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Annabeth knew it was a mistake. She knew and she didn't care. She knew and she did care but she didn't want to. She was just so tired of pretending she didn't. Because gods, he looked beautiful. He looked like the boy she fell in love with and the man she left. All blonde hair and sharp cheekbones and too bright eyes and glinting danger concealed by his good-boy attitude.
She knows it's a charade. She knows he's got a little animal hidden under his skin. She's felt that animal in the most delicious ways. She's screamed at that animal in all the most horrible ways too. It was the reason he had "ex" attached to boyfriend.
But still, the vodka daquiris she downed had given her a little too much courage. And when she had saddled up to him, flicked open a button on his crisp white shirt, he had looked down at her with that animal peeking it's head and she was done for. Whatever he saw in her he couldn't bear to miss it. He looked as if he needed to taste her before he burned to ash.
Her blood red nails trailed his forearm exposing corded veins, pretty muscle. She carved her name into it and watched as tiny, harmless welts appeared on that gold skin.
"Let's go," She breathed. She didn't have time to sound sultry. She needed him in ways she couldn't begin to articulate.
"Is it a good idea?"
"We have never been a good idea." Her heart had been beating so fast but her gaze was steady, hooded.
New York, she had grinned, as they dragged each other by the clothes through the streets, up to her apartment—it was closer— and into beyond. Door, rough wood, hard press; kitchen counter, cool marble, deep unhurried strokes; leather couch, sticky and too fast, perfect; bed bed bed, silk sheets and endless endless pleasure.
"Love is a beautiful thing," He had whispered, kissing her hair, her cheek, her neck. "So dangerous, but so beautiful." And he had looked at her like she defined each word, like she was the physical form of all his ache.
"Love is destruction," She had moaned, caught up in too much of him. She would always be too caught up.
"It can be both." He bit down on her collarbone and she unleashed her own animal.
Annabeth wakes up alone, knowing she shouldn't have done it. But when she sees Jason Grace she cannot stop herself. They are wolves finally joining their pack. She can't regret it. They are violent in their beauty. They are free.