Chapter 1

I can feel it; hot breath on the back of my neck. My whole body is tense, waiting for its next move. Warm saliva drips down my back and I'm wondering if I can escape it, hoping maybe it will just leave and pursue a new victim, but it isn't going anywhere. It takes deep breaths and begins an aggressive snarl, starting low and becoming increasingly louder in my ear.

If I should try to run, it would certainly catch me and devour me before I could even scream. My heart feels like it is about to beat out of my chest when I find myself turning, facing the beast. I look it straight in the eyes and try to hide the fear that I know it already senses. How could it not? It's portrayed so obviously across my face. I don't try to hide it either. I couldn't even if I wanted to.

Its eyes are human, like many muttations I have seen, but what face do these eyes belong to? Glimmer? Cato? Little Rue? No. It couldn't be. The deep blue eyes I am staring at, the eyes I am beginning to get lost in are familiar, and then it hits me. My stomach begins to tighten as I feel the word coming up my throat and across my tongue.

"Peeta," I whisper.

And the teeth sink into my chest. Everything goes dark and there is only one thing I can think at this moment. I'm dead. I'm dead. I've lost the games. I'm not going back home. I've failed Prim. I've failed Prim. I've failed Prim!

"Prim!" I scream, and I jump from my slumber.

"Katniss! It's okay. I'm here." I hear a male voice say.

I look frighteningly around the room. My heart is racing. I'm drenched in sweat. Where am I?Where am I? And I see him.

"Peeta?" I ask.

I'm looking Peeta Mellark square in the face. I am thoroughly confused for a moment, but then my eyes find his. He reaches out for me, and without hesitation I go into him. Peeta. My husband. Immediately, I begin to sob as I remember the past, the Hunger Games, the war, and the deaths of so many people, including my friends and more importantly, my sister. Even though this has become a regular routine in the Mellark household, the tears keep coming, and I don't try to stop them.

"Prim!" I bawl. "Prim!"

My body is shaking so intensely and I know that with every word I cry, I am in danger of waking the children, Rose and Macin. Naming my daughter was easy, Rose, after Primrose. Until her, I had never loved anyone as much as I did my sister. In fact, I didn't love anyone. Gale was my best friend, but I wouldn't say I loved him. If I had to love anyone other than Prim, he would have been my first pick, but nevertheless I could never grow to the realization of loving him. I couldn't love my mother, even if I wanted to. She left her children to die while she shut herself off from the world, pretending that nothing was happening, thinking that if she ignored reality it would just go away, but eventually, I forgave her for that. I know she was wrong, and I will forever be furious with her for her actions, but the Hunger Games made me realize that I should not live the rest of my life despising her. The day I came home from the games, I made myself be nice to her. I made myself respect her, but I never let myself love her, and I love Peeta with all of my heart now, but that itself took years for me to do.

This first child I held in my hands changed me forever. I looked into her sapphire eyes and at her silky brown curls, and I promised her I would never let anything bad happen to her, though I could not keep the same promise with Prim. Naming the boy was another story. I could not think of the right name for him. We thought of Finn, short for Finnick, and tried to think of a name that symbolizes Thresh and his courage, but didn't succeed. We even almost named him Mitch, after our drunken, but kind-hearted mentor. The names were good, but none of them felt right for the child that was living inside of me.

I could feel that he was going to be strong, like his father, but I could also feel his tiny heartbeat, so delicate. He gave me the warmest, happiest feeling I've ever experienced, so I knew that I had to give him a special name, a name that represents a special person. Cinna. It took months to come up with a name so unique, so beautiful to fit Cinna's personality. I wanted the name to please him, and one day it came to me, as if he whispered it in my ear. Macin. It was so different, yet charming, just like Cinna.

"Shhh," Peeta whispers, trying to comfort me, "It's okay. You're okay."

My head is lying on his chest. He is so warm, and his arms feel so protective as they embrace me. He is stroking my back, trying to make the quivering stop, but he and I both know it won't. We've spent too many nights doing this, trying to calm one another after a nightmare. One day I hope we will not have to do this routinely, but I know we always will. The memories of the Hunger Games will always haunt us. I'm positive, because even Haymitch still has trouble finding sleep.

I can't stop picturing Prim lit up like a candle in the town square of the Capitol, though. How could I? It was the most horrific scene I have ever laid eyes on, and that means a lot considering I've been in two Hunger Games. I'm so tired of these nightmares, mentally and physically. Every night I relive some horrible memory of the Hunger Games or the war or the insanity I faced after killing Coin, but I can't stop it. I can't stop these endless nights where I wake up and have to rack my brain for the painful facts.

But eventually the tears cease, like they do every night, and the shaking has turned into a mild trembling. Peeta kisses my forehead, and I look up at him. Our eyes lock as they have many times before, but even after all of these years, there's something about him staring at me that starts a fire in my body. Katniss, the girl who was on fire, I can imagine Cinna saying.

"Peeta," I start.

"Don't even, Katniss," He interrupts as he strokes my curly locks.

"But, I'm sorry. I can't believe I've done this again," I apologize.

"Listen," he says as he slides from his back to his side, facing me, and pulling me closer, "I'm always going to be here, on the other side of this bed. I'm always going to protect you and comfort you. I'm always going to love you."

"I know," I say softly, and blush as if I'm a teenager again, "And I'm always going to love you."

Peeta smiles, "Then what's there to be sorry about?"

I close my eyes. His words just fan the flames that I have already been feeling, and my body feels scorching. His lips find mine, gently at first, but then more intensely. No matter what the memory or what the nightmare is, Peeta Mellark always makes it better once again. When he was hijacked by the Capitol, I was so worried I would never be able to get him back. It took some time, but eventually he came back to me, piece by piece. He still has his weak spells from the venom, when he too forgets what is going on, but I do for him what he is doing for me now. No matter what the circumstance, I'll never lose the boy with the bread.

His lips are now on my neck and I'm running my fingers through his hair. It's soft and wavy and I find it difficult to keep my hands away from it on nights like these. He drags his lips across my neck and back to my lips, which sends a chill through my body. I have no idea what time it is, but between the nightmares and the comforting, I have a feeling we will not sleep much tonight. We never do.

We kiss more and I hold him tight, not ever wanting to let go; too terrified to let go. He presses his forehead to mine and finds my fingers, entwining them into his. His gaze is down, not looking at anything in particular, just set in a fixed position, but then his eyes find mine once again. Our lips are close, but they aren't touching. I feel the heat of his breath. We stay in this position until I've almost fallen asleep. As I close my eyes, I feel Peeta move to me once again. His face is pressed against mine, hands on my back, and his lips touch my ear.

"Real," he whispers, and he knows I know what this means.

Haymitch was right about one thing, I'll never deserve him.