Chapter Four
"Katniss?" a rich baritone voice called her back to reality.
"Yeah sorry. Zoned out," she breathed heavily, feeling a hand on her shoulder. She realized it was that same hand that haunted her daydreams. Or Daymares more like.
"It's quite alright dear. Happens to the best of us," he laughed, walking me to the entrance of his greenhouse.
"Must not happen to you then," she retorted, following his lead.
"You exist merely to insult me don't you?" Snow contemplated flatly.
"Oh come on, it's good that you have at least one person who doesn't worship the ground you walk on," Katniss smirked
"Very funny. Fortunately for me your mouth will be doing more than yammering on," the bearded man smirked.
"Why roses though?" Katniss changed the subject, still uncomfortable about the idea of their impending wedding night.
"Well you see..." Snow began, only for his expression to change.
"What?" Katniss was beginning to become genuinely intrigued by her foe.
"They are pleasing to the eyes," he snapped defensively, caressing the flowers as his mind drifted to times long gone.
"But enough of that, I would love to hear plenty about my lovely bride," he sat down on the garden chair.
"Not much to say really. I feel like I'm being interviewed by Caesar Flickerman," Katniss laughed.
"That fop of a man? He was always quite annoying wasn't he?" the president chuckled, taking a sip of his wine. "I on the other hand...Am a predator at heart," he growled.
Snow once again gathered Katniss in his death lock of an embrace, inhaling her taste which was a sweet contrast to his own.
She tasted the wine on his lips and her soul set afire as he trailed his hands up and down her back.
When he finally pulled away, she was starstruck as no one had made her before.
Sure Gale and Peeta had kissed her before, but those kisses were sweet and trembling.
But this, this was the kind that brings even the strongest to their knees and made her breathe heavily.
"We play a different game now love. Where I am the hunter and you are the prey," Snow's breathing was laboured as well, obviously giving his all into it.
"Right...I should probably get ready for the opera tonight," she looked at the clock.
"I suppose you're right. Meet me downstairs," he kissed her neck before departing.
HGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGH
Snow straightened his tie and jacket as he looked over the proud city of Panem with pride.
And it all came back to him...
Flashback
The 15th annual Hunger Games was abuzz with chaos. The screams and cries of the children put in this hell, the stench of corpses anywhere from hours to a week old. And blood. So much blood.
A young man whose short platinum blond hair hung over his eyes looked up from the bushes, senses tensing up as he planned his method of attack.
There were three people left in the Hunger Games. Him, a platinum blond girl named Sistine from District 1 and a dark-skinned goddess of a woman from District 11 whose name he had forgotten. Names were pointless at this point. Only survival to the fittest. He had to for his brother and sisters and father.
His ears rung with the sound of the cannon that signified the death of a tribute.
"Only two left," he said softly to himself as the bushes covered him like a shroud. "Mother, forgive me..."
Suddenly a rustling noise from behind caught his attentions as he readied his dagger, the hilt lined with milk-white gems.
He turned around to see the beautiful blond girl standing over him, ready to kill him with her bone knife in hand, a delicacy in Panem. Made from elephant bones before the Dark Days.
Swerving between her legs, he jabbed her calfs with the dagger he held in his hand. It was that moment when he tasted blood for the first time, a habit which would become an addiction later in his life. It gave him a rush that no blowjob could equate!
A feeling of dread crossed him soon after. He had won the games! But he had killed to get there.
He looked at the dead body beneath him and turned paler than the bone knife
"Congratulations Coriolanus MacDonald! You have won the 15th annual Hunger Games!" Alexander Flickerman exclaimed as his son Ceaser giggled.
Even as the helicarriers lifted him up into the air with them, only his maddening heartbeat and raging mind repeating 'I killed someone. I'm a murderer' like a mantra and he let sleep claim him.
End flashback