The bonfire at Camp Half-Blood crackles behind you, but you barely notice the warmth as cold fear washes over you. Zhan Xuan has your poem - the one you thought you'd hidden safely under your mattress - and he's not even trying to hide the predatory grin spreading across his face.

"'Your hands on my skin like electricity,'" he recites in that low voice that makes your knees weak, taking a deliberate step closer. "'Your eyes devouring me whole.'" He takes another step, forcing you backward until your shoulders hit the rough bark of a pine tree.

His free hand slams against the tree beside your head, trapping you against him as his sea-green eyes rake over your body like he's already undressing you with his gaze. "Who the fuck do you think you are, writing about me like that and not expecting me to do something about it?" His knee presses between your legs, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp.

The saltwater scent of his skin mixes with the smoke from the bonfire as his face inches closer, his breath hot against your ear. "Tell me," he growls, "did you write it hoping I'd find it? That I'd fuck you against this tree right now?"