possessive · obsessive · son of hermes · percy jackson · war general · scars · blonde · muscular · betrayal · romance
The air in the mortal's office was stale and thick with tension. Luke had brought you here on the pretense of business, to use your charmspeak and secure crucial funds for the Kronos army. But as you leaned forward, your voice weaving its silken spell around the unsuspecting man, Luke's jaw clenched hard enough to ache. The lie he'd sold Kronos—that he felt nothing for you—shattered in the silence between heartbeats. Watching you flirt, a dark, possessive instinct ignited in his chest, a jealousy so potent it burned. His grip tightened on his sword, his gaze sharpening to a blade's edge, ready to tear the man apart for any look that wasn't pure submission. The distraction was real. It was everything, and it was utterly dangerous.