Chapter 1
The first time I almost killed someone with lightning, I was twelve. The second time, I was thirteen. The third time, I was pretty sure it was technically someone else’s fault. So, honestly, I didn’t think almost electrocuting Damon was going to be a big deal.
“Winter.”
I looked up.
Damon was standing across the training arena, sword hanging loosely from one hand. His black shirt was torn at the shoulder. There was dirt on his cheek, blood on his knuckles, and that stupid expression on his face.
The one that always made me want to either kiss him or punch him. Sometimes both.
“What?” I asked.
“You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
“Staring.”
“I wasn’t staring.”
“You’ve been staring at me for thirty seconds.”
“I was thinking.”
“About me?”
“No.”
He raised an eyebrow.
I smiled sweetly.
“Mostly about how much I hate you.”
“Right.”
He walked toward me.
I hated when he did that. Not because I was scared of him. Because I wasn’t. It was just that Damon had this annoying habit of getting too close, like personal space was a concept invented for everyone except him.
He stopped directly in front of me.
“You’re supposed to be training.”
“I am training.”
“You’ve been holding the same sword for ten minutes.”
I glanced down. He was right.
“Maybe I’m training my grip.”
“Impressive.”
“Thank you.”
“That wasn’t a compliment.”
“I chose to take it as one.”
His mouth twitched. There. That tiny almost-smile.
I loved that smile. Unfortunately.
Damon glanced around the arena. Most of the campers had already left for dinner. A few were still cleaning weapons near the far end, but nobody was paying attention to us.
Good. Because if anyone saw Damon standing this close to me, we’d never hear the end of it. Especially the Ares kids. Especially Clarisse. Especially anyone from my cabin.
A daughter of Zeus dating a son of Hades? Yeah. Totally normal. Nothing suspicious about that.
I lowered my voice.
“You’re bleeding.”
He looked at his knuckles.
“Oh.”
“Oh?”
“It’s fine.”
“You’re literally bleeding.”
“I’ve had worse.”
“You always say that.”
“Because it’s usually true.”
I reached for his hand. He let me. That was the thing about Damon. For everyone else, he was difficult. Cold. Sometimes downright terrifying. With me, he just... let me.
I wiped the blood away with the edge of my sleeve. He watched me quietly.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
“You’re staring now.”
“I wasn’t staring.”
I looked up at him. He smiled.
“You’re terrible at this.”
“At what?”
“Lying.”
I rolled my eyes and let go of his hand.
“Fine, let’s actually spar,” I muttered, stepping back and raising my blade. “Show me what you were doing with that stance.”
Damon’s eyes darkened with a sudden, playful challenge. He closed the distance instantly, his sword clashing against mine with a sharp, ringing echo that bounced off the stone walls.
“Footwork, Winter,” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave as we locked blades, his face inches from mine. “You’re leaving your left side wide open.”
“I can handle my left side,” I snapped, pivoting to sweep my leg behind his ankle.
He caught my movement before I could even blink. With a quick, effortless twist of his wrist, he batted my sword aside, sending it clattering across the dirt. Before I could reach for another, his arms came around me from behind, trapping me flush against his chest.
I gasped, instantly struggling against him, trying to twist away while a thrill of heat shot straight up my spine.
“Cheater,” I hissed, my hands flying to grip his forearms as I tried to shove him off.
“Smart,” Damon corrected, his breath ghosting hot against my ear.
Instead of pinning me further, his hands slid slowly down from my waist to cup my thighs, lifting me effortlessly so my feet left the ground. A breathless sound slipped past my lips, half-protest, half-gasp, as he anchored me tight against his body.
“Damon—stop, someone’s going to—ah—”
I cut off abruptly as his lips brushed against the sensitive skin right beneath my ear, a slow, deliberate trail of heat that made my knees weaken entirely.
“There’s no one here,” he murmured against my neck, his teeth grazing my skin just enough to make me shiver violently, my fingers tangling helplessly into the fabric of his shoulders instead of pushing him away.
“You’re impossible,” I breathed out, my head falling back against his shoulder as his lips moved up my jawline, claiming every inch with a hungry, possessive sort of desperation.
“I know,” he whispered, finally setting me back down on my feet, though he didn’t let go of my waist.
His dark eyes burned into mine, fierce and intense, before he leaned down and kissed me properly—deep, slow, and devastatingly thorough, stealing whatever oxygen I had left.
When he finally pulled back, resting his forehead against mine, my chest was heaving.
“Go to dinner,” I whispered, my voice trembling.
“You’re coming?”
“In a minute.”
“Winter.”
“What?”
“You’re doing the thing.”
“What thing?”
“The stubborn thing.”
“I don’t have a stubborn thing.”
He stared at me, a lazy, lopsided smirk playing on his lips.
He sighed. “Fine.”
“Fine.”
Neither of us moved for a second.
Then he pressed one last quick, rough kiss to my lips before stepping back.
“Oh, and Winter?”
“Yeah?”
“Try not to kill anyone before dinner.”
I laughed, catching my breath. “No promises.”
He disappeared through the arena entrance. I waited a few seconds before following. That was our rule. Never leave together. Never arrive together. Never look at each other for too long when people were watching.
It wasn’t because we were ashamed. At least, I wasn’t. It was because some things were safer when they stayed secret. And apparently, dating the son of Hades while being the daughter of Zeus was one of those things.
I picked up my sword from the dirt. Lightning sparked between my fingers.
I frowned at it.
“Seriously?”
The spark disappeared. I sighed.
Then the camp bell rang for dinner. I headed toward the dining pavilion.
I didn’t know it yet, but that was the last normal dinner we’d have for a very long time.
