The afternoon sun dipped lower, casting golden shadows across Camp Half-Blood. Percy's arms felt like jelly after Lisa's intense dodging drills. Every muscle ached, but his chest buzzed with a restless energy that refused to quiet.
He sat on a bench by the training arena, sipping cool nectar from a clay cup. Giselle sat beside him, humming softly as she braided tiny white flowers into his damp hair.
"You did well today," she said, fingers weaving with gentle precision.
"Did I?" Percy asked, glancing at her with a small smile. "I got slammed onto the sand like five times."
"Lisa is merciless with newbies," Giselle said, giggling. "But you lasted longer than most."
Her words made him flush. Lasted longer. The phrase sent an involuntary spark of heat through his stomach. He swallowed and looked away, focusing on the horizon where dusk slowly swallowed the camp in purples and orange.
"Tomorrow," she continued, "there's Capture the Flag. It's a big event here."
Percy turned back to her. "Capture the Flag?"
"Mmm," she nodded, her smile playful. "Team battles in the forest at night. Strategies, traps, ambushes. It's... thrilling. Especially for newcomers."
She finished braiding the last flower into his hair and sat back to admire her work. "Perfect. You look like a woodland prince now."
Percy laughed under his breath, feeling lighter despite the day's exhaustion. But that relief didn't last. The moment he stood to leave, his eyes locked onto a figure stepping out of the forge across the path.
Annabeth.
Her grey eyes flicked to him without emotion, though her gaze lingered. She wore tight black shorts today and a simple sports bra, her toned abs shimmering with sweat under the forge's dying embers. She held a freshly hammered bronze blade in her gloved hand, muscles flexing as she dipped it into a barrel of cooling oil. The metallic scent mixed with the smell of her hot skin, wafting across the cooling evening breeze.
Their eyes met. For a heartbeat, the world fell silent around him.
"Hey, newbie," she called out, breaking eye contact first. "Try not to embarrass yourself tomorrow night."
Then she turned and walked away, her blonde ponytail swinging behind her.
"Don't mind her," Giselle whispered softly beside him, her voice tinged with both amusement and caution. "Annabeth's always cold to new campers. But she's watching you. Closely."
"Why?"
"Because," Giselle said, leaning forward to brush a speck of sand from his cheek. Her fingers lingered, tracing lightly along his jawline before she pulled away. "You're different."
Dinner that evening felt more festive than the morning meal. Campers gathered under the torch-lit pavilion, laughing and boasting about their day's training. Platters of roasted meats, cheeses, fruit, and warm bread were passed down the long tables. Percy sat near the end, between Giselle and Lisa.
Lisa leaned back lazily on the bench, her black leather pants creaking softly as she crossed her legs. She drank deep from her goblet before glancing at Percy, her green eyes glittering with playful arrogance.
"You'll be on my team tomorrow," she said.
"I will?"
"Yeah," she smirked. "I want to see if you're worth keeping."
He felt his face grow hot under her stare. Giselle elbowed him softly.
"Eat up," the satyress whispered, her lips brushing his ear. "You'll need your strength."
Dinner slowly melted into singing, music, and dancing around the central fire. Percy sat back, his mind hazy with warmth and the faint sweetness of nectar. He watched the girls dance: strong thighs flexing, arms raised to the stars, hips swaying in hypnotic rhythm. Sweat glistened on their skin in the torchlight, highlighting curves and muscle in ways that made his chest tighten painfully.
His eyes drifted to Annabeth across the fire. She was sitting alone on a stone bench, sharpening a dagger with focused precision. But every now and then, her gaze flicked up to him. Watching. Studying. Judging.
When he caught her eye, she didn't look away this time. Instead, her lips curled into the barest hint of a smirk, and she raised her dagger in a silent toast before going back to her blade.
A chill ran down his spine despite the heat of the flames.
That night in Hermes' cabin, Percy lay awake in his bunk. Around him, the quiet hum of breathing campers filled the darkness. But from a few bunks down came soft, rhythmic sounds again.
At first he tried to block it out. But curiosity burned hotter than embarrassment. Carefully, silently, he turned his head.
Through the narrow gap in the curtains, he saw two shadows. One girl sat straddling another's lap, hips rocking slowly in the dim moonlight. The faint creak of the bunk and their muffled gasps blended with the chirping crickets outside. A hand reached up to cradle the rider's breast, squeezing softly, thumb brushing over a nipple. The rider arched her back, head tipping up toward the ceiling, lips parted in a silent moan.
Percy felt his body react instantly—hard, hot, aching. He pressed his forehead to his pillow, breathing ragged, heart thundering so loud he was sure the entire cabin could hear it.
He closed his eyes, but the image stayed burned behind his eyelids. Their gasps, the rhythm of flesh on flesh, the way the rider's hair cascaded down her back as her movements grew faster—all of it filled him with a raw, electric hunger.
A hunger he didn't understand.A hunger he couldn't control.
And deep within him, something old and powerful stirred in answer. Like the ocean itself shifting in his blood, pulling him under a tide he could neither escape nor resist.