttoned shorts. In that moment, she was sure they shared the same sinful thought — of her zipper coming down and Percy's hand sliding inside, finding her wet and hot for him; of a flushed Annabeth, head thrown back against the door, letting his fingers take her apart. Her cunt throbbed at the very thought.
However, when he moved toward her, Annabeth pressed a halting hand to his chest. She wanted him, yes, but she wasn't willing to sacrifice the control she had in this encounter. Yet.
"Take your shirt off," she demanded.
He arched an eyebrow, but reached behind his back anyway, pulling his shirt over his head. Annabeth swallowed heavily as each inch of his tan, sculpted torso was revealed. She'd seen her fair share of gorgeous men, but Percy Jackson was… something else.
Every part of him was powerfully built, from his broad chest to his tapered waist and flat stomach. Dark hair trailed between the planes of his abs before it disappeared down the tempting front his jeans. The bronzed expanse of his skin was occasionally interrupted by white scars of all shapes and sizes — a particularly large, nasty looking one cutting across his hip caught her attention briefly — but they didn't detract from his physique in the slightest.
He'd been hiding tattoos under his shirt, too. She'd expected his legion tattoo (a dark blue trident, naturally) but the black waves encircling his bicep and cascading up his shoulder were a welcome surprise.
"Better?" he asked, tossing the shirt aside. He ran a hand through his hair, rumpling it further, and that, somehow, was Annabeth's breaking point.
She hooked her fingers in his belt loops and drew him toward her. His breath hitched as her hands began exploring his body — fingers curiously tracing the ridges of his abs, smoothing up to his chest, thumbs flickering over his flat brown nipples. A groan tore from his throat and Annabeth grasped the hair at the back of his neck, pulling his head down so she could claim his mouth once more.
It was a rough, insistent kiss, one of passionate possession and little else. The intensity of it made Annabeth dizzy and achingly breathless. Their mouths met over and over again, drawing out pleasure with their lips, teeth, and tongue. This man, the son of Neptune, was hers and she made sure he knew it.
She'd forgotten that he wouldn't let her win without putting up a fight.
Percy's hands moved from her hips to her backside, causing her to gasp into his mouth when he roughly groped her ass. She barely had time to register that his fingers had slipped under the hem of her shorts before he lifted her off her feet, carrying her over to the couch. He dropped her on to the top ridge, her legs dangling over the couch's backside. It was a precarious position — she couldn't lean back without losing her balance and one wrong move would send her sliding down the other side. That, undoubtedly, was what he wanted.
He pressed a hand to the small of her back and yanked her toward him; her legs bracketed his waist on instinct and, gods, there was his erection, right against her center. He rocked into her and Annabeth whimpered.
"My turn to be demanding," he husked, green eyes ablaze in the dim light.
Annabeth sucked in a sharp breath, a bone deep shiver running down her spine. She hadn't allowed herself to let go with other men. Giving into Percy, even for a short while, would be a gamble, but she was curious how he would handle the opportunity. If he could handle her.
She dug her nails into the back of his neck. "You can try."
Percy chuckled, dipping his head to kiss the corner of her jaw. It was a far gentler touch than she'd expected and, despite herself, she blushed.
He tugged at the hem of her shirt, and she let go so he could pull it off, leaving her clad in a scandalously thin white bralette. Annabeth was proud of her body, of her own scars and muscles, and she let him take his fill of her. His gaze swept up from her toned stomach, lingering on her breasts, causing her nipples to pebble under the lace, before he looked into her eyes again.
"Fuck, you're gorgeous."
She reached up and pulled her hair loose from its ponytail, shaking it across her shoulders. "I know."
Percy laughed again as he kissed her, worrying her bottom lip with his teeth. "You ever not an arrogant graecus?"
"No. I told you I wouldn't…" Annabeth faltered briefly when he cupped her breasts, bringing them together and brushing her nipples with his thumbs. She dug her fingers into the couch cushions when he did it with more pressure a second time. "Wouldn't make things easy for…"
She let her words trail off into a moan when he pinched her right nipple between his thumb and forefinger, giving it light tug. Her breasts felt hot and heavy in his hands, the delicious ache between her thighs edging toward unbearable. Unconsciously, she tightened her legs around his waist and rocked against him, seeking what relief she could.
"I dunno… you seem pretty easy right now," he rumbled, breath hot against her neck as he sucked at her skin. "Easy and eager, with my hands all over your pretty tits. You're so damn sensitive."
Annabeth flushed, wanting to be annoyed with his smugness, but it was so hard to feel anything but overwhelming arousal… especially once he lowered his head and latched his mouth to the tip of her breast. She threw back her head, crying out as his tongue sucked and licked at one nipple while his fingers played and pulled with the other; the rasp and friction from the lace of her bra only added to the sharp waves of pleasure coursing through her.
"I could spend all night playing with you… make you come from just this."
His dirty talk wasn't an arrogant boast; she was shockingly close to an orgasm and she hated him for it. She'd never gotten so aroused from such little foreplay in her life. If he got his hands on her bare flesh, she'd be a goner.
He unclasped her bra, letting it fall open in the front, and glanced up, gaze dark. He didn't touch her, but goosebumps broke out all over her as his breath fanned the valley of her breasts.
"Do you want that, Annabeth?"
She swallowed a heaving breath and shook her head. "I don't want to come yet."
"No?"
If she let go now, if she broke the charged tension between them, Annabeth was afraid she'd come to her senses and put a stop to this pleasurable madness. Her sensible side could stay buried under whiskey and lust for a little while longer.
"No," she repeated, framing his face in her hands and dropping a kiss on his mouth. "I'm not going to come until your cock is inside me. Understand?"
For the briefest second, she wondered if she'd been too bold with him. She'd never made demands like this with her previous partners; it'd just been easier to take what pleasure she could get from on her own terms. She'd always worried about being too intimidating, about not being normal enough for her mortal lovers. None of them had wanted to deal with her bossy nature outside the bedroom, so why would they want to inside?
Percy liked bossy, if the way he surged up and proceeded to devour her mouth was any indication. Gods, this man could kiss, and — oh, his hands were on her breasts again, fuck —
Instead of a husky moan, Annabeth found herself letting out a startled squeak as as her ass slipped down the front of the couch, pulling her away from Percy. Distracted as she was, she'd forgotten about keeping a tight grip around his hips to keep her balance. Percy adjusted quickly, banding an arm around her waist and lifting her up again.
"Bedroom's the door on the right," she said breathlessly. Her breasts were pressed flush against his hard, muscular chest, one of his hands was slipping down the back of her shorts, and she needed him to be naked now now now.
She shrugged her bra off as he carried her down the hall and into her bedroom, setting her down on the floor beside her bed. Annabeth immediately reached for his belt buckle, but Percy swatted her hands away, crowding her until the back of her knees hit her mattress and she fell back onto the bed. She pushed herself up on her elbows as he reached for her hips and (finally) pulled her shorts off, leaving her in just her underwear.
He leaned over, planting a hand on the bed beside her. His eyes held that undefinable wildness again, tinged with a greedy, possessive edge that made her instinctively spread her legs for him, craving his touch now more than ever.
"Gorgeous girl," he murmured, pressing his lips to the underside of her jaw. Between her legs, his palm pressed roughly over the soaked crotch of her underwear — once, twice, again and again. "This all for me?"
He moved her underwear aside, letting out a pleased rumble when he ran his fingers over her slick flesh; he leisurely worked a thick finger inside her and she bit her lip, holding back a needy moan, her fingers grasping at the sheets.
"Don't get shy now," he teased, eyes roaming over her hungrily. He pressed a rough kiss to the corner of her mouth. "I want to hear you… Is this all for me?"
This time, he pushed two fingers inside her, the delectable stretch just barely satisfying the heavy ache in her cunt. She rolled her hips in time with his fingers as they slid back and forth, a little more a tease, and then they curled, pressing up — up —
"Annabeth?" Percy prompted over her sharp cry.
"Yes," she gasped, falling back on to the bed as he continued to work that oh so sensitive spot inside her. "Yes, it's for you!"
She could practically feel his smirk, as if he was branding it into her skin. "Good girl."
If his fingers hadn't been driving her insane, if he hadn't started kissing and licking his way down her chest and over her stomach, if she hadn't been so overwhelmed by the heat and pressure and desire building inside her — well, she might've had something to say about that. She'd let him get away with it this once, if only because she couldn't bear the thought of interrupting him… especially now that his mouth was level with the band of her underwear.
Annabeth very nearly whined in disappointment when his fingers left her so he could pull her underwear down her legs; he propped one leg over his shoulder, spreading her wide and fully baring her to his gaze. He glanced up briefly, eyebrow quirked in question, but Annabeth was already threading her hand through his dark hair and tugging him down to her damp curls.
She had always understood, on the academic level, the appeal of a man going down on her, but any previous practical experience had left her bored and wanting — like it was a chore both she and her partner had to unenthusiastically endure before the main event.
Chore was clearly not a word Percy Jackson associated with eating pussy.
She shivered as he nipped gently at the soft skin of her inner thighs before he settled in, licking a long stripe over the folds of her cunt. His pleased, muffled groan vibrated through her and he licked her again. He briefly circled her entrance with his tongue before his mouth moved up to lap at her swollen clit and his fingers returned to thrusting inside her.
"Fuck. Fuck," she said, tightening her grip on his hair. Sweat slicked her flushed body as her thighs clenched and trembled, hips rolling with the thrust of his fingers. He had built the wet heat into a blistering crescendo and she was slipping toward the edge. "Right there, right… oh, gods!"
She was there — and then, abruptly, she wasn't.
Percy pulled his hands and mouth away from her, leaving her on the brink of an earth shattering orgasm. It took Annabeth a moment to realize what he'd done; she immediately tried to push his head back into place but he moved out of her reach, letting her leg slip down his shoulder.
"Why… why did you stop?" she panted, betrayed.
Shakily, she pushed herself up off the bed; the sight of Percy kneeling between her legs — hair mussed, chin glistening with her slickness, pants shoved partway down his hips, thick cock freed — was like a punch to the gut. A sharp bolt of unfulfilled lust raced through her and a needy whimper escaped her lips. Percy pressed a kiss to the inside of her knee, his eyes dancing.
"You said you weren't going to come without my cock inside you."
"I — yes, but — I mean — "
He trailed a hand over his hip and down to the base of his erection. Annabeth nearly swallowed her tongue, flushing violently as she watched him slowly stroke himself.
"That is what you wanted, right?" He kissed the inside of her other leg, a few inches higher up but still far away from where so wanted his mouth, and arched a dark eyebrow. "Or have you changed your mind?"
It was almost infuriating how calm Percy was. Annabeth was so aroused that she could barely think straight, let alone remember some stupid boast she'd made earlier. If anything, him stopping had made her burn even hotter. Her skin itched with pent up need.
"Stop playing games," she said, hooking her legs over his shoulders again. She nudged him forward with her heels against his back. "I want you. Please."
For a moment, she thought he might keep teasing her. But that soft little please that did him in, a shudder rolling through him as it slipped from her lips. He pinned her hands to the bed on either side of her thighs and melted into her, mouth returning to her cunt with devoted intent.
He watched her with feverish eyes as she squirmed, trying to get free of his hold, each swirl his tongue over her clit weakening her resolve. Annabeth had never found it necessary to beg her previous partners, but as Percy drove her to new heights of pleasure, she found desperate words slipping from lips.
"Make me come," she gasped, grinding herself against him. "I'm so, so, so close… Percy, please!"
His mouth sealed over her clit, pulling hard, and Annabeth cried out as her orgasm crashed into her, wave after wave of intense pleasure leaving her breathless and trembling. Gods, it was so good. He was so good.
Percy pulled his mouth away from her with an obscene smack, loosening his grip on her hands, and kissed his way up her body to her mouth.
"You're delicious… and so fucking pretty when I make you come," he rumbled. His pupils were blown so wide that only a thin ring of green remained. "You're all nice and slick for me. Should we see how good you are at taking my cock now?"
Annabeth nodded, dazed. "Condoms… in the drawer."
As he searched the top drawer of her nightstand, Annabeth tried to compose herself as quickly as possible. Once they'd stumbled into her bedroom, she'd lost whatever control she'd had earlier in their encounter — maybe she'd never really had it to begin with. It… it wasn't a bad thing, necessarily. But she wanted to remind the son of Neptune that she wasn't his plaything.
She got off the bed as Percy turned to her, foil packet in hand, and placed her hands on his hips, pushing his pants and underwear the rest of the way down his thick thighs. He kicked off his shoes and socks, stepping out of his pants, leaving him gloriously naked.
Annabeth took the condom from him and pressed close, wrapping a hand around his engorged cock, moving it up and down his length with slow, experimental strokes. She waited until she drew a heavy groan from him to roll the condom on and then —
Then she shoved him back on to her bed and straddled his waist, sinking onto his cock in one swift motion that made him curse her name. She took a breath, marveling for a brief moment on how well he stretched her (fuck, she was so full and tight and this was perfect), before she started to grind down on him roughly. His hands settled on her ass as she kissed him, biting at his bottom lip until she tasted the faintest hint of copper. Percy groaned into her mouth.
"I'm not," she murmured, pulling back and staring into his glazed green eyes, "your good girl. Understand?"
She didn't give him an opportunity to distract her with another smartass remark, pushing him onto his back and pinning him to her mattress with a hand on his shoulder. She used him as her anchor, taking his cock deep and hard with each vicious roll of her hips. His fingers dug into her ass, encouraging her; she would have new bruises from him when this was over, something that thrilled a darker side of her.
Annabeth's hair spilled over her shoulder as she rode him and she closed her eyes, savoring the way he felt inside of her — hot, hard, and so thick. Another orgasm was already building inside her, somehow even more intense than the first, and she needed it so bad.
Percy's hand wrapped in her curls and gave it a sharp tug; she let out a startled gasp as pleasure burst through her. Her eyes snapped open, finding his.
"That's it. Take what you need, Annabeth," he panted gruffly, free hand sliding between her legs. "You can have it; you can have everything."
His thumb pressed against her clit and Annabeth broke apart with a wail, her body going taut and losing the rhythm. Percy took over for her, pumping up into her with powerful, desperate thrusts that prolonged her orgasm, making her to whimper and curse from the overwhelming pleasure.
"Percy," she gasped, digging her nails into his shoulder. He thrust up once more and then, with a ragged groan, came to a shuddering finish deep inside her.
Annabeth braced her trembling arms on his pecs, heart pounding heavily against her chest as she tried to control her breathing. Beads of sweat rolled down the valley of her breasts and every part of her burned from exertion, from utter relief, from delight — from —
Unexpectedly, she burst into giggles, rolling off of Percy and flopping onto the bed. She threw an arm over her eyes, allowing her giggles to grow into full-throated laughter.
The bed creaked as Percy shifted beside her and sat up. "That bad, huh?"
Still laughing, she peaked out from under her arm at him. Whatever heavy energy he'd been carrying around earlier in the night was gone, replaced by a lazy, rumpled satisfaction that made her blush in delight. He didn't appear offended by her laughter — in fact, it seemed to amuse him.
Knowing her luck, Annabeth was probably the first woman to laugh at the mighty son of Neptune's efforts in bed.
"It — you were incredible," she said as her giggles died down. "It's just… I was thinking about how everything today has felt so out of control and insane. Everything but this. Which might be the most ridiculous part of it all, considering our backgrounds and how… how... "
She trailed off as Percy leaned over her, a deliciously intent expression on his face, and wrapped an arm around her waist.
"If you're still able to think like that, I don't think I did as incredible of a job as you said I did," he said, kissing her so deeply that Annabeth's toes curled. "Should I try again?"
Good gods. She thought he'd wrung every last bit of pleasure out of her, but her body's electric response to his question proved otherwise. He still wanted to be hers .
She could oblige him… at least for a few more hours.
Curling her fingers into his hair, she pressed her lips against his ear and whispered, "Best two out of three, Jackson?"
It was easier than admitting that she wanted to be his for just as long, after all.
For the second time in as many days, Annabeth woke to a ringing cell phone.
By time she'd even registered the noise, it'd stopped, so she curled deeper into her blankets, ready to fall right back to sleep.
Except the phone started ringing again, vibrating insistently on her bedroom's wooden floor. She cracked an eye open, glancing at the clock on her nightstand. It was 2:40 a.m. She groaned into her pillow; she'd just fallen asleep a few hours ago.
She was content to ignore the phone no matter how many times it rang, she was that exhausted, but the man in bed next to her apparently couldn't.
Letting out a muffled curse, Percy shifted and slid halfway off to bed to reach his jeans and fish his phone out of the pocket.
"This better be good," he grumbled in greeting, leaning back against the headboard. The sheets pooled around his waist and Annabeth allowed herself to sleepily admire his moonlit profile, barely listening to his conversation. "And this is my problem instead of the praetorian guard's, why? They'll wear themselves out eventually… I understand that, but…"
He paused, listening to the person on the other end, and then let out an irritated sigh. "Fine, fine… I'll be there as soon as I can. Try to keep them under control until then."
He hung up and tossed his phone on the bed beside him. He ran a hand through his hair, staring at it contemplatively, and for a moment, it appeared he would settle back in bed, despite what he'd told the late night caller. Then he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up.
Percy was leaving. A pang of disappointment hit her at this realization, and she quickly shoved it aside, embarrassed at her foolishness.
What was there to be disappointed about? Of course he was leaving. That's what happened after a hook-up. And that's what tonight had been — for both of them. Nothing had changed just because it had been the most spectacular sex of her life.
Well, maybe she wouldn't mind if he stuck around for more of that, but… she'd already let him linger longer than any of her previous one night stands. Not that she'd expected him to actually stay anf sleep with her when she'd invited him in, but Percy Jackson was full of surprises.
It was time he left, before she found a reason to break more rules for him.
Briefly, she considered pretending to still be asleep while he snuck out, but decided she owed him better than that. Besides, she was curious. What was important enough to drag the son of Neptune out of bed this early in the morning?
"Skipping out?" she asked, wrapping her sheets around her chest before she sat up. She propped her elbow on her knees, watching with interest as Percy bent over and pulled his pants up. Even in the semi-darkness of her room, she could see a hint of the scratch marks she'd left on his back; she flushed, pleased with herself. "I thought we agreed to three rounds."
"Duty calls," he said dryly, turning back toward her. He still hadn't buttoned his jeans and, gods, he somehow looked even better like this than when he was naked. It was unfair. "Trust me, I'd rather stay here."
"If you say so," she said in a light, disbelieving tone. "I didn't take Romans for quitters."
Why was she goading him? She wanted him to leave… did she? Yes, of course she did, but…
But she also wanted him to come back.
Percy's eyes narrowed and knelt on the bed, leaning over to kiss her, long and purposefully slow. Annabeth tried to curl her fingers in his hair, to keep him with her, but he lightly grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand away.
"You're lucky I need to go," he murmured, touching her swollen bottom lip with his thumb. "Otherwise I'd make you regret calling me a quitter."
Annabeth's body flooded with impossible heat at the retaliatory promise in his words. She bit her lip sharply as an image of herself, bent over Percy's knees, ass high in the air, poised for a spanking, flashed through her mind.
Good gods.
He wouldn't — no, she wouldn't — she'd never wanted anything like that before. She clenched her sheets tighter to her body, as if that could erase the renewed wetness between her thighs. Clearly, she wasn't as opposed to idea as she thought.
Sweet Athena, she was in trouble. Hopelessly and recklessly in trouble.
"I guess you'll just have to come back and prove it then."
Percy chuckled, pulling away from her. He rounded the bed, heading toward the bedroom door. "I like you, Chase. Have I told you that yet?"
Annabeth blushed again. "Is that a yes?"
He ignored her, walking out of her room without an answer. She supposed that was her cue to come after him, begging for his promise to grace her bed once more, but she'd do no such thing. She'd seen the way Percy's shoulders had tensed, how his eyes had dilated with lust when she'd made her request; he'd be back.
"Why do you need to leave, anyway?" she tried again, turning on her bedside lamp. She got out of bed, her muscles aching sweetly in protest, and walked over to her dresser.
"Security issue. Something's brewing up on Temple Hill."
Annabeth frowned, pulling on a pair of sleep shorts and an oversized T-shirt. "A monster attack?"
"Nah. Just some drunk idiots getting out of hand," he said, stepping back into her room. He'd recovered his shirt from the hallway and properly fastened his jeans. Damn. "The Senate wants me there before it develops into a full-blown riot."
"That doesn't sound like something worth dragging you out of bed for."
"You'd think so," he said dryly, sitting on her bed and reaching for his shoes. "But I'm more effective than a lot of their other methods. People are suddenly way less interested in rioting when the mighty son of Neptune shows up and snarls at them for a bit."
She nearly smiled, remembering a similar comment she'd made. "Shocking."
"Gotta keep up my reputation for being a scary bastard somehow, I guess." Percy finished with his shoes and glanced over at her. His eyes narrowed when he noticed she'd gotten dressed. "You're not coming with me."
"Of course not. I don't even have a bra on." Annabeth rolled her eyes, reaching up to pull her hair into a knot on the top of her head. "I'm just going to walk you out. And then I'm going back to sleep."
He stood. "Don't trust me to leave on my own?"
"Maybe." That was a concern. She may have slept with him, but she didn't like the idea of Percy wandering around her apartment building unaccompanied. "Or maybe I'm just being a good hostess."
The last thing she would admit was that she wanted to spend a few more minutes with him. Being with Percy had allowed her to forget her problems and the demons of her past for a few hours, to experience moments of unadulterated bliss without guilt. He understood her in ways she'd thought no one else would. Once he left and the morning came, she wouldn't be able to hide from the world and its judgement much longer.
Annabeth followed Percy out of her bedroom, slipping on a pair of shoes by the front door and picking her keys up from where she'd thrown them earlier. He opened the door for her and paused, waiting for her to lock up. Then, he frowned, noticing the trident graffiti on her door for the first time.
"It was there when I got home this afternoon," Annabeth said as he reached out to touch the paint. "Does it mean something?"
Percy was silent for a moment before he dropped his arm and turned away. "Some of my… fans can be a bit overzealous when it comes warning off my 'enemies.' The graffiti is probably their handiwork."
She'd figured as much. "Your official fan club is totally getting the bill for this, just so you know."
Her joke landed flat, failing to crack through the serious expression that had fallen over Percy's face.
"You need to find a place with better security," he said, brow furrowing as he surveyed the hallway. Embarrassed heat crept up the back of Annabeth's neck. He probably hadn't had the time to notice the water stained ceiling, missing chunks of plaster, and frayed carpet when she'd brought him through the first time. "Whoever did it got to you to easily. I don't like that."
She bristled at his presumption. Any fondness she'd developed for him would disappear very quickly if this was how he was going to treat her now, as if seeing her naked had given him any real connection to her.
"Well, good thing that's not your concern."
"Annabeth — "
She held up a hand as they started down the stairs. "Just… don't. We slept together. That's it. That doesn't mean you get to be the authority on how I live my life."
"That's not what I… " Percy let out a frustrated huff from behind her. "Look. Your life is going to change — rapidly. Graffiti will be the least of your problems in a few days. You shouldn't stay here if you have safer options."
"I can take care of myself. Or do I need to demonstrate that to you again?"
"Are you always this stubborn?"
"That depends. Are you always this big of an asshole?"
Of course that was what drew the chuckle out of him. He caught up to her on the landing, touching her elbow gently; she pulled it out of his reach and crossed her arms over her chest, reluctantly turning toward him to hear him out.
"I'm not questioning your abilities; you're perfectly capable of defending yourself. But if someone catches you on an off day or they outnumber you? That's it, it's over," he said. "People are going to take advantage of your vulnerabilities and they're going to do it often. They're going to try and hurt you. It's not fun, but it's entirely avoidable."
"Speaking from experience?"
"Like you said, I can be an asshole. It gets me in trouble every now and then." He shoved his hands in his pockets. "All I'm saying is that you deserve a place to live where you're sure you'll be safe, at least until things cool down. Right now, your apartment isn't that place."
Annabeth knew he was right, but she didn't have to like it. The moment she'd stepped into that arena, her life had started to change. The changes were going to come faster and more violently now. When the sun rose over New Rome in a few hours, her privacy would officially be gone, her reputation compromised, and her sins illuminated for the entire world to see.
Few would be as understanding as Percy been about her history. She would inherit Luke's old enemies, the people hurt by his actions and wanting revenge. She had a target on her back now and it would only grow larger the more people learned about her.
Percy had given her a few more hours of normalcy, of pretending she could keep living her life as a forgotten child of the gods instead of a great and glorious heroine. Once he was gone, she'd have to face reality.
"Fine," she sighed. "I'll consider it."
"Good."
She nodded and they continued down the last flight of stairs, silence falling between them as she mulled his words and what would be waiting for her in the morning. Whether she wanted to or not, she needed to be ready for it and that meant setting aside her pride and fear.
Percy's phone trilled again as they reached the bottom stair and he cursed, reaching into his pocket to silence it. "Damn it, I'm coming… hasn't even been 10 minutes…"
"Does this happen often?" she said, frowning as she was again reminded why they'd gotten out of bed at this godsforsaken hour. She'd been in New Rome for several months, but couldn't recall if she'd heard anything about riots in the news during that time.
He shrugged, pushing the main door open with his shoulders. "Festivals and war game after parties are usually when things get out of hand — we do love our bacchanals, after all. Riots are rarer. They haven't had anything to get riled up about in a while."
New Rome's balmy night air flowed over her as they walked outside and down the stoop. It was quieter at night here than in Manhattan, but the city still had soft, perpetual buzz of urban energy and motion. A car passed, the strains of music flowing out the open window; a group of drunks shouted and laughed at the opposite end of the street; the echo of sirens wailed somewhere in the distance.
But as they walked down the street, Annabeth found couldn't admire the nighttime ambiance. Percy's words had caused a heavy, helpless feeling to settled in her chest. Something to get riled up about; something recent and earth shattering.
Her.
"This one's about me, isn't it?" she asked, turning toward him. "The riot?"
"Maybe. I don't know." She glared at him. "I don't. But if I had to guess? Yes."
Gods, she was an idiot. She should've considered this possibility. Of course the truth about the death of Kronos would unsettle people, especially in demigod communities. Jupiter was the most revered of New Rome's gods; they all adored Jason, practically to the point of deification. To find out he was a liar, to discover the honor of being the Hero of Olympus truly belonged to the daughter of their least favorite goddess… well, that was bound to upset a few people.
Sweet Athena, she hoped Jason and Piper were safe. This was such a mess.
Her mess.
She balled her hands into fists, the helpless frustration growing inside her. What was she supposed to do? What could she do? She was exhausted and aching, hardly in top form. She just wanted to go home and sleep.
"Fuck," she said, taking a small step back, her mind whirling. "I should — "
"What you're going to do is stay put."
She froze, startled by Percy's command; there was no mistaking it for anything other than that. His voice resonated with the deep authority of someone who always got their way, who didn't take insubordination lightly.
Somewhere in the last few moments, she realized, the man from the arena had made a reappearance — casually powerful and dangerous, like a wave swelling before it came crashing down on the beach. The ease of which Percy could pull on this persona was almost frightening… but Annabeth was too caught up swelling indignation and fear to deal with that at the moment.
"Didn't we just — you can't tell me what to — "
"You're a civilian; I'm a security specialist for the Legion… so, technically, I can," he said matter-of-factly. "Besides, if you are the problem, showing up there will just make things worse. You're their target and they'll do anything they can to get to you. You know that, right?"
It was basic logic and security strategy; of course she knew that. But the dark, destructive part of her psyche that slithered out in her weakest moments didn't care about logic. The sickening sensation in her gut told her she was responsible for this anger, for unsettling reality, and she should have to pay for it. Maybe if she made them all bleed it out, if she proved herself in the streets with sweat and skill, she'd be absolved. Maybe…
Percy's fingertips brushed over her bare collarbone as his hand settled on her shoulder. She thought the fervency of his gaze might drown her.
"This isn't your problem, Annabeth. These are my people, my city. I'll take care of it."
I'll take care of you.
He didn't speak the sentiment out loud, but Annabeth understood it all the same. It was enough to make her soften — just a bit. Her foolish heart was wandering into dangerous territory here, threatening the promise to keep Percy far away. But… how long had it been since someone had offered to take care of her, no strings attached? Too long, if it'd ever happened at all.
When the man offering was strong enough to follow through, what was the harm in allowing it to happen... just this once?
She let out a shuddering breath, running a hand over her face. He was right. She shouldn't get involved, no matter how guilty she felt. There were no monsters or villains to fight, no world ending battle to throw herself into. It was just some morons who would've used any excuse to drink and destroy property; tonight, they just happened to pick her. Without Percy in her bed, she likely wouldn't have even heard about disturbance until morning.
The decision was out of her hands. Reluctantly, she gave in. "All right. I'll stay. You go be the hero."
Percy snorted, amusement briefly softening the serious edges of his mouth. "That's giving me way too much credit."
"But when it's over," Annabeth continued, balling a hand into the front of his shirt and pulling him close. She bounced up on her toes, tilting her mouth toward his, "I want you to come back here. To me."
"And if I don't?"
She pressed the barest of kisses to his mouth, a tease and a reminder of what she offered him. Headlights washed over them as a car passed, illuminating the unmistakable hunger in his eyes just long enough to make her regret not lingering longer, to make her jittery with desire.
"Then I guess that's your loss," she said, letting go of his shirt. "Good night, Percy."
Annabeth turned away, muffling a laugh as he cursed wicked daughters of Athena under his breath. She wasn't the only one who could be undone with the simplest touch, it seemed.
Relief settled over her as she walked back to her apartment and she snuck a glance over her shoulder, hoping she'd maybe get one last look at him for the night. Percy hadn't lingered, though, and had disappeared around the corner. She wasn't sure if he'd even brought a car with him tonight; they'd walked back from the Eagle earlier, bodies thrumming with the urge to touch and kiss each other wherever they could — an urge they'd spectacularly failed at ignoring.
She allowed herself a small smile, savoring the aching contentment that filled her as the memories of the night washed over her. Considering how her day had started, things really could've ended a lot worse than…
The sound of a bottle breaking and drunken male laughter roughly snapped her back to the present.
Four men stood, staggered, on the stoop of her apartment building, a half-empty six pack perched on the stone railing. One of them stood at the door, jiggling the handle and swearing profusely, while the others laughed and teased him. It wasn't a scene any woman wanted to come across by herself in the dead of night.
The hairs on the back of Annabeth's neck stood up. She told herself that she was being paranoid, that they'd likely just gotten themselves locked out after a night of drinking, but that didn't help, not with Percy's warning still fresh in her mind.
People are going to take advantage of your vulnerabilities and they're going to do it often.
The man at the door turned to his friends, the wall lanterns properly highlighting his face, and she stopped short, stunned.
Spencer.
What in Zeus's name was he doing here, at this time of night? How did he know where she lived? She'd never told him her address, not even in her early days at her fellowship when she thought he might have at least one decent bone in his body. She'd gone drinking with her co-workers at the Eagle once or twice; had she let it slip then? What if he had looked it up in her personnel file? Why would he…
Spencer's eyes darted away from his friends, landing on her, and a delightfully cruel smirk lit up his face. A chill settled over Annabeth at the sight of it.
They're going to try and hurt you.
"Well, lookie here! We don't have to get inside after all," he called, words slurred. He pointed and three other eager, wolfish sets of eyes landed on her. "Hey Annabeth."
Instinctively, she reached for her knife and, with an unpleasant jolt, realized that she'd left it up in her apartment. Shit.
"You always take a walk this late at night?" He sauntered down the steps, his friends following a step or two behind him. Annabeth eyed the golden sword gleaming on his hip warily.
"Spencer," she grit out, willing herself to keep her voice even. "What do you want?"
"Funny story. My buddies here — " Spencer jabbed a thumb at the men gathering behind him " — didn't believe me when I told 'em my bitch co-worker was supposed to be the Titan Killer. Not that I believe it either. A shitty daughter of Minerva? Doing that?" He shook his head, chuckling. "Nah. So we… we came to see just how strong you actually are, Chase."
She sized up the other men as best she could without taking her attention away from Spencer, calculating her options. He was the shortest of the four, all of whom looked like they were still in good physical shape, beer belly paunch aside. She couldn't tell if any of them besides Spencer had weapons; worse, she didn't know if any of them were demigods and had supernatural abilities she should worry about.
Shit shit shit.
"You boys all First Cohort alumni too?" In response to her question, the bald man next to Spencer spit on the ground near her feet. She grimaced. "Charming."
He sneered, taking a step forward. "I thought she said she'd ruin you if you fought her, Spence?"
Spencer nodded smugly. "Yeah. She did."
The tallest of the men chugged the last of his beer and then hurled the bottle at her head. Annabeth dodged it, heart pounding, and it shattered on the pavement behind her. "Look at 'er. She's a fucking liar."
In a fair fight, Annabeth knew she could defeat Spencer and his friends. But fairness wasn't on their minds now — humiliation and revenge were. They'd come at her all at once and they'd fight dirty. Her odds weren't great in a fight like that. She might be more skilled and her opponents drunk, but she was outnumbered, with no weapons or armor, and was drained, physically and emotionally, from the day's previous events. She was in no shape for a knock down, drag out street fight.
She could try to defuse the situation, but she doubted anything would distract Spencer and the other goons from their goal. He'd come to punish her for embarrassing him at work, for being bolder than him, and he wouldn't leave without doing just that. Running, too, was an option but her pride refused to give these men the satisfaction of chasing her away.
She held back a shudder, swallowing down her nerves. Gods, this was going to be bad.
"I'm not fighting going to fight you. Any of you. Go home, Spencer."
The other men hooted with mocking laughter as Spencer's sneer twisted with fury, the grip on his sword shifting. "Why? You're not scared, are you, Titan Killer?"
Anger, not fear, was what burned bright and hot inside her as she stared at her co-worker. He'd planned to ambush her in the dead of night with plenty of backup and she was the coward now? She didn't have to prove herself to anyone, let alone this man.
"Because you're not worth my time."
The quiet dismissiveness in her voice seemed to almost stun Spencer momentarily and Annabeth arched an eyebrow, daring him to contradict her. His scowl slammed back into place and he hefted his sword up and charged toward her with a bellow.
He swung the sword at her head, but Annabeth was ready for it, sidestepping him and grabbing his elbow and wrist, forcefully driving the blade down. She yanked hard on the hilt, breaking his grip, and drove an elbow up into his stomach; she drove him back and leaving her with the sword in hand.
The other men stopped laughing and Spencer stared at her in disbelief, wheezing from the blow to midsection. Annabeth pointed the sword at the group and lifted her chin.
"Like I said," she said grimly. "Now leave before I — "
Spencer lunged at her, aiming to get his sword back, but she danced out of his way, avoiding his swinging fist and trapping it by her side. She whirled, using her momentum to send him flying into the garbage cans near the stoop with a clatter. The racket might be enough to wake some neighbors and get a call into police, but Annabeth knew she couldn't count on anyone but herself to end this now.
Baldy was already advancing on her with a sword of his own and Annabeth blocked his strike, wincing at the power behind it. They traded blow after blow, Annabeth's growing sloppier with each one she managed to fend off. Spencer's sword was longer and heavier than she preferred, slowing her down; her arms already ached from the effort. She backed off and Baldy followed, opening himself up for a kick to the chest the caused him to stagger back.
Panting, Annabeth spotted movement out of the corner of her eye; she ducked, but not enough to avoid a fist clipping her in the temple. She stumbled, dazed, and barely managed lifted her arm in time to block another bruising punch. Then, Baldy was back in the mix, kicking the sword out of her hand, and slamming her into one of the other men.
A thick arm wrapped around her throat, yanking her back into the man's chest and cutting off her air. Annabeth stomped on his foot and reared up, snapping her head back into his face, hearing the satisfying crunch of bone as his nose broke. He howled with pain, his grip loosening, but another one was on her before she could totally break free, driving a fist into her stomach with enough force to make her see stars.
A solid push sent her to her knees, her flesh scraping along the pavement; a hand grabbed her ponytail, yanking her head back. Annabeth dug her fingernails into the man's wrist, but that only made him pull harder, until she cried out, her back bowing painfully under the pressure.
Fuck.
The last hit had driven the very breath out of her, taking the rest of her energy with it. She fought to push past the pain radiating from her abdomen and back, racing to think of an escape. She could get out of this. She had to....
The man holding her forced her head forward, so she could see how the others had surrounded her. Spencer stood in front of her once more, his sword back in hand and a small trickle of blood running from the corner of his mouth.
She was a daughter of Athena, damn it — she never stayed caught for long.
"Touch me," she snarled between pants. "And you're dead, asshole."
Her comment stirred another round of dark laughter from the group, causing her skin to prickle with primal alarm. Beside Spencer, Baldy pulled his phone out from his pocket and pointed it in her direction; the flash flared, momentarily blinding her.
"You're not position to be giving us orders, oh great Titan Killer," Spencer said, layering the title with heavy sarcasm. He raised his sword. "You wouldn't stand a chance against Kronos. I beat you while I was drunk."
"Your didn't — "
Her words were swallowed by a gasp of pain as the point of his sword dug into her cheek and dragged across her skin, reopening and deepening the fading scratch there.
"You're a lying graecus bitch and I proved it," he continued, pointing the bloody tip under her chin and tilting her head up. He leaned closer to her, lowering his voice to a taunting hiss. "I am worth your time now, Annabeth?"
The earth seemed to tremble with Annabeth's fury.
No, wait — it actually was trembling.
Baldy and the man with the broken nose exchanged a glance. Spencer frowned. "What..."
An awful squelching noise split the air. Something warm and wet hit Annabeth's face as Spencer jerked upright with a sharp groan. Her gaze dropped to his stomach and she let out a strangled gasp at the sight — a celestial bronze blade protruded from his flesh, a dark stain of blood already spreading from the wound and across his shirt.
"Holy fuck!"
Her head jerked as the man holding her let go. Annabeth fell on to her ass and scrambled backward, away from the men and gruesome sight before her. Spencer gurgled in pain as the sword swiftly withdrew from his torso, blood burbling out of his mouth. He stumbled forward and then fell, face smashing into the pavement where she'd been only moments earlier. Numbly, she stared at his body, at all the blood, and then whipped her gaze toward her savior — Percy.
The man in front of her barely resembled the Percy she knew. This man was an avenging god, every line of him writ with unforgiving violence and cruelty that strained to be unleashed on the mortal world. He was terrifying, a nightmare that'd crawled from the depths of Tartarus.
This was the devil of New Rome… the true form of the son of Neptune.
"Take your… friend and get out of my sight," Percy said, directing his tempest-filled gaze at the three other men; one them was muttering desperate prayers in Latin under his breath, "before I change my mind about letting the rest of you go."
On the ground, Spencer whimpered, but his friends made no move to help him; one of them was muttering prayers to the gods in Latin under his breath. Percy glowered, his gaze darting to Baldy and then down to his trembling hand, still clutching his cell phone. Bronze flashed in the streetlight and the man screamed as his hand was severed from his body.
Oh gods. Oh gods.
"GO!"
A flurry of motion and noise erupted around Annabeth — painful sobs and moaning; metal scrapping on pavement; a body being hefted out of sight and away. Someone knocked into her as they ran past, but she didn't react. She couldn't react. Dread froze her in place.
What was he?
He turned to her once the others had fled, his features softening slightly, and stepped closer. "Are you okay?"
She stared at him uncomprehendingly. Was she… was she okay? How could he ask her that, after what she'd just seen? After what he'd done?
She been attacked by a co-worker. His blood was now splattered on her face and pooled on the pavement inches from her; he was probably going to die, if he hadn't already. Someone had lost a limb.
And he wanted to know if she was okay?
"No," she said, unable to keep the quaver out of her voice. "No, I'm not."
He held out a hand to help her up. "Can you stand? I know a healer who can help."
Her gaze fell on Riptide, hanging loose from his other hand. Thick, dark blood dripped from the blade onto the pavement. Her stomach churned as a siren wailed nearby.
"Why… why did you do that?"
"You were in trouble. I had to help."
"Not like that," she snapped, ignoring his outstretched hand as she struggled to her feet. Her side ached from the blows she'd received, but her chest hurt worst of all — as if something had been wrenched loose inside her. "He could die."
Percy's eyes darkened. "And? He assaulted you. Probably planned on doing worse. He got what was coming to him. Don't tell me you wouldn't have done the same."
"No. No. I had him disarmed. I was going to knock him out, not… not skewer him!"
There was a nearly hysterical edge to her voice. She was trembling everywhere now — but whether it was from the shock beginning to settle in or her growing fear of the man in front of her, she couldn't tell. She took a step back.
"And that plan worked out so well for you, on your knees and at their mercy," he snarled, swallowing up that distance to loom over her. "You don't have to play fair for them. Those bastards owe you their lives, their futures — everything. They're nothing, and if you think I'd like them disrespect you like this in my city without doing something — "
"I didn't do it so people would owe me!" she screamed, the words tearing her throat raw. "I never — I don't want to be worshipped. I'm better than that!"
Percy's frosty gaze reminded her of the way the Atlantic Ocean looked when a nor'easter rolled through in the depths of winter, pitiless and brutal. A force of nature that didn't have to care about the pain it caused others.
"Well, I'm not."
Only a few hours ago, she'd been tangled up in bed with this man, letting his hands and mouth roam all over her. She'd told him her darkest secrets, exposed herself emotionally and physically. What had she been thinking? She'd been told what he was; he'd told her himself.
Gods, she'd known and she'd done it anyway.
She was still the foolish little girl she'd always been.
"Pretty good act you have going on," she said, swallowing the thick emotion in her voice. The corners of her eyes stung. "Nearly had me. But this is the real you, isn't it, Percy Jackson? Not the man from the bar. This."
She gestured to the blood spattered pavement and his stained sword, the savagery in the darkness. His shoulders tensed, but he said nothing, letting his silence speak for itself. He had no excuses and she would not give him one.
"Just… go," she spat, stumbling back up the stoop's stairs. "And forget what I said about coming back."