Hey everyone! I know, I know, it's been too long – honestly, I was building this chapter up for so long I was too afraid to write it! Finally I strapped myself down and did drabbles.. then my hand got injured and I couldn't type for 2 weeks.. sooo.. that's what happened there. Anywho, hopefully y'all like it. Thanks for the support guys, it's been amazing, and I hope this doesn't disappoint you... I'm VERY excited for your reaction!
Hit me like a ray of sun,
Burning through my darkest night.
You're the only one that I want,
Think I'm addicted to your light.
Halo; Beyoncé.
LISTEN TO: THE MIGHTY RIO GRANDE BY THIS WILL DESTROY YOU
ANNIE'S POV
His arms were like walls. Like large, impenetrable walls that, whilst I was in their protection, would never allow me to cry, or fall, or even bruise. Walls that could stop the wind flat against their sinew, walls that could dam rivers with their very surface or stop earthquakes with their muscle. And he kept me within them.
His eyes were still closed, golden lids shielding his perfect sea green eyes from the world. I supposed it was only fair. The world could only see such beauty for so many hours of the day. For now, they would be hidden away, like gleaming emeralds buried in the sand. Maybe soon I would be allowed to see them.
Our bodies were still entwined, his arms wrapped around my waist, touching the sacred skin above my hips, making my chest heave and stomach seize with a feeling at once completely foreign and perfectly calming. His chest pressed against mine lightly as it rose and fell with each breath, and I couldn't remember the last time I had found someone's breathing to be so beautiful.
I knew I would have to leave soon. I knew he would have to leave soon. Preparation for the dance began in the earliest hours of the morning, and the hazy pink of the beginnings of the day were already infiltrating the windows. But it wouldn't be me to break this spell. So instead of rousing from this dream and leaving the sanctuary of Finnick's bare arms, I gently closed my eyes, laying my head on his shoulder and taking solace in the beating of his heart.
FINNICK'S POV
Yellow light, a shade which one is only privileged enough to see in the early hours of select mornings, was filtering through silken curtains with, apparently, only one purpose – to illuminate the girl in my arms.
And what a girl she was. I had once thought the light of the moon was the most beautiful lighting she would ever endure, but as the early morning light filtered through the curtains I was inexplicably struck by the brilliance of her everything.
Our bodies were still slightly damp, pressed together with an innocence I wasn't sure I had ever possessed. She was breathing softly, the whispers escaping her mouth tickling my collarbone, alighting a fire on my neck that burst into my every vein and pervaded the air. My calloused fingertips brushed nervously against her soft, pure skin, unsure of their placement. My breathing grew slightly laboured, the urge to bury my face in her sweet-smelling neck growing stronger by the second. I wanted nothing more than to be as close to her as possible; to feel her arms wind round my neck and body press guiltlessly against mine.
Was this what the women at the Capitol felt when they bought me? No, I decided. What they wanted was animalistic and sick. Wrong. They wanted moans, damp sheets, and raw skin. I simply wanted to feel her. Her every curve, every crevasse, every freckle and dimple - I wanted to know her. Not invade her. I wasn't sure how burying myself in her moon-tinted skin would allow me to know her, but somehow it felt as if it would allow me to do just that. I wanted her heart to beat faster, and her breath to all but halt, I wanted to make her dizzy and hazy in all the ways she made me.
Watching her eyelashes dance slightly across her cheek made my heart begin to hammer furiously against my chest. She was waking up.
I couldn't – I couldn't be here. Everything I had just felt, everything I was feeling, would only hurt her. Only hurt me. Denying myself the right to be near her seemed intensely painful and cruel, the idea of ignoring her seemingly impossible; but it was about so much more than me. It was about her.
I had been used to pain for years. But Annie, she was so pure. So wholesome, untainted and utterly lovely that my overused fingertips would surely leave marks on her. Any association with me would mean overwhelming punishment for her – and it would be all my fault. She didn't know about my past, about my late nights with high-paying lovers – and she couldn't. If she did, the illusion between us would be shattered. She was too good for me. I knew that. She didn't know any connection with me would be immediately detected by Snow, who would punish not only me but her as well.
I had made up my mind to leave the bed, tiptoe out the door and stay away far, far away – but at that exact moment her eyelids fluttered open and her faultless green eyes paralyzed me.
Everything, every idea of leaving her or staying away was gone. I was caught, like a fish, in the hook that was her eyes.
We watched each other for seconds that felt like hours.
Her eyelashes flitted several times, brushing her cheeks lightly as her hand grasped onto my shirt tightly.
My heart beat wildly. Surely she could hear it.
Her innocent eyes filled with a slight mischief as she smiled.
"Why are you so wet?"
Laughter bubbled up from my chest, despite the hold I tried to keep on it. Running a hand through my hair, I heard her giggles joining in the chorus of mine. My eyes now faced the sealing, one arm still wrapped around her back and hand lightly resting on my waist. It felt too good to move yet.
"I fought a few sea monsters last night, don't you remember?" I grinned back at her, our smiles so wide it felt – and looked – as if we'd slept with hangers in our mouth.
"You certainly did fight some monsters." She smiled wistfully, and it wasn't hard to guess what she meant. Despite the fact that Annie was constantly smiling, she had some kind of inner sadness that weighed my heart down. It was hard to watch without being affected by it.
"And saved some princesses," I added casually, wondering if the words would have a negative effect on her.
Despite my worries, they didn't seem to bother her at all, and she laughed, the sound ringing throughout the room like the song of a mockingjay.
"You are a prince, Finnick Odair." She bit her lip, her head now resting against my bicep, our faces overwhelmingly close.
I wasn't sure if she could feel the energy between us. The intangible thing that was heating up between our bodies and yelling at me to do something. Anything. So long as it would bring her closer to me. But her gaze flickered, and when it returned to my eyes there was something both frightened and willing in her green orbs that seemed to undulate like the water.
My mouth parted slightly, so very unsure of the world around me – and suddenly there was noise outside the door. Not very much, but enough for my trained ears to pick up. People were beginning to awaken. And judging by the strength of the sunlight infiltrating her windows, preparations for the dance would be soon. Which meant I had to leave. Now.
Her eyes widened, and we jumped out of bed at the exact same time, my arms suddenly cold and unsatisfied with the previous occupant no longer in them.
I straightened out my shirt before running a hand through my cow-licked hair, suddenly very aware of the consequences of being caught leaving Annie's room in the early morning.
I turned to her, forcing myself to look her in the eyes. "I'm sorry." The words were true. I rubbed the back of my neck, her green eyes kind and forgiving. So forgiving… but could she ever know my secrets and look at me in the same way?
I blindly grabbed for the door handle behind me, unwilling to look away from her eyes. "I've got to go now, before everyone wakes up –"
"I understand." She nodded, her smile light and genuine. She wrapped her arms around her midsection uncomfortably, staring at the floor as I jerked the handle down and slowly began to open the door.
"I wish I didn't," I tried to catch her eyes, but they remained forlornly staring at the ground. I began to turn around, but she took a step closer to me, and suddenly we were achingly close again.
"Maybe later we could…" I trailed off, my breathing heavy as I stared down at her, my body alive again with that same strange sensation.
"The dance…" She muttered, her soft voice murmured as she looked into my eyes.
I opened my mouth once again, but a door to my left suddenly creaked open and we froze. Annie's eyes were suddenly large and terrified, searching me for instructions on what to do.
I eyed her with nonchalance, allowing my face to glaze over into the same Capitol-ready look I'd been holding for years. My emotion drained, my eyes picked up their sexual gleam, and I rolled my tongue in my mouth slightly, ready to purr at a moment's notice.
Turns out my years of lying would help me become an actor for the next few minutes. I gave Annie a calm look before turning to the source of the noise, which had been Leif, Wichita and Stark entering through the door that connected D4's tribute wing to the rest of the building.
"Finnick!" Stark's voice was as surprised as her painted blue face. "You're up already?"
The group approached us, Stark startled, Wichita impassive and Leif suspicious. By the curve of his eyebrow and pucker of his lips, I could tell he wasn't buying it.
"I've heard numerous good things about being the early bird," I quipped, my eyebrow raising, a snicker pulling at my lips. "So I decided I'd give it a try. Besides, we all know Annie and Amphitrite need to get to makeup pronto – they're living up to me after all, and that takes work."
I hated every single word that came out of my mouth.
Stark's laugh was senseless and high-pitched, scratching against my eardrums. Wichita, the curvy, silver-skinned stylist of Amphitrite's, bit her lip and eyed me with a playful sensuality. I let my left eyelid slide into a wink, my posture casual and dominant.
"So you just woke up Annie?" Leif eyed me with affected nonchalance. "Not Amphitrite?"
My years of quick-witted deceit would finally pay off. I knew how to lie with ease, not bothering to stutter or sweat.
"Well, yes, she's my tribute after all." I laughed as if his question was ridiculous. "And I just got here." Shrugging, I pointed at the door down the hall, the entrance to Amphitrite's room. "You can get the boy if you'd like."
Leif and I had unconsciously been taking steps towards each other, and despite the age difference between us – he must've had five years on me at least – we were almost exactly the same height and I certainly had more muscle on him.
That, and the fact that I had spent time in an Arena, killing children to save myself, led me to the total lack of intimidation I felt while sizing myself up next to him. He had spent his life sewing fabrics and beads. Some comparison this was.
"Oh no, I'll go get him!" Wichita waved cheerily behind us, Stark following in her steps, babbling about something unimportant.
"Annie," Leif's eyes never wavered from mine. "Go change out of that dress, dearest, it must be awfully uncomfortable to have been in that since last night. When you're done we'll go finish your alterations."
My breath nearly caught. The dress. More evidence – and Leif knew it.
I heard Annie's feet pad away into the room softly, and I shifted my position to block him from the door.
"Whatever it is you're doing," His voice was low and dangerous, his dark eyes flashing. "It needs to stop now."
"I have no idea what you're talking about." My words were quick, with no consideration coming before their release. He looked me up and down, but I remained unmoving. When his gaze returned to meet mine they held unadulterated disgust.
"She's too good for you," His growl was guttural and quiet, but I picked up the words nonetheless.
God, doesn't he know I know that? No, of course he doesn't. He sees what I've portrayed for the past five years; he sees what he wants to see.
He moved to take a step to the left, but I caught his arm before he could walk away. Our eyes met once more.
"I know that," I bore into his eyes with words I couldn't speak. There was more I wanted to say; but I wasn't sure how or even if I could. The look he gave me didn't leave room for much more discussion, and neither did Annie reappearing in the door-frame.
She eyed us cautiously, a smile wavering, unsure, on her pink lips, as she stepped between us. "Well, I suppose we should go now, huh Leif?"
She sent a rolling browse in my direction, a silent question I wasn't sure how to answer.
"Yeah, we probably should." He smiled tightly in her general direction, gesturing down the hall. "Ladies first."
She smiled back at him before returning her gaze to me. "G'bye Finnick," She smiled, her words more permanent and her smile smaller than I would have liked.
"I'll see you later, Annie." I assured her, waving a hand as she turned down the hall. Turning my back to the girl with the frightening eyes had a horrible sense of uneasiness to it, and no matter how I shook my head as I wandered down the hall, it wouldn't go away.
I suddenly found myself wondering about a magician's secrets.
ANNIE'S POV
My heart fluttered rapidly, my fingers grasping impatiently at the material of my dress as the minutes ticked by.
"Leif," My voice rang throughout the cold metal room, and in the reverberations I could hear the desperation that was laced in my tone. "I don't know if I can do this."
My deep breathes were halted by the confines of my dress's bodice, the boning pressing uncomfortably into my side as I exhaled. My hands gripped at the neckline tightly, attempting to free myself from the constraints and breathe freely.
"Yes you can," Leif's voice was nonchalant, and his echoing footsteps alerted me of his impending approach.
I laughed awkwardly, the exiting noise scraping against my throat as Leif began to adjust a loop of tulle at my hip.
"I mean, Finnick told us how much Mariou gushes over you." My breath halted. Finnick's name had received such emphasis in his words, with a tone I wasn't sure could be received as unlike disgust. I kept silent, waiting for Leif to continue, but the pin he held between his teeth stopped any further conversation.
"He's just trying to make me feel better." I bit my lip, wishing I could explain to him the extent of Finnick's care. Last night... he'd been so sweet, holding me in his arms, letting me cry on his shoulder - but whatever strange sense of foreboding rested in me, it wouldn't allow me to share last night's experience with the charming stylist. So I bit at my red-stained lips, thinking if I'd kissed blood they couldn't be any more red.
Leif's face revealed nothing as he worked, but when the tulle was in its proper place, the pin now hidden in the folds of fabric and not in Leif's lips, he rose to his full height and spoke once again.
"Well, even if you mess up you sure look the part. And the sponsors care more about that then performance. " He winked, his large hand squeezing my arm comfortingly. His dark eyes suddenly turned serious, his face falling somberly. "At least for tonight." The smile he gave was a small one, and as he turned from me his eyes remained downcast, never once meeting mine.
At least for tonight. Yes, tonight would be all fake smiles and powdered lies. The Games... that would be something else entirely.
I attempted to smile at Leif's turned back, but the corners of my painted lips trembled until completely collapsing.
I turned to face the mirror, observing myself in the reflective surface. I was so different from the girl that Panem had met at the Opening Ceremonies. The dress was unlike anything I had ever imagined. The entire thing was as white and frothy as sea foam. The tight, strapless bodice hugged me tightly, displaying my pale shoulders and amplified cleavage with a striking sweetheart neckline. My waist was well displayed in the dream-like white cloth before falling out in layers upon layers of tulle. The decorations over the tulle was the most striking part; half-bubbles of shimmering blue-green fabric took up upper half of the skirt, aligned in such a way they were reminiscent of scales, or bubbles from the very ocean itself. I was no longer the dangerous, sensual fish that had caused howls and panting - I was soft, weightless, ethereal. I was the white caps of the waves roaring to shore. This was me; not the creature from before.
"It's missing something."
The skirt swayed around my ankles as I turned abruptly to find Leif watching me with wistful eyes. He reached into his pocket, steps slow and deliberate as he drew nearer to me. I watched his approach from the mirror; his tall, lithe body a shadow over my shoulder.
The object he pulled out was golden and shimmering; and as he carefully placed it on my neck, careful of my artfully constructed hair, the weight it held was surprising.
Leif's smile grew, but despite the size of it there was an indefinable sadness in his eyes. His hands rested on my shoulders, and for a long moment the glare of the lights prevented me from seeing my new accessory.
The light twirled and eventually dwindled, revealing the gold watch Bombay had presented me with only days ago. I felt the air escape my lungs, my lips parting in surprise - her necklace! I'd taken it off for the Opening Ceremonies, I couldn't believe I hadn't thought of it earlier!
"Perfect." Leif exhaled, his cheek nearly pressing into mine.
I turned to him, mouth agape, tears glistening in my eyes. I reached up, fingers trembling in disbelief, and fingered the cold metal jewelry. "I can't believe I forgot about it..." The pendant twinkled and sparkled even more than before, the light flickering off the polished surface at all angles. There was something... different about it.
"It's really beautiful. Just like you, Annie." Leif reached a hand up and brushed a strand of hair out of my voice, his smile soft and his words warm and soothing.
I rolled the clock in my fingers again, eyebrows creasing as I struggled to identify the changes in it.
"There's something off," I whispered, my quivering voice as unsure as my thoughts.
"I, ah, modified it a bit." He chuckled, his gaze flickering from the pendant to my eyes, asking if he could hold it. I nodded, and he reached for the clock.
"So I do apologize for keeping it from you, but I thought maybe I could just spruce it up a bit." I shook my head quickly, laughing lightly in response.
"No, it's beautiful, Leif. Just like everything you make," I smiled up at him and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, turning my attention back to the clock.
He grinned broadly. "I only made a few minor changes to the front, infusing the metal with some of our star powders - that's what makes it almost glow. I redid some of the etchings, made them more prominent. But what you really need to see is the inside." His voice grew excited, and I found my heartbeat increasing with him.
With a soft click, Leif unlatched the pendant's lock and slowly began to lift the top. And once I saw the image that lay before me, my blood fell cold and my heart still. I grasped at the pendant blindly and pulled it closer to my face.
It was the sea.
My lovely, ever-changing, beautiful sea.
Within the confines of the small gold pendant, Leif had managed to create a miniature sea. It wasn't the static etching that had once existed in the same place, but a moving, undulating picture. It was as if I could see directly through the jewellery to the ocean of D4. The sky above it was a cold, stony gray, and the water was choppy and murky; horrible conditions for swimming. But I couldn't have cared less. It was my perfect sea, with its unpredictability and all, right there in the palm of my hand.
My eyes were glassy as I ran a finger over the image. It was flat, and it didn't move as the image did.
"How is this possible?" My voice is hoarse and almost undecipherable, but nonetheless Leif understands me.
"It's a broadcasted image from 4. Whatever the sea does there, the screen will show exactly. Like how the Games are televised. So you can bring it with you wherever you go."
A hand flies to my mouth as I laugh in disbelief, a tear running down my cheek. "It's amazing." And it was. It was home, here, in my palm. A comfort I could take with me till my last seconds in the Games.
"Oh, don't cry darlin'." He wipes at the tear, laughing, before holding his hands behind him in the way he only does when he's nervous. "So you like it?"
I manage to tear my eyes away from the screen.
"I love it."
Even as my arms wind around his neck, all I can think about is how badly I want to show Finnick.
STOP SONG
Heavy perfume and anxiety fills the thick air, further impeding the strangled breathes of the corseted female tributes. Despite Leif's expertise with fabric, my own dress is no exception, and I tug at the hard, shell-like bodice while gulping the little air I can.
Half of us have been crammed into a dark, musky-smelling room filled with little decoration and even less room. The other half is in a presumably identical room on the opposite side of the Capitol's main ballroom, and all twelve of us wait uneasily for the music's lull to cue our entrance.
Two girls behind me titter nervously to each other, and despite their voices I can only identify them as Honesty and Valor. I never bothered to ask them their real names, nor did they ask mine. Thessaly from District 2 - or Fidelity for the next few hours - is somewhere in front of me, although I can't be sure where. The idea of the venomous, angular-faced brunette, slinking around me in the darkness makes me squirm uncomfortably; but I'm immensely glad Vonlea was put in the other room.
There's a slight tap on the door behind us, causing us all to gasp and jump slightly, our lips immediately slamming shut in order to hear our cue. My ears ring from the silence, and I'm sure I can hear my heart pounding against my chest. I wipe my hands quickly against the silk of my garb, grabbing the fabric in bunches.
LISTEN TO: SERPENT DANCE BY ARCANA
Suddenly the upbeat music shifts and my heart seems to momentarily pause, shocked still. An overall intake of breathe is heard from all around me, and before we have another moment to think, the doors are being pushed open, and our miraculously white hands fly up to the beat of exotic flutes and drums.
The spectators around us immediately part ways, at once shocked and awed by our sudden presence. Out of the corner of my eye I see the other half of the girls coming towards us in the same maneuver, Our bodies twisted to face the audience while walking sideways to the center of the ballroom.
Within seconds we arrive at our designated mark, a small, coy smile playing at my lips for their benefit. The people before me are more strange and painted than I had ever imagined, with faces of every shade of pastel possible in their clothes and on their skin.
Several men watch our movements with brazen longing, and I'm suddenly glad for the white mask that covers most of my face, hiding my blush.
As my hips jerk slightly, falling into the well-rehearsed pattern, my nerves flush and my blood seems cool and refreshing in my veins. My body follows the rhythm it knows so well, bending and curving, arms fluttering gracefully.
We begin to move, several girls falling back and shifting until I reach my mark, front and center. My hands rise above my head, clasping together and then wavering slowly. Simultaneously we reach for our cloaks, grasping the silky material and extending it, allowing the rippling cloth to flow and encase us with their movement. The crowd gasps slightly, pleased with the beauty of our movements.
One leg slides out to the point of discomfort, and with deliberate slowness we sink in unison, silk quivering with our movements. We rise suddenly, throwing our heads over our shoulders, drawing our arms out to their full extent, silk flying like a wall as we make a full turn.
The music quickens, and our movements soon increase in speed. My arms are suddenly as free moving and eloquent as water, and they rise up once more before the crowds once again part to make way for the sauntering group of male tributes that approach us.
On cue, Caesar Flickerman's well known voice erupts over the music; but it lacks the vitality and excited quality it usually holds.
"These are the virtues of our world, everything that is good and just."
We bow slightly and begin gesturing to the newest players, the male tributes with slowly waving, beckoning arms and calculated smiles.
"They are as plenty as the crops of the Districts, constant and revered in their glory."
Our District partners approach us, hand outstretched to receive us.
"These are the ladies of virtue," Caesar explains, his voice uncharacteristically somber. "They are Constancy -" Vonlea, Constancy, approaches her partner with languid movements.
"Freedom," The next girl approaches her partner with the same calm grace.
"Fidelity," Thessaly is next, and the audience pays close attention to the introduction of each virtue.
"Honesty,"
"Valor,"
"Purity,"
"Liberty,"
"Peace,"
"Justice,"
"Trust,"
"Repentance,"
"And Beauty."
With exaggerated want and scarce breathe I fling myself into Amphitrite's arms, my face brushing against his neck. We begin to rotate slowly with our partners, Amphitrite's cold blue eyes piercing mine.
"But even virtues can be taken away, through disguised anger and rebellion." Caesar's voice is suddenly mighty, making the room shake with its roar.
LISTEN TO: MIRAZ CROWNED BY HARRY GREGSON-WILLIAMS
I begin to step away from Amphitrite, distrust in my eyes, my lips parted in fear. The eleven other girls do the same, but despite our fear, the boys grabbed at our hands and pulled us back, several startled shrieks rising in the air.
With a genius pull of a string, the boys' outer clothing drops and soon they were a row of menacing, all-black criminals.
With affected drama we all began to shrink back, screaming and attempting to fight off our counterparts. I arched my back, pulling against the restraints of Amphitrite's hands lightly. I sent a wild gaze towards the nearest man in the audience, imploring him to help me.
He turned to his wife next to him, nodding and pointing in my direction. If acting was what got me sponsors, I would do everything I could.
"And despite their struggles, these wild men of North America locked away this goodness in their rebellion, and held them captive!"
The backdrop curtain falls to reveal a massive three-dimensional castle of stone and brick. My breathe nearly escapes me, my character dropping, until I feel the rush of all twelve girls beside me being herded into the man-made fortress.
Quickly we rush to our designated spots, two girls for every pillar, waving our flags at the audience in mock emergency. I stand next to a smaller girl, a blonde who I'm sure wouldn't have been able to see over the top if not for the wood box set for her to stand on.
Almost half the spectators are fanning themselves furiously, watching the display with ill-concealed enthusiasm.
"These rebels of North America destroyed their country in fury and hate, overthrowing the government and sealing their fate! For years, this darkness lived on."
A trumpet sounded at the other end of the room, and bursting through the large doors of the ballroom came large, muscular men in blinding pure-white attire and masks.
The viewers of this display once again parted, waving and shouting in support of the clearly designated heroes.
"Until the rise of Panem, these glorious white Knights of Righteousness, came to save the Virtues and restore humanity from the rubble."
My masked eyes frantically began to search for Finnick, and almost immediately I felt the heat of penetrating green eyes spotting me from a far. It was him.
He stepped forward, drawing a sword from his side. "Restore the Virtues or perish!" His words rang throughout the room, his melodious voice giving the forced threat meaning.
Several ladies cooed and clapped behind their fans, immediately deciphering his identity despite the mask, gazing at him with unadulterated pleasure.
Adonis from District 1 stepped towards him, pulling out a sword of his own.
"The dark days have only just begun, Panem shall never rise!"
The crowd jeered and booed, meanwhile myself and the little blonde reached out to our heroes exaggeratedly.
The remainder of the Knights of Righteousness pulled out their swords, as did our captors, and with loud cries from both sides they began a calculatedly thrilling battle.
I lost myself in the drama and realistic cries of the clash. The clanging of swords filled my ears, and soon the cries of tributes followed. There was red everywhere; on the floor, on shirts and swords.
My corset suddenly seemed to be growing tighter, and my breath grew short.
Where was Finnick?
My hands gripped at the tower's edges, and I soon lost grip on what was real and what wasn't. My heart pounding right in my ear, the screams of dying boys, of dying Amphitrite chorusing over top. A metallic smell filled my nose and I slammed my teeth together, grinding them to fight myself from screaming Finnick's name.
The remaining Rebels began to scale the towering, their targeted Virtues shrieking as they grasped at their waists and pulled them down. The Knights were right after them, in a much larger number, climbing the fortress with ease to rescue their damsels.
The quickly-constructed prop began to shake under their weight, and the girl next to me began to stumble. Instinctively I reached out for her arm, waiting for her small frame to steady itself with my assistance. She smiled at me gratefully before screaming as a Rebel would his arm around her tiny body and escaped with her. My hand went out after her, as if to steal her from the masked bandit; but as he jumped away and my arm was left in solitude, it was grasped by a large, male hand; and forgetting the pageant I began to pull away with all my strength as it tried to drag me down.
A black mask appeared over the castle's top, and a bloodied face grinned at me ferociously, with eyes all too familiar. It was Adonis; still alive after the mock battle. I began to resist and thrash at his muscular arm, which with its terrifying weight had begun to pull me over the edge. The too far-away floor taunted me, waiting for my small body to break upon impact with it.
Without warning Adonis' weight was gone, the only reminder of his attack the red mark on my wrist. Startled with the sudden freedom, I flew back into the wall, panting. This was all too real. But whatever had freed me from the Rebel's hands would soon be over the wall.
LISTEN TO: LABOR OF LOVE BY MICHAEL GIACCHINO
A large hand suddenly gripped at the tower's top, soon a muscular arm, and with a flash of white and gold, a man was before me. No splashes of false blood tattered his pristine white clothes, and his mask remained intact over his eyes.
Green eyes, with tan skin that glistened like the sun and hair seemingly made of gold. His large arms, the muscles hard and round, soon wound round my waist and pulled me to him. Pressed against his well-muscled flesh, his scent pervading my nostrils, the feeling seemed all too familiar. When the sharp green eyes pierced mine, my mind could only scream one name: Finnick!
"Virtuous Beauty, you are my prisoner now." He murmured, his mouth close to my ear.
He then let his arms drop to my knees, and lifted me so gently and quickly into his arms I had no time or need to cry out. We soon flew out of the castle, agile Finnick bounding through the room unseen, taking me away from the castle and into a dim corridor where burning torches gave the only light.
He soon places me down, so lightly and tenderly I've suddenly forgotten to yell at him for absconding with me in the first place. My back hits the wall, but his follows me, and the feeling of his skin against mine runs across my entire body, through my fingers and veins. The air seems pleasantly warmer, and my head is suddenly fuzzy and dizzying. I look up into the haunting green of his eyes again, and despite their intensity I don't turn away.
"Are you alright?" His voice is soft and surrounding, blowing through my hair and across my cheek like a soft wind. Our masks are soon discarded, watching us lifelessly from the floor.
"Yes," Is the only word that I can utter, my breathe faltering, my mind yielding to the image of Finnick's golden face.
His fingers trace their way up my fingers, and goosebumps follow their trail. My arm is suddenly alighted with a tingling, my joints feel as if they've been lit on fire, my stomach bubbling like overheated water. His face moves almost imperceptibly closer to mine, but I feel that ever-so-slight increase, and my chin tilts towards him, holding a will of its own.
"I - I didn't hurt you, did I?" His voice is so quiet, so questioning, as if the answer that awaits him will prove him a monster.
"No!" The word is fast in its response. "No, Finnick. You could never hurt me." My hands begin to reach cautiously, slowly, to his chest, and I lay them daintily on his body.
His hands slowly fall to my waist, and I imagine I can feel their movement through the thick fabric. My heaving chest presses achingly slowly against his.
"Why did you take me here?" My eyes have grown hazy, sliding half shut as I grew delirious with the pleasure that ran through my body as his hand began to slide up my back and push me towards him.
"I wanted..." His one arm wound completely around my waist. "Somewhere..." My hand wound in the hair at the nape of his neck. "Where I could do this."
And that was when it happened.
Finnick Odair kissed me.
And I kissed him back.
The feeling that rushed over my skin was intense and intimate, beginning with the shivering tips of my fingers and spreading much beyond that, farther and deeper.
My entire body was burning hot, my skin tender and ripe, screaming for his touch. My limbs were almost numb, and despite my body temperature I seemed to shiver. The blood within my scorched, and all rushed to my lips, which were so dangerously entangled with his. He pulled me closer to him, softly, squishing my breasts flat against his chest, but it wasn't enough, and I wanted him closer, closer, closer.
It was as if someone had set a million microscopic minnows in my blood stream, and they all flopped and pressed against my skin, making any kind of goosebumps or passion I'd felt before seem cold and acrid.
His lips were almost indistinguishable from my own, and when they moved I knew where to move and for how long and how soft and everything just flowed. His body knew mine instinctively, and I knew his. The dizzying in my head grew, and I wasn't sure if we'd been kissing for hours, days, or seconds. His kiss was maniacally intoxicating; and I didn't care if it had been 10 seconds or a week. But I planned on staying like this for a long while.
And then footsteps rang in our ears.
A link to Annie's dress (remove the spaces): h t t p : / / f o t o s . f o t o f l e x e r . c o m / b f 6 3 a 7 2 5 f 7 b 1 6 e 9 8 7 6 f 6 f b b 6 3 1 4 3 6 4 8 9 . j p g
OKAY GUYS I MEAN CMON
16 CHAPTERS IN THEY FINALLY KISS. IM SO HAPPY. I HAD THE BEST TIME EVER WRITING THEIR KISS.
Anyway. Freakout over. Well, that was officially the longest chapter yet. I hope it was worth it! If you're going to review any chapter, do THIS ONE. I want to know what you guys feel after reading that! I love reading about your reactions!
All my love!