Chapter Eight

The sun blinded Katniss as she stretched from the best sleep she had in years. Her heart beat like a drum and her body was lighter than a cloud. For a moment, she forgot the events of last night.

She reached to the other side of the bed and saw that the man who had provided her such pleasure was gone from the massive bed that she had been staying in since night one.

A sigh left her as she held tightly to the other pillow that he had laid on. It was hard to distinguish, even more so for her whether or not it was a sigh of regret or sorrow at his abscense.

Katniss spotted a piece of folded paper setting on her nightstand.

She moved over and opened it. It was written in red ink and said:

Mockingjay,

I apologize for my early departure, but affairs of state called me to District 3 and I had no choice but to go. I will be back before 8 tonight.

Yours,

Coriolanus Snow

P. S. I loved last night and cannot wait for more.

Katniss didn't know whether to smile at him having the courtesy to explain his departure or curse him in her head for being a cheeky little bastard.

Either way, his mouth and touch made her need for more. Her toes curled as she felt like her vaginal lips were swelling and the urge to touch herself grew stronger and more urgent every passing second.

Katniss reached her hand down to her lips and inserted a finger inside of herself. She arched against it and rubbed her button with her thumb.

She thrusted into her own touch, pretending it was her fiancè's thick member massaging her walls. She was begging whatever gods would listen to set her free as the fire rose.

"Ms. Everdeen, someone here to see you," an older woman with a face like a vulture and eyes as prying and unsettling as one came in, her voice carrying the same regal air as Snow's.

Katniss growled silently at her interruption and slammed on some clothes.

"It'd better be good,"

But that was quickly changed when the sun shined in rays on her fair-haired sister Primrose.

"PRIM! I was so worried!" Katniss hugged her sister like if she let go, the sprite of a girl would blow away.

"Katniss!" Prim wrapped her tiny arms around her sister. "Look at my new coat," the girl spun around in her mink fur coat proudly.

Katniss laughed at her sister's innocence and sat down along with her. It was good to know that her sister could see something good in this. But then again she was clueless as to what was at stake if Katniss refused.

"Sooo, I've heard you're gonna get married," Prim bumped her sister's shoulder with a grin that almost reached up to her baby blue eyes.

Katniss' eyes widened as she blushed and her fingers fiddled back and fourth. "Oh I um...who told you that?" her entire body went cold as she laughed nervously.

"President Snow. He told me you and him are getting married!" Prim giggled.

"Yeah. Yeah we are..." Katniss looked concerned. Katniss figured he was only being nice to them so that she'd be in even less of a position to refuse his offer.

"So how's school?" Katniss changed the subject as soon as it had been addressed

"I'm going to school with a bunch of the kids from the Capitol. They're a little snooty but that's okay. We're learning how to do math with shapes," the younger girl's grin turned into a look of curious confusion.

"Really? How does that work?" Katniss laughed.

"Well first," Prim pulled a ruler out of her bag and showed Katniss how to do geometry.

By the time eight'o'clock rolled around, both Katniss and her sister were asleep on the huge grey couch made of leather in the parlor.

The door opened as Coriolanus Snow came into his house with his burgundy briefcase and set his hat on the chair. It wasn't the proper thing he was taught as a young man but then again, none of it had registered.

The halls were lined with moving portraits of all of the presidents before him. Starting with the first one Johnathan Wyngarde and ending with his adoptive father Romulus Snow, the one who had, in his words, "so graciously took him on as his own son after such a horrible time"

Snow rolled his eyes at the old man's words of how grateful he should be. May the old man rot in hell for the rest of eternity!

He dramatically pulled the curtain over the crinkled face of the first President Snow, he was a despicable son of a bitch.

The man dressed in a burgundy suit sighed as he looked at his aged face in the mirror. His lips were like that of a fish and no more was the devilishly good-looking man of his youth who was infatuated with women too much for his own good.

"Women, they will be the death of me," he laughed softly to himself.

His mood swings were so frantic and so maddeningly often that he could barely think. One moment he was amused and the next angry and the next indifferent.

"Coriolanus," he heard a soft female voice said.