Beauty and The Brute: Prologue

CATO

Cato flashed an arrogant smirk to the crowd as the chariot pulling him and Clove entered the Capitol streets. Draped in silky, expensive Roman robes, he looked more god-like than ever. The enthusiastic cheers from the crowd confirmed this. Women, and even a few men, tossed roses and kisses his way, screaming his name as though he were their king.

"I bet you're just eating this up, aren't you?" Clove mocked sarcastically under her breath to him. It was true and he knew it. The tall, blonde brute lived for moments like these.

He quirked his brow at his petite district partner, "Jealous?"

She rolled her sharp green eyes in response and continued to wave gracefully to the crowd. Draped in her own Roman attire with her mousy hair in soft waves, Clove looked fairly attractive. Not nearly as noticeable as her fellow tribute, but still somewhat appealing to the eye. Cato was confident that they would cause a significant impression on the crowd.

As they entered City Circle, an explosion of cheers sounded behind them. The crowds were going insane with enthusiasm, chanting one name louder than the others.

"Katniss! Katniss!"

Rage began to build deep inside Cato's chest. They were supposed to be yelling his name. Cato, the name of a warrior. Not the name of some other stupid tribute.

He shot a glance over his shoulder to see who dare stole his glory. The bitch would be first on his hit list for the Games. His eyes settled on her, inside the chariot at the flank of the line. The female tribute's black hair was pulled away from her olive toned face in an elegant braid down her back. She stared apprehensively at the crowd around her with piercing gray eyes. Though she wasn't the most stunning woman Cato had seen before, she certainly was not lacking in appearance. But it wasn't her looks that left the biggest impression on the crowd. It was the flames that seemed to engulf her and her district partner. She wasn't some faceless tribute. She was the Girl on Fire. And she had upstaged Cato.

He clenched his fist to contain his fury, his nails digging into the hardened skin of his palms. In that moment, he decided that she would pay. This little, insignificant girl would soon learn who was the real boss of the Hunger Games. And with her dying breath, she would be pleading his name, just as the crowd was screaming hers.