CHAPTER NINE

I close my eyes as Venia rips off the sugar wax from my arms and legs. It's not as seamless as it was in the Captiol and much more painful as they crudely tweeze the stragglers. There's no salve to soothe my stinging flesh, either. No blow dryers for Flavius to sap the water from my washed hair, so he resorts to sitting me on a high ladder to reach the air vent in nothing but a towel. Octavia abuses my cuticles into working order, even my toes for good measure.

Peeta's prep team was executed by order of President Snow along with all the living victors' tributes, broadcasted on live television for the whole nation to see. Maybe that's why my prep seems so rushed; we must share mine. Without Cinna to direct them aside from his notes and Coin being as averse to beauty as I, my prep team usually resort to a natural beauty pallet for us. When I arrive on set to film the propaganda commercial, I see that my prep team also had to work on Johanna and Finnick. The couples, me with Peeta and Finnick with Anna, were the main focus of this propaganda – love.

Largely excluding Johanna, which she did not take kindly to.

"Why bother to rip my hair out if they just planned to have me stand off to the side?!" She growls. "Now my arms and legs will itch for days."

"It felt more improvisational with this one." I reason. "Plutarch must be feeling nervous."

"Oh, please!" She hisses. "Gamemakers live for drama. And war is the ultimate form of that!"

"Filming us killing ourselves to pass the exams wasn't entertaining enough." I agree.

Johanna rolls her eyes, "I've never felt healthier."

We fall silent. I watch Peeta deliver his scripted monologue to the cameras, inspecting as critically as I can. His wavy ash-blond hair, electric blue eyes, and pale complexion were illuminated by the excessive camera lights. Almost like he was on fire. I'm suddenly struck by my waking nightmares of losing him again.

What have I done? I ask myself, examining his impossibly speedy recovery. I've watched his progress in training, seen the determination in those eyes. I saved him from starvation, rebuilt him, only to send him back to be destroyed. I should not have helped you, Peeta. I think to myself.

Now you're heading towards certain death. Because of me.

I flinch when Johanna gets called away but then Finnick took her place. I'm brought back to reality by Peeta's distant voice and Finnick much more of a friendly face than Johanna. Next to Peeta, he's the only Games survivor that I can relax around. Now that I think about it, I can relax more around Finnick than I can with Peeta. With Finnick, I've got less to lose.

"Feeling any regrets?" He cocks a brow when I shake my head. "Not even with Peeta?" I glance away. "The people I lost, I'd kill to have just one more conversation with them. One more embrace, one more …" Finnick trails off.

I know what he is insinuating but I don't feel offended, which is odd for me. Any mention of sex would usually lock my mouth shut. But, we've been shoulders to lean on for each other while our lovers were prisoners of war. I'll never forget when he resuscitated Peeta. I trust him not to mock my inexperience.

I whisper back, "Some of the girls in school fantasize about it, sharing their 'first times' with their friends. A few even bragged. But, I couldn't risk having a baby in District 12. So, I was always too afraid to do it … and …."

"You never learned anything about it? Sex, I mean?" Finnick asks, leaning against the countertop.

"I know I can get pregnant by … doing it." I gulp and shrug; my cheeks must be reddening. "My mother never explained anything about it to me and I turned a deaf ear on that gossip at school. The only man I've even seen undressed is Peeta … on that riverbed."

"Wish I could say the same." Finnick adds quickly after my smirk, "Well, I've seen many more people naked. I meant in District 4. It seemed like a most of the pregnancies were not from trying. But you know, sex is not only about starting a family. It's the most primal, earthly expression of love there is – besides killing for them."

"But how could I have ever taken that risk, Finnick?" I ask. "I could never be a mother!" I shake my head. "Not ever."

"Katniss, odds are you'll never live to get the chance to." He reminds me darkly. "As for me, I'm not going to waste any more opportunities to be with Anna."

He meets my eyes, green to grey, and I nod back. I spot Boggs, my bodyguard, exiting the 'filming studio'. I abandon Finnick at the wall to follow Boggs. He is a man in his mid-forties with impeccable posture, closely-cropped gray hair, and blue eyes.

"Scared about the exam?" Boggs asks when he hears me coming; I nod. "They're going to test your weaknesses," he continues with some doubt. "Work on what holds you back."

"Following orders," I admit lamely and Boggs lets slip a smirk. I add, "But most of all ... Boggs, I need you to do something for me." I gaze up at him, "Don't let Peeta come to the Capitol."

Boggs eyes me for a moment, "I thought you'd want –"

"He hasn't had enough time to recover." I shake my head, "He's not meant to be a soldier."

He considers me, "His doctors and commander York cleared him to take the final exam. It's not up to me." I sink down to the nearest storage container and he joins me, "Peeta has just as much of a right to fight as you do. It's his choice to make."

"The only reason we're alone right now is because they're scrapping that jell out of his curly hair. He follows me wherever I go." I remind him. "And my path is always fraught with danger. If he is with me, I'll be … distracted off Snow."

"Our laws clearly state that anyone who passes the exams may join the fight –"

"You're the president's second-in-command." I insist, grabbing him by his sleeve. "She has had enough of my demands. I know it. The sooner the war is over and we never have to see each other again, the better." Boggs raises a brow good-naturedly. I beg now, "Please. You did not rescue Peeta, risk all those people's lives, just so that he can be thrown back into the flames."

I do not know if I had persuaded Boggs to help me. He dodges my imploring gazes, circumventing any opportunity to sway him again. After days of his rejection, I reconcile with myself that I at least tried to keep Peeta out of the impending battle. My heart has migrated to my throat over this fortnight. Peeta and I make our day down the buffet que for supper, not noticing that Boggs has taken the spot directly behind Peeta.

"Are you alright? You've been so quiet today." Peeta asks me sweetly.

I gulp, "The exams are tomorrow …."

"We've done all we can to prepare for them." He reminds me, laying a big warm hand on my lower back. "Tonight, let go of the reins for me. Ok? Let's relax together later." He glances down at my tray, "They forgot your milk. Wait here, I'll get it."

It's only then that I'm face to face with Boggs. I can't help my imploringly pathetic gaze up at him. Boggs clears his throat after watching Peeta depart from us.

"Just focus on your studies. I need you at the Capitol." He tells me shortly. He finally meets my eyes and after a long moment adds, "You and Peeta's codependency is too unhealthy for battle, anyway."

He nods and I understand. Before I can confirm my assumption, Boggs turns his back on me, departing for his table in the cafeteria. Feeling my eyes water, I breathlessly thank him. As Peeta returns to me with my milk, a feeling strikes me that I had not expected: regret. Constricting, nauseating, regretful guilt.

I should have felt relieved that, whatever Peeta's results may be tomorrow, he won't be going to battle with me at the Capitol. He sets my milk on my tray and kisses my lips, guiding us to our table with my mother and sister. As we tuck into our controlled portions, I feel myself sinking further in despair. I almost can't swallow. I glance around to find Boggs but know that I can't go back on my request.

Fearing that he'll keep me here instead, the basket-case from District 12 who can't make up her own mind.

"Katniss, you look pale." I hear my mother comment.

It takes me a moment to register my own name and I cringe under the gaze of three sets of blue eyes. I jolt slightly when Peeta runs his toasty hand up and down my back. I finally meet his eyes and I'm almost compelled to confess my sin.

But I turn away to my mother, "I'm just tired, that's all."

Peeta clears his throat, "Training was intense today."

I glance down at my lap, knowing Peeta's lying for me again. We did not have training today. He prompts me and I nod.

Then I shake my head, "I think I'm going to turn in early."

With his unfailing loyalty, Peeta abandons the rest of his meal along with me. He's a genuinely good person, I've known that for a long while now.

He opens the door to his quarters for me, "Lady's first."

I croak out, "How could I ever have doubted you?"

He closes the doors behind him, "What are you talking about?"

"Why did you choose me?" I ask. "Of all the girls in 12, why me?"

"I didn't choose." Peeta frowns, "I don't think anyone can." He then smiles for me, "And none of them have been as lucky as I have in love."

"There are so few people whom I think well of … let alone love." I turn my back to him guiltily. "I was so struck by your manners. You were so charismatic, I knew you must be bluffing."

Peeta shakes his head slowly, "I never lied to you."

"I'd never met anyone like you before. So diplomatic and refined. I thought that if I could return to District 12 for Prim, I'd be happy. Unchanged." I gulp, "So naïve."

"I love you," he says.

"You shouldn't!" I press my eyes closed, scratching at the steel-reinforced concrete walls, whispering, "I'm poison, Peeta."

My hand curls into a fist then I feel his hand on my shoulder. I take another deep breath before looking up at him. One look in his eyes unlocks the gate holding back my tears. Peeta leads me to the foot of his bed, only separating to retrieve tissues to dab away my tears. He presses his forehead to my temple, bringing me close to him. I feel his breath on my neck.

"You're a daughter, a sister … a rebel, a nurturer, a huntress, a survivor. A hero." He beamed, then frowned. "I wish you could see that."

I shake my head, pinching the ends of my hair, "All I know is … there are moments with you. When we kiss, I feel this pulsing inside of me." I hesitate before placing my hand as low on my abdomen as I dare. "And I just want you closer … so close … to melt into me." I describe. "With the way my life has gone, these chances are slipping straight through my fingers. Not even water anymore – like fog. I can't let my fear intimidate me any longer."

For the first time, he's at a loss for words. Peeta stared at me for the longest moment before kissing me. I can feel that he's trembling and realize that so am I. I shudder against his toasty lips thawing away any trepidation remaining. I recline on those grey cotton sheets, my silver eyes fluttering up at him.

He ascends my body, his ashy curls curtaining his thin face. He strokes my bones, my muscles, flushing my olive skin. Peeta takes his time softly tracing the outlines of my breasts. I was like a canvas he was painting a masterpiece on. His stroking fingers the brushes, his kisses the paint.

We unbutton and shake ourselves free of our District 13 uniforms. Primal, natural, and free for this event. His pupils are so large, they're like an eclipse against bright blue daylight. He arouses me like no other, so much so that it does not hurt at all when he enters me. Gazing up at the ceiling while he kisses my neck, I resolve to keep my sin a secret.

Not our consummation, but my transgression against him. Stealing away his right to fight this war. I regret my selfishness, but not saving his life. My love for him surpasses any reciprocation from him. If I die in battle, it'll be compensation for this lie.

I'd do anything for him, even if he hates me for it.

While he thrusts steadily and fully into me, I moan into Peeta's ear, "I'll always love you."