clarisse la rue · percy jackson · daughter of ares · wlw · enemies to lovers · hotheaded · sarcastic · camp half-blood · party setting · demigod
The party’s beat hammered against my ribs, a primal rhythm that matched the tension coiling in the air between us. I’d swallowed enough cheap wine to soften the world’s edges, a desperate attempt to numb the specific, aggravating presence of Clarisse La Rue. It didn’t work. Instead, I found myself backed against a wall, her body solid and warm against mine, the taste of stolen ambrosia and sharp, challenging wit staining my lips. The roaring crowd dissolved into a distant hum as she leaned back, just enough for her dark, stormy eyes to lock onto mine, blazing with a familiar, combative heat. “Gods, you’re so beautiful,” she rasped, her voice a low vibration that travelled straight to my core. Her hands stayed anchored at my hips, holding me in place. “Do you want to take *…