Katniss's P.O.V.

We are kneeling alone in the dark in front of a roaring fire.

I'm wearing a candlelight dress, the slips of smooth silk almost jarring on my skin after days of roughspun clothes. Peeta dressed in the most respectable clothes he could find, and I couldn't help but notice that he looked very much like the way he appeared when he was sent away all those years ago. His shoulders are broad.

He's holding the slice of bread in his hand, normally steady fingers shaking. As the fire flickers around the edges, he's supposed to be saying something, making promises. At least, that's what I think is supposed to happen, though I've never paid too much attention to an actual toasting ceremony before. But he's not. He's not saying anything, just gazing at me as if I might disappear. As I see the crust begin to blacken, and the tongues of fire danced around his fingers, I realize what he's doing. He shouldn't even have to toast his piece. He did it already, seven years ago. But before I can stop him from burning himself further, he pulls the burnt bread from the fire.

"I would do this for you every day for the rest of my life, and it would be completely worth it," he whispers, pressing his forehead against mine. "I hope I don't have to, though," he adds conspiratorially. "You'd think I'd be used to burns by now, but my fingers really hurt." I laugh, but the tears running down my face betrays me.

"Is it okay if I just love you every single second of every day for the rest of our lives?" he asks softly.

In response, I hold my own bread into the fire. I want to tell him how much he means to me, how I can't imagine life without him, how he is my best friend in the world. I want to tell him that he is the only other person I've ever known who is as beautiful as Prim was. I want to tell him about the hope he fills me with. But I don't know how to say these things.

Instead, I blurt out, "I love you. I promise to try to be a good wife."

He smiles so brightly the flames pale in comparison, and I know that somehow he's understood.

As he holds the bread to my mouth, I can feel the tremors that run through his entire body. His eyes are bright and clear. I am solid as an oak, but the tears stream down my face in an endless river. I press the bread against his lips and he opens his mouth. I do the same.

It tastes like charcoal and raisins.

It tastes like life.

~ Two Weeks Later~

Peeta's P.O.V.

Katniss and I sit on the couch looking into the fire, her head buried into my chest. I wrap my arms around her and hold her tight.

"I think I should get some stuff from my house, back in 12."

I peel away from her slightly to try and read her face, but she snuggles in deeper as if trying to steal the heat of my body. "Are you sure? It might be hard for you," I say anyway, resting my cheek against her hair.

"People think I'm dead," she explains. "I thought I was going to die when I took Prim's place, but I never thought I was going to get married to the same person who trapped me." She huffs a little laugh that makes me smile, even if a tinge of guilt follows. "I thought Prim and my Mother were just going to get rid of my stuff, or give it to some of the people who aren't as wealthy as us. Now they...... I want some things that I left behind." Her voice quivers just a little bit, enough that my heart aches.

"Okay, I'll come if you want," I say softly.

She shakes her head against my chest. "I think I need to do this alone. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," I say, and rub the strands of her hair from her face. I give her a rueful smile. "Just please be safe. I don't want to have to save you again. But if you do, I'll be there to rescue you," I say and she smiles.

I smile back at her and we lay there, in each other's embrace for who knows how long. It didn't quite matter.

Katniss's P.O.V.

"Okay, bye," I say, and kiss Peeta sweetly.

"Please be safe," he says for about the millionth time, and I have to withhold an eye roll.

"I will," I say and shut the cabin door. I walk through the cool forest clad only in the barest of weaponry, and head towards my so-called home.

The breeze grows stronger and I wrap my jacket tighter around me. The forest almost parts around me, and I can't help my shiver as I see the familiar gates. I spend only a moment pausing there before stepping through them.

I stay away from any people I see, not wanting to risk the chance of recognition. Gale's house comes and goes past me, and an ache rooted deep in my chest arises. However, I stop abruptly when I hear voices coming from the house. Two of them, both male.

"She thinks I'm dead?" one voice says, a familiar huskiness in it making the world fall away around me.

"Yes, and I heard she got married to the Peeta guy," the other voice says, one that I can't say I know. But disbelief wars in me, mingling with fear and well-earned worry.

"What!" the first man yells, too many emotions within it to read. "I-I no! That.... stupid Beast!"

"Gale! Calm down," the other says.

And suddenly it clicks. The voice... Gale. But it can't be...he's dead. I slowly sneak up to the house, trying to not seem too conspicuous. My back scrapes against the wall as I sidle along it quietly, and I look through the window. Gale is standing there with someone else from the Slayer academy, the most lively dead person I have ever met. One clad in thick bandages and a listing walk, talking to people with anger born from someone who has been through death and back.

All thoughts drain from my mind as I run away as fast as I can towards my house. I run in and slam the door closed behind me. My eyes snap shut.

Okay, you just need to get a few things, I say silently, forcing myself to move and breath.

My eyes begin to burn when I walk into my mother's room, her faint scent lingering to every bit of furniture within like a perfume. I sit on her bed and run my hand over her threadbare blanket, my throat almost aching from the unshed tears.

I stand quickly, as if leaving the memories behind before they can swallow me. I walk over to her dresser and tears spill out of my eyes. A small picture of both of them with wide smiles on their faces was on it, small enough to fit in my locket. That must have been what she was getting before.

I pick up the picture and fit it neatly into my locket, smiling a little. I go impossibly still when I hear noises coming from Prim's bedroom. My hand moves without my command and slowly pushes open the door to reveal an ugly orange and white cat.

"What are you doing here?" I ask the cat, knowing that I won't get a response. I pick him up and pet him between the ears, which he surprisingly lets me do. The cat starts purring and I smile. Prim would have loved him.

"What's your name, huh?" I ask the cat. "What about Buttercup? Prim loved those," I say, some unwelcome feeling clutching my chest. I can't leave him here. I have to take him with me.

The cat curls into my arms, but still manages to look at the door almost expectantly. My heart cracks. "She's not gonna come back for you, little guy," I say and rub his head.

His hiss turns into a purr and he rubs his head against my hand. In his long fur, I see a shiny object. I move it away and find a collar and a tag.

Buttercup.

"So you're why Prim got in trouble, huh?" I ask, voice cracking. He meows at me and I sink to the floor. I cry into his fur and hold him close.

He's all I have left of them... Prim... I'm so sorry.

Buttercup struggles out of my arms and walks away. The warmth leaves me cold and bare, and I hug my knees to my chest to try and fill that void. I was too weak to save them. That was my only purpose to do in life. Protect them... Since no one else could and they couldn't. I hear scratching at a door and look up from my legs, my eyes blurred with tears. He's at Prim's door.

"Get away from there! She's gone! She's not ever going to come back!" I yell at him and stand up, a burst of anger burgeoning me.

I step on something solid and I stop. I look down and find my father's scythe. I pick it up and hold it in my hands, looking at it intently.

I could've saved them with this.

But would you be able to kill Gale? a voice questions.

I attach the loop to my belt hook and go to Buttercup, who still claws at the closed door.

"What do you want? She's not in there! Go away already you dumb animal!" I say.

But the stupid cat keeps on meowing helplessly, and I can't help but open the door despite myself. I stop dead. All the memories hit me like a truck. Buttercup jumps on her bed and nestles onto her pillow. Prim's room was neat and orderly, and this cat went and ruined her memory by messing up the pillows. I pick up one of her stuffed animals and throw it, a bristling rage making me scream at him.

"STOP IT YOU CAT! DON'T RUIN ANYTHING! SHE'S DEAD AND NOT GOING TO COME BACK! LEAVE THIS ALONE!" I shriek.

He yowls when it hits him and he jumps off her bed. Disturbing her pillow. I shoo him out by throwing more of her things at him until he leaves. I shrivel when I see I messed it all up when I told him not to, and that anger instantly leaves me. I pick all of her things up and put them in their original place almost reverently, my fingers only pausing when I notice random pieces of paper. I find it to be two envelopes. With her name on one, and the other has mine.

With my father's handwriting.

I pick them up, hands shaking. The one with Prim's name has been opened, but mine is undisturbed. I put them in the bag without looking, unable to look at it. I can feel my anxiety raising each second I am in the room - in this house.

I put everything back and rush out of her room, slamming her door. I grab Buttercup as he is settling into a new spot and only rush through the door.

Peeta. I want Peeta to hold me and remind all was not lost, and that I wasn't alone. He was right...I wasn't ready. I trip over stumps and fall to the ground, each time seemingly harder to get up from. But I make sure Buttercup is okay before wiping my tears and continuing to walk.

~

I walk into the cabin crying and I drop the cat. Peeta instantly stands and comes to my side, all the love and concern I ever needed in his face.

"Hey, what's wrong? What happened?" he asks me, taking me to the couch.

But I can't muster words to explain how everything had gone so wrong without anything actually happening. My soul was bleeding and raw, and I couldn't make myself tear it anymore.

"It's nothing, I...I'm going to go to bed," I say and walk upstairs. Peeta doesn't push it because he knows he won't get an answer. Not yet. I take off my clothes and look in Peeta's drawers to find suitable clothes. I pull Peeta's pillow over to me and inhale his scent. It always calms me.

~

I feel strong arms around me and I open my eyes. It's Peeta.

"Hey," he says and holds me tighter. I sit up and kiss his soft lips. We break away and he moves a piece of my hair from my eyes.

I lay back down and snuggle his arm. He puts his head on top of mine.

"What happened," Peeta asks me.

"I wasn't ready, you were right," I say, but my voice already grows tight.

"Oh. Okay, you wanna talk about it?" I don't answer, not trusting my voice enough. I just shake my head.

"Please?" Peeta begs. I don't answer. Instead, I sit up a face Peeta and he sits up too. I motion for him to lay his head in my lap and he lays down, though with a curious glance. I run my fingers through his hair. He closes his eyes and I lean down and kiss his forehead. We are interrupted by scratching at the door. Peeta sits up and finds Buttercup at the door. He smiles.

"You want some cheese buns?" he asks me. I nod and he walks downstairs.

~

"Like this?" I ask, mashing my fingers into the sticky dough.

Peeta chuckles a little at my sad attempts at baking. "Not quite. You need some flour on your hands so it won't stick so much to your fingers. Look, like this." He reaches for a large pinch of flour from a bowl full of the white powder and rubs it into his hands. He takes another large pinch and sprinkles it over the blob of dough. Then, standing behind me, he reaches around and folds the dough together. His warm breath on the shell of my ear makes my heart flutter, but I just bite my lip and watch his hands knead the dough.

"Now you try," he whispers to me, voice managing to drag sensual fingers down my skin. I take some flour and do the same thing he did, sprinkling it on my hands and the dough. I mash my hands into it trying to replicate what Peeta had done, but I just don't have the same touch that he did with the dough. He snickers over my shoulder and puts his hands on mine, moving my hands so that I was actually making progress kneading the moist mass. "See? You're doing it," he says, a grin plastering on his face.

I turn my head back to look at him, turning in his arms a little even as our noses almost bump. "I guess I'm not a completely hopeless case when it comes to baking then," I say, a small smirk rising to the fore.

"Not with me to teach you," he says cockily.

"Of course," I say, touching his nose with a flour-covered fingertip, leaving a white fingerprint.

He laughs, a bright joyous sound. "Oh, so that's how it's going to be?" He smirks before poking my face with his floury fingers, dragging white lines across my cheek.

Laughing, I turn out of his reach and grab for a handful of four, tossing large pinches at him at a time. He follows suit and snags the whole bag of flour, laughing as he chases me around and throws it in great powdery tufts.

In minutes the kitchen is covered in white and looks as if a bag of flour had exploded. We look around and laugh, clutching our stomachs as we bent over. I put the now nearly empty bowl of flour down on the powdered countertop. He wraps his hands around my waist from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder. "Looks like we have a pretty big mess to clean up," he says, chin bobbing as his breath once more hissed against my ear.

"Mmm...can't we save it for later?"

His voice thrums against my neck. "I guess...if you have something else in mind for us to busy ourselves with right now." I can practically hear the smirk and challenge in his voice, but I only swallow slowly.

"Oh, I can think of a little something," I say, turning around to face him. My core pounds.

"And what would that be?"

"How about..." I reach up and wrap my arms around his neck, planting a kiss on his soft lips, tasting a bit of the flour that was still there. His hands make their way into my hair, and I laugh at the bits of flour that fell into my dark locks.

We broke the kiss and grin at each other.

"Sounds good to me." He smirks and kisses me again.

The kitchen can be cleaned later. For now, we were happy putting flour fingerprints all over each other.

"Maybe something else, too," I say and kiss him again.

I squeal into the kiss as he sweeps me off my feet and carries me to the bedroom. We both laugh as he before he sets me down gently, and we renew our kissing. He starts to take off my flour-covered clothes as we kiss and I do the same to him. He settles atop me, the covers pulled across his broad shoulders.

A shy smile spreads across my lips as I look up at Peeta. He stares right back at me, stroking my hair as if savoring the moment. He collapses at my side, laying on his back with a challenging grin. In an instant, the spark within me reignites and I shift my hips to drape my leg over his. I rest on one elbow and lean over his flushed face to kiss him more deeply than before.

One of my hands trail from his hair and rest on his warm cheek. I begin lessening our kiss, withdrawing my tongue from his lips and pecking him lightly from one corner of his mouth to the other. Peeta relaxes his lips and tilts his head back as my soft kisses brush over his chin and move down his throat. I slowly slide down his body and pepper those feather-light kisses, my hair sweeping lightly over him. As I reach the bottom of his rib cage, I find his hard member sliding along my sternum, and I could've sworn he twitched beneath me.

The wispy blonde hairs leading from his belly button to the tuft of curled hairs between his hips are shining, almost white reflecting the moon and stars. My fingernails drag slowly over his skin while I move my palm from one of his hips, across his lower abdomen to his other hip.

I circle his navel with my tongue, finding that he tastes like a salty combination of sweat and the freshly laundered sheets from the bed we share each night. I can feel his eyes on me and I take comfort in the curtain of hair shielding my face from his. This, too, was something I had never done, and I am thankful for the bit of privacy while I work out the details of how I intend to repay the orgasm he'd just given me.

Peeta props himself up on his elbows, looking down at me. My unusually loose curls are a dark, shining stain spreading over his pale chest. My fingers wrap around his shaft and my tongue slips over the swollen tip of his cock. His eyes flutter closed and his head falls to the side, as if simply enjoying the feel of my mouth on him.

I feel a surge of heat between my legs as I take the head into my mouth and suckle, my tongue pressing firmly against him. Peeta shivers and his hips twitch, trapped beneath my weight. I suck more gently and he lets out a groan and hisses my name. For some reason, hearing his desperate plea sends yet another surge of heat between my legs, and I am again glistening with arousal. I squeeze my fingers around him and stroke tentatively up and down. He mutters incoherently and falls from his elbows to the bed, resting one hand behind his head and the other on the curve of my slight waist.

His fingers tightly grip my skin as I stroke him again, but he sighs and relaxes as I release him from my mouth. He barely has time to complete a long exhale when I am sliding my tongue over him again. I am less hesitant than before, my mouth engulfing him greedily.

I concentrate hard on relaxing the muscles in the back of my throat to accommodate him. It is not until his fingers were brushing over my labia that I realize he was touching me. He skims his hand along my lower back, in a circle around my backside, and rests his warm palm between my thighs. A strangled moan escapes my over-full mouth and I press myself back against him.

I quickly return to my senses, reminding myself that my main focus right now was supposed to be repaying Peeta for the orgasm he'd given me. I return my attention to him, intent on evening the score. I begin moving my mouth up, down, and around him, my hand taking over strokes every now and then to allow my tongue to flit against him in different rhythms and patterns.

Peeta's three middle fingers lazily rub wide circles over my clit as his breathing becomes more rapid. I find it harder to stay concentrated on my own hands and mouth while he steadily stimulates me. In an attempt to distract him from me, I begin to quicken my rhythm. His hand drops to the bed beside me and he draws in a shaky breath, exhaling a low, resonant groan. I eagerly continue, enjoying his total unraveling by my touch. A minute later, Peeta sits up abruptly, startling me.

"What's wrong?" I whisper frantically, my hair whipping around my face as I scan the room in all directions.

"Nothing!" he chuckles. "I was going to... I didn't want to...."

I crouch in front of him, stark naked and staring at him quizzically, but relaxing slightly.

"Nothing's wrong, that was perfect." He smiles at me apologetically and my cheeks flush as I realize what he meant.

My eyes dart away from his and I reach up to wipe the excess saliva from around my mouth with the back of my arm. Peeta extends his arm to me, wrapping it around my waist, and pulls me into a kiss. He exaggeratedly drags his face across mine, as if wiping my mouth clean with his own. The corners of my mouth tug upwards and then my lips purse, desperately trying to withhold the smile I always seem too hesitant to share with him.

Wishing to gloss over this unwelcome return of my inhibitions, Peeta kisses my lips again, more hungrily this time. I respond immediately, my tongue finding his and my arms draping over his shoulders and around his neck. The more contact my skin has with his, the more I want. I gracefully swing my leg over both of his and sit astride his lap. His arms welcome me, entangling them together. My breasts press harder into him with each breath I take as we continue to kiss.

I can feel his heat combining with mine as we rock against one another. Remembering the sweet, pinching feeling of fullness when Peeta puts his finger inside me, I grind my hips harder against him. I feel the muscles in his shoulders ripple as he lifts me off of his lap and slides his hand between our bodies to grasp himself in his hand. He drags the tip of his cock teasingly over my clit, smiling when I gasp and stifle a moan. I tilt my hips forward, encouraging him to continue.

Peeta looks up at me through his long, blonde eyelashes. He freezes and waits for me to regain enough station to open my eyes and look back at him. When I comply, he strokes the hair from my forehead and speaks softly.

"Ready?"

Am I? It's....I...yes.

I nod my head before he even finishes asking, my lower lip still held firmly by my teeth and my chest rising and falling quickly.

I don't want to give myself the opportunity to over-analyze and ruin this torrid, hungry passion that erases all of my sadness and fear. This is something I don't have to be afraid of, and I'm going to cling to every moment. Even if the last time wasn't wanted or my fault.

Peeta, apparently satisfied with my rushed response, puts his hand back between us without delay. Delicately, he presses the rounded tip of himself into me and he releases his hold on my hips, letting me take control. I lower myself down around him, slowly at first. Once I adjust to the first couple of inches of his length inside me, I gain confidence and take a deep breath. Upon my exhale, I slide the remainder of him into me and gasp. The rush of pain brings a lump to the back of my throat and I dig my fingernails into Peeta's shoulders.

He buries his face in my neck, sinking his teeth lightly into my skin when I engulf him. Not enough to break the skin, or even use his fangs, though. My thighs grip his as my entire body tenses and he wraps his arms around me. He flattens his palms over my spine and rubs circles along my back, trying to do all he could think of to ease my discomfort. I relax at his touch, and the pain lessens. Deciding I need to focus elsewhere, I press my lips to his. Peeta's aptitude for sensing when I need distracting was ever-present, even now.

Peeta brings his hands from my back to my breasts, stroking his thumbs back and forth over my taut nipples. After a few minutes of fondling and wet kisses, a warm gush of lust pools in my lower abdomen and soothed my aching insides. I test this by gingerly lifting myself off of him, feeling neither a rush of pain nor relief beyond the minor stinging, which had become somewhat pleasing. Surprised at how easily I had adjusted to him, I smile wryly and begin wiggling back down over him again.

More slowly this time, I lower myself onto him. Peeta's lips find mine as I let my weight rest on his thighs. I welcome the kiss, which tethers me to him as the renewed stinging inside me recedea. My fingers wove through his hair while his own begin roaming over my breasts once more. Feeling the growing smoldering of a building release, I roll my hips to stroke my clitoris over the soggy patch of his blonde pubic hairs nestled between us. We moan in unison, and I tug on a handful of his hair.

I deepen our kiss as his head tilts backward. I gently roll my hips, in a wider circle this time. My inner walls throb and squeeze him as I press my clitoris into him again. I feel him tense beneath me, and his hands drop from my nipples to my hips. His fingers inch across my skin to my round ass and he grabs me firmly with each hand. He begins pushing his hips toward mine, matching my increasing pace.

I break our kiss and lift my face, moaning unabashedly to the sky.

My parted lips form a lazy, yet genuine smile around my breathy moans.

As I become more confident in my movement on top of him, I trace my fingers from his hair to his chest, using him to steady myself. I speed up the rocking of my hips and, without missing a single beat, he meets my rhythm with his hips effortlessly. Peeta's fingers dig into my skin and he bites his lip.

His hips freeze and I pause to drop my eyes to his. I immediately read his scrunched up expression and I smile satisfactorily as I continue riding him. I begin raising myself off of him and sinking back down heavily. Each time, I pull him even farther out of me.

I begin picking up my pace and bounce up and down on his lap. He gracefully falls back onto his elbows, feasting on the full view of my thin, muscular body. I gasp and then moan as the new angle allows more of him inside me. He watches as I readjust myself over him, twitching as I squeeze my muscles around him. I return to my task, impaling myself on him vigorously. His chest was now out of reach, so my hands roam to my own. I begin massaging my breasts and rolling my nipples between my fingers.

I begin imitating the wide, lazy circles he had made with my three middle fingers. He moans a disjointed sentence of warning that he was going to come.

I didn't hear him over my own shuddering moans of delight. My muscles flutter around him and, in an instant, he loses control. I feel a burst of heat inside me and the welcome release of my own orgasm blocks out the rest of the world. His cock gives a compulsory jerk several times, each time spilling a load of his scorching hot cum into me.

I rock my hips more slowly now, the corners of my vision blurring and my ears ringing as the last tides of my orgasm ebb. Peeta drops his shoulders and head to the bed, closing his eyes and letting out one last, long groan as he thrusts upward into me. Our combined fluids gush from me as he plunges deeper inside me. I sigh a moan and lay forward onto his chest.

He takes a deep breath and wraps his arms around me, holding me securely against him. He shifts his hips to pull out of me, and gently rolls me to his side, back into our regular sleeping position. I tilt my face to him and we share a soft kiss between heavy breaths.

His fingers sweep my hair from my forehead and he kisses the crease that had form between my eyebrows.

"Is something the matter?" Peeta whispers to me, running his thumb over my eyebrow to relax the tension in my face.

"I still owe you one," I grumble, almost playfully. Peeta laughs heartily and I crack a small smile.

"I think I'm okay with that."

I reach and pull the covers over us, listening to the sound of his pounding heart. His chest lifts my head up as he takes a slow, deep breath. I smile and close my eyes, content where I was.

"Katniss," he says, voice slightly different.

I nuzzle my head into his chest more, but he pulls out from under me. I spare no thought for it and only settle onto my stomach, stuffing into the pillows. An icy cold gust of air brushes against my neck, the skin there pebbling.

"Peeta, stop. I'm going to sleep," I yawn, rolling my neck slightly to rid of the trickling feeling there.

His hand is cold as it flips me over, and then I am bare before him. I blink up at him.

His eyes are red as rubies, blue streaky irises barely visible as he regards me like a wild animal.

I'm breathing hard now, and a terrified panic is setting so deep that I can't breathe. I'm jerking away but I can't move, he's so heavy and immoveable as stone and I can't. Move. His mouth moves upwards, not quite a kiss as he drags his lips against the plane of my throat. He nips me in a sharp warning as I pull away involuntarily, and I feel a warm trickle moving down my skin a second later.

"Calm," he grounds out a command, his voice deep and ragged like gravel.

Liquid relaxation pools into me, every tense muscle molding into the bed.

The once-blue wells of his eyes are red a fire as he stares down at me.

"Accept me," he slurs around lengthening teeth, bone-white and deadly. His voice is coarse like rocks and ancient with promise. "Mate. Accept me." He slides his mouth across his wrist viciously, thick red drops streaming puddles down onto my chest.

My body seems both weightless and heavy as granite all at once, my eyes like dry, glassy marbles. My vision becomes useless because all I see is Peeta. My mate. Peeta. My mate.

"Mate," I agree dreamily, a whispered contract as I open my mouth to accept the stream of red drops.

And then, he rips my throat.

At least, that's what it feels like as he sinks his teeth into my jugular, but it's strange, so strange, because the piercing, agonizing pain is only temporary, like a vague memory. I look up with bleary eyes, and Peeta is leaning over me, his face feral and his lips running red with me. My blood.

"Mate," he says hoarsely, not quite gravelly anymore as it is soaked with blood.

My mind can't reconcile it, because we were covered in crimson, and I'm pretty sure I am dying, dying, dying.

I open my mouth to say something, anything, to tell him it's okay and that I'm glad that it's him, but my eyes are so heavy and I just...want...to sleep...

~

Peeta's P.O.V.

"Katniss," I choke out, the familiar tingle already creeping up the base of my spine. Somewhere in the back of my mind is the awareness that the servants would kill me - yet another night of sticky semen and sweat-soaked sheets after wet nightmare.

This is where I wake up now, I think gratefully, and since it's a dream, my nightmare to own, I lean down to lick at the shiny, glittering blood that's streaming from her throat.

But, it's not shiny. It's dark and thick and intoxicating; it's real.

"Katniss," I choke out again, and I almost collapse onto her because it's my voice ringing out into the room. My dream self is a monster voice that talks in nightmare speech.

WAKE UP.

But she doesn't wake up. Katniss makes a sick, wet sound and her head lolls, her olive skin waxen as her eyes flutter shut.

"Katniss?" I whisper again, freezing. I'm aware of our nakedness all at once, at what I did.

I get up and realize I'm not in the castle. I'm still in the cabin. I throw on my clothes again and cover Katniss up.

I sit back down and run my hands through my hair and rips out the strands in torment, an inhuman howl tearing from my throat. I hunch over her body and shake her lightly, then harder, begging for her to wake up. Katniss please wake up I'm sorry please Katniss please please, please.

I don't even look up as the door bursts open.

"My Lord," Finnick says, panic stricken in his voice. He's instantly walking across the room and stepping over a rapidly pooling puddle of blood, surverying the mess of Katniss's throat with wide eyes. "My Lord," he repeats, crouching down next to me. I moan, rubbing my blood-streaked face into Katniss's hair.

"You have to turn her, Peeta," Finnick says, his voice soft. He reaches down to feel her neck, and I whip my head around, my eyes dark and almost feral.

"Don't touch her!" I snarl, my arms flattening around her still body. "How did you even know about this place?"

"Not that hard when you can smell blood near. She's not dead yet," Finnick says, but the thin thread of urgency is clear underneath. "But she will be if you don't turn her."

I deflate, my eyes blue again as I stare at Finnick. "What did I do?" I cried. "Finnick, I hurt her. I love her so much and I hurt her."

"It's not your fault," he says. "But Peeta, she's your mate. I should have explained all of this to you much earlier and we don't have time now, but you'll both be lost if you don't act now."

"I don't care about me," I moan.

"Do it for Katniss, then," Finnick urges.

I look down, frantic and worried and sick. "What do I do?" I whisper, my voice still slightly slurred around my extended teeth.

"She needs your blood," he says.

"She already had some, I- I think," I stutter in shame and self-loathing, remembering what I thought was a nightmare.

"She needs more. You have to be sure. Now bite your wrist." I do as I'm told, barely flinching as I tear open my wrist again. I pry open Katniss's slack mouth, whispering apologies, begging softly for her to forgive me as the thick red liquid flows down her throat.

"What now?" I ask anxiously.

"Now you kill her."

I stare at him. "Are you out of your mind? I don't, I don't-"

"She has to die by your hands with your blood in her system. Drain her while injecting her with your venom. Your body knows what to do. Now do it!"

"I can't!" I shake my head violently. "I can't."

"She's almost there. You have to. If she dies now, she'll come back, Peeta. She'll come back and she won't be Katniss. She'll be a ghoul living a half-life and then you'll have to cut off her head and burn her heart. Is that what you want?"

"No! God!"

"Now, Peeta."

"I hate this. I hate myself," I say, my eyes wide with shock.

"Hate yourself in the morning," Finnick says with finality. "Now do it."

I shake violently, leaning down and stroking Katniss' hair from her face. "I'm so sorry, I'm sorry," I whisper, kissing her cheek. "I love you."

And then I bite her.

"How long will it take?" I ask flatly, staring down at Katniss's prone form on our bed. After it was done, after I had drained her of her lifeblood and felt her last heartbeat in my mouth, I had sobbed like a child. Finnick had us rush back to the Castle. Finnick and Johanna had to pry me from her body, lifting her onto the bed and sending me to get cleaned up.

"It's different for everyone," Johanna replies, watching as I gently clean Katniss's face with a warm towel.

"Will she be the same?" I whisper.

"She'll be better."

The clock ticks and the room is dark. I'm stretched out on my side next to Katniss, lightly sleeping when I feel cold trailing fingers on my face. My eyes flicker open and I smile in relief.

"I'm hungry," Katniss says