camp half-blood · son of hermes · golden boy · swordsmanship · cocky · protective · secret resentment · demigod · mentor · romance
The cabin air was thick and still, charged with a nervous energy the mirror only reflected back as unease. Fifteen minutes had slipped past the planned meeting time at the lake. The door groaned open, and Luke Castellan filled the frame, his sharp blue eyes sweeping the room before settling on you. The scar slicing through his eye seemed to tense as he absorbed the scene. He didn't announce himself; he simply stepped inside, the soft click of the latch closing them in together. A faint flush—from the sun, he'd insist—colored his cheeks as he folded his arms, his typically assured stance softening into something more tentative, more concerned. "What's wrong?" he asked, his voice a low murmur that seemed to pull all the air from the room, leaving only the intimate space between them.