I own nothing.

She waited.

The bed was soft. The clothes were clean. The food was delicious.

But Katniss Everdeen paid no attention to any of it.

The Victor of the 74th Hunger Games sat alone in a locked room in the middle of the President's Mansion. It was her punishment, Snow had told her. Convince me, he had said long ago. She had to convince him she was in love with her fellow tribute, the boy who escaped the Arena with her. The berries, the berries that had changed their lives, had been seen as an act of defiance against the Capitol, despite her claims that it was love struck madness that fueled her plan.

She hadn't managed to convince the President of her love for Peeta, and for that, she became the property of the Capitol. Snow had the absolute power to do with her as he wished, and she fetched a high price. The Capitol citizens would pay good money to spend the evening with the most talked about Victor since Finnick Odair. Millions were paid by the man who claimed her virginity. But the price dropped each night.

The Girl on Fire was now used goods, and few were willing to shell out the money the President thought he deserved for her. And as the price went down so did the quality of the company. Dirty men and unwashed women came and went from her room each night. Katniss feared for her safety as the weeks and months passed. Seedier patrons meant more twisted urges. Urges that left her with bruised skin and chafed wrists.

Days were spent alone in the room. Servants deposited a breakfast tray before she awoke and cleared it away at lunchtime. Citizens who wanted only her company escorted her through the Capitol, making sure they were photographed with the girl on their arms. Her smiles were rewarded with news from home. Signs of dissidence resulted in being locked up for days without food.

And so she smiled, pretended she loved her life. Her mother and sister were safe, Gale and his family weren't bothered, and Peeta remained unharmed and out of the Capitol's clutches. He had been Snow's original target. Sweet words and a kind smile, he surely would have made his customers much happier than Katniss had. But she refused to let him take the fall for her acts. She was to blame for the nightlock. She was to blame for not loving him well enough. Only she could accept the consequences.

A note had been placed on her nightstand while she slept. When she awoke, her arms and legs were sore, and she refused to stretch to reach it. Nothing good was ever written on the scraps of paper. Orders and ultimatums were all she read and heeded, knowing there was nothing else she could do. With the arrival of lunch and the removal of her uneaten breakfast, Katniss finally pulled herself out of bed and slowly, painfully made her way towards sustenance. Meager rations sat on a silver tray - a small glass of orange juice and a smaller serving of the lamb stew she once loved. A fresh, warm roll was set beside the stew, and she grabbed it and took it back to the bed.

Peeta, she thought as she held it to her nose. There was a time when he had brought her fresh bread everyday, back in her old life in District 12. She had thought so little of it then, but now she wished she had it and him again. Tearing the soft roll in half, she absentmindedly ate as she finally reached for the note.

6:00

Katniss paled. A time but nothing else was written on the small card. There was usually another instruction - wardrobe. Why was there no mention of wardrobe? Whoever bought her for the night either planned to get started right away or humiliate her by parading around her nude form. The Capitol had no laws against public nudity, and more than a few times her most private areas had been on display for all to see.

She had little to do during the day but wait and wonder. Her heart thudded in her chest as the time wound down, nearing the hour when her client would arrive. While she showered, fresh sheets were put on her bed, erasing any signs of the previous night's activities. A small tray of homemade pastry was placed on the table along with a carafe of ice water. The fans in the bathroom took care of her wet hair and body, but she kept a large, fluffy, white towel wrapped around her until it was absolutely necessary to discard it.

Her pounding heart drowned out the ticking of the clock, but her eyes were ever watchful as the hands moved closer and closer to the six and twelve. There was a knock on the door and she tucked the towel beneath the bed before positioning herself in the center. "Come in," she called, hoping she sounded seductive. Instead her voice shook. It always shook when she welcomed in the strangers.

The door opened slowly to reveal tonight's guest. Red cheeks, wavy blond hair, and crystal blue eyes were the first features she saw, and she recognized him instantly. It was the face that filled her best and worst dreams each night.

Peeta Mellark stood in her doorway.

Katniss couldn't help the excitement that bubbled up inside of her. Leaving the bed, she jumped at him, arms around his neck as he fell back against the door he had just closed. "Oh my god, Peeta," she murmured, pressing her lips to his. Despite his initial shock, he wrapped his arms around her and held her flush against his body. But slowly her senses came back to her and she pulled away. "You...you bought me?" she asked, suddenly feeling betrayed by his presence.

Shaking his head, Peeta pulled off his jacket and wrapped it around her. "Well, yeah, I guess in a way I did," he amended as he led her to the bed. "But not for that."

"Because who would love the Capitol's favorite whore," she muttered.

"Me," he replied simply.

She looked up, gray eyes wide as she took in the loving smile he wore. "I've missed you," she told him.

Peeta pulled her to him until she rested comfortably on his lap. His fingers twirled in her long, brown hair. "What if I told you that you didn't have to miss me anymore?" he asked.

Curiosity and confusion lingered in her eyes as she stared at him, searching for the meaning behind his words. "You can't, Peeta," she whispered. "Don't let him make you one of us."

His hand cupped her face, and Katniss turned to inhale the scent of cinnamon and fresh bread that lingered on his skin. No matter how many times a day he showered, that scent remained. "That's not what I meant," he assured her.

"Well, the pockets on your jacket aren't exactly big enough to smuggle me out of here," she retorted.

Laughing, he fingered the jacket's lapel. "Speaking of clothes, why aren't you wearing any?" he inquired, parting the jacket just enough to see a hint of skin between her breasts. "I'm not complaining or anything. It's just curiosity."

Her face reddened and she pulled the jacket closed once more. "I was instructed to wear nothing," she mumbled, hiding behind a curtain of brown hair.

"Snow's a sick bastard," he replied.

"How much did you pay for me?" she asked.

Peeta tipped his head forward and captured her lips in a searing kiss. She gave in, glad to feel the familiar lips against hers and the tongue that slipped into her mouth. His hand rested inside the jacket she wore. Rough, callused hands that held her firmly but lovingly. Her own fingers knotted in the hair at the base of his neck. Fine blond curls that wrapped themselves around her fingers as if they belonged there. His lips moved from hers and traced a path from her jaw to ear to neck. Fingers began to work the buttons on his shirt as she laid back and brought him with her.

"Wait," he said huskily just as she finished undoing his shirt.

"Katniss's brows furrowed as she removed the jacket. "What?" she wondered.

"This...we shouldn't," he murmured, despite the fact that his body told otherwise.

She sat back up and pushed his shirt off his shoulders. "What do you think people who pay for me come up here to do?" she wondered, latching onto his neck.

He held her back. "Stop, Katniss," he ordered.

"But...I...I thought you wanted me," she said, feeling an unfamiliar emotion rise up inside of her - rejection. The men and women who entered her room never rejected her. "You bought me for the night. I thought..."

Peeta shook his head. "Do you love me?" he asked. She nodded. "Say it."

A singular tear slipped down her cheek. "I love you, Peeta," she said, pouring all of her emotion into the words. "I've never loved anyone like I love you."

Leaning forward, he kissed her again. "Then let's go," he murmured against her lips. She pulled back, shock and confusion registering on her face. Had he just wanted to hear her declaration before the evening's activities progressed, or had he meant something else. "Get dressed," he clarified. "We're going home."

"I don't understand," she whispered.

"I bought you," he explained. "Not just for the night. I forfeited my winnings for you."

Katniss moved off the bed, betrayal the only emotion she felt as she distanced herself from the boy who had saved her. "So, now I'm your slave?" she asked. "Some slut whose only purpose in life will be to fuck you whenever you want?"

He too rose from the bed and moved over to her. "No, Snow agreed to one condition and one only," he told her. "That you be my wife. He said we would still be entitled to your winnings and we could stay in the Victor's Village."

"So, I marry you and I can go home?" she asked, her voice meek as she reached for him. Peeta nodded. "And I'll never have to do this, any of this, again?"

"That's the deal. In writing. Signed by Snow himself."

She pressed herself against him as tears continued to fall. "Thank you," she whispered against his ear.