A/N: Please review and follow/favorite if you like this chapter, then I'll know if I should continue. I'm excited for you guys to read it, I tried to get the right tone going, so hopefully it had the desired effect.

"Don't be afraid of me,

Don't be ashamed.

Walk in the way of my soft resurrection.

I know the roses,

I've counted so,

I know your name.

Lead me to war with your brilliant direction."

Clove was fifteen when she became his. Cato was spending the night with her brother, not having paid the younger girl the slightest bit of attention the few times he had spotted her around the house. That evening, though, something drastically changed. During Cato's dinner with her brother, Clove had scampered down the stairs, her shiny hair bouncing in cascades down her back, and grabbed a book off of the table next to the blonde, giving him a quick smile before curling up on the couch to read. She chewed her lip subconsciously as she read, and he watched her.

He studied her, noticing as she furrowed her brow in confusion, and smiled after a few pages, widening her eyes. She really did have lovely eyes, and he found himself thinking about them. He could look into her eyes all day long, if he had the chance. It was utterly mesmerizing to him, watching her read. He left the table with his friend to venture upstairs, but thoughts of Clove edged their way into his head, making him feel confused and enamored at the same time.

He couldn't fall asleep that night; he was too baffled. What was so fascinating about a girl reading a book? This almost-five-years-younger girl, he had to remind himself, but the reminder couldn't keep her out of his thoughts. Why was he so newly curious about every thought that rested inside her pretty little head? He walked downstairs at exactly 3:52 a.m. with the intention of sitting on the couch, away from his friend's loud snoring, to gather his thoughts about the young girl who had slowly engulfed his brain in a frenzy of confusing thoughts. As he sat on the couch, pondering, he saw the tiny Clover creeping down the stairs. She noticed him too, and gave him the same small smile she had earlier that day. She walked past him to the kitchen sink, filling up a tall glass with water. He tried desperately to keep from watching her, but he couldn't help himself. He peeked at her, his face growing hot as he took in her attire. Her minuscule pajama shorts clearly displayed her pale legs, and her navy blue tank top stopped a good two inches or so above the waistband of said shorts, showing a strip of her bare back. He felt disgusting, admiring the body of his friend's baby sister. He didn't feel like himself. Against his own thoughts and intentions, he got up and walked to the kitchen. Clove turned slightly at the sound of his footsteps, an expression he couldn't read showing on her face.

Clove had seen Cato watching her read, but it surprised her when he followed her into the kitchen. She knew nothing about him, other than his name which she had picked up from overheard conversations between the tall, muscular blonde and her brother. She tried to conceal her nerves as he walked towards her, resulting in an odd smile. She didn't know what she would say if he spoke to her. Her brain went fuzzy and she gasped quietly as she felt him wrap an arm around her waist, quite gently as if he feared breaking her.

"Hello, little one," he murmured, very close to her ear. She shivered involuntarily, her mind buzzing with some sort of electricity she couldn't describe.

"Hello," she managed to whisper, her heart beating rapidly in her chest.

"Your heart's beating quickly," he said quietly. "Are you scared of something?"

"You startled me a little, is all," she said, feeling hazy.

He nodded. "Sorry," he said softly, his thumb brushing over the bare skin left uncovered by her tank top. He felt goosebumps form on her skin and he chuckled quietly. The thought process that led him to do what he did next couldn't be explained, but he took her hand in his own and led her to the couch.

She followed him, feeling as if she were in an odd dream, and didn't say anything as he guided her onto his lap, her legs slung sideways on the couch. He gazed at her, his eyes traveling over her form in its entirety. He held her by the waist with one hand, the other resting on her thigh. They sat in silence for a while, Cato beginning to gently stroke the soft skin exposed by her skimpy top.

"You're fascinating," he said quietly, trying to find the best way to explain to her what he was feeling.

"How so?" she asked, trying unsuccessfully to get her mind back to its usual clear state.

"I'm not sure," he said, shrugging slightly. "I couldn't explain if I tried, so I won't."

She nodded slightly. Perhaps this was some crazy dream, or some sort of hallucination. Her heartbeat quickened once again. She had no idea what was happening, why she was sitting on the lap of this older boy, why he was gently stroking her skin, his fingers drumming on her bare leg. All she knew was that he was capable of making her heart flutter with just his voice, and causing her skin to feel on fire at the slightest touch.

When he pressed his lips to hers, cupping her face in one hand, she fell deep into the rabbit hole. She lost all sense of anything, really, and felt herself spiral very far down inside of some sub-reality much different than she had ever known.

He had kissed her on impulse, feeling an almost painful tug deep inside of his subconscious. He kissed her softly and felt his whole body grow warm at the feeling of her lips. He felt like he had lost himself somewhere beautiful and dangerous. He drew his lips away from hers and stared at her for a long while.

"I should go to bed," she said, not breaking eye contact.

He nodded, picking her up and carrying her swiftly upstairs to her room. He laid her in her bed, feeling an uncomfortable emptiness when she left his arms.

"Sleep well, my Clover," he murmured before slipping out of her room and back to her brother's, his mind spinning.

After that moment, she knew. For a reason that was too bizarre to even begin to wrap her head around, she was absolutely his.