روايات وقصص ضمن 1st Quarter Quell Hunger Games

Xantiago calls through the room as they all start moaning at who they would like to be rejected so they might bid on those leaving the games. When I catch Hunter looking at me, his expression is quite peculiar. “I thought you weren’t playing favourites?” he asks through the link with his gruff voice. “I’m not, but this isn’t to the death, I need these games to work, besides round two is where the fun really begins,” I reply narrowing my eyes as he just nods, not looking convinced, turning back to the screen. Jennifer appears once more, adding into the mix as the girls, tired, bloody and covered in sweat, fight for their lives.

The urge to pull him from the counter and scent him was through the roof. Quinn opened up the only cabinet Gideon hadn't searched and pulled out a sealed package. He turned his back towards us as he quickly worked around the kitchen, producing a bowl filled with warmed blood and a plate of raw meat. He sat them next to Gideon who was drooling noticeably at this point. Quinn's lips quirked into a slight smile watching as my mate dug into his food. Gideon was making a mess of himself, dipping the meat into the warmed blood and scarfing it down.

The man putting the poultice on her stomach said. He carefully helped her sit up, wrapping bandages around her stomach. She looked down and realized that her breasts had been modestly covered by the cloak she had been given, and it relaxed her. "Who beat you?" The cold voice came from the man who was glaring at her, his eyes filled with rage. "M-my brother, Seth." Her voice was weak and raspy, but she did her best to talk clearly. "I-I don't even know your names." "I'm Glen. I'm the healer and herb specialist for the Hunters." The man wrapping her abdomen said, bowing his head. "And he is Liam. He forgets proper manners sometimes, but once he warms up to you, you won't notice."

Akira yelled. "In case any of you don't understand why your food and drinks are missing," They continued, "This will be your first motivation." "Motivation?" We all collectively questioned. I'm sure some of us had already realized what they meant, but most of us probably tried to block out anything that happened when we first woke up. "That is correct, this is your first motivation for murder. Until someone is killed, you will all slowly starve. Simple, yes?" Their condescending, almost happy tone enraged all of us, and I was the first one to speak up.

"What did you think lived there?" "Who are you?" she asked. Something shifted in his expression — so quick she almost missed it. Something that might have been surprise, as if he hadn't been asked that question in a very long time. "Kael," he said. "Seventh god of war. Currently fallen, stripped of divinity, and apparently summoned by a mortal girl in a cold room." A pause. "You may want to be afraid." "Should I be?"

he asks curious. "Oh, you know, a bit of the mill gossip is all." I say, the smell of cooked corn, green beans, and assorted meats hitting my nostrils. The hunger pains are worse, and Quill scoops up some green beans with the small wooden spoon, placing it near my mouth. "I can feed myself!" I say, as I try to steal the spoon from him. Quill draws back, tsking though, and I sigh. "You're an injured lady who saved my life. Let me at least do this for you." he says, and I finally relent, opening my mouth as he places the spoonful of food inside.

"No shit. I did it anyway. You're welcome. Now eat. You look like corpses." She dropped the bags on the small table. Then walked out without waiting for a reply. Like none of it mattered. Like she hadn't just brought breakfast to two naked wrecks curled together in her club. Hawk stared at the door. Quill sat up and reached for the closest bag. The smell hit fast. Bacon, something cheesy, eggs spiced and greasy in a way that made his stomach turn. Hunting wild game would have been better for healing, but this would do for now.

She closed her eyes, the cold seeping deeper, the hunger a constant companion. Then her ears caught a sound first, like a distant promise—slow, deliberate footsteps echoing down the damp corridor. Her heart stuttered. She thought it was Odessa again, bringing the daily torment disguised as food. Today, her pride was gone and it didn’t matter. If the Beta spat in the porridge, poured dirt into it, or kicked it across the floor, Scarlett would still eat. She would crawl through the bars and lick the stone clean if that was what it took.

Every fiber of my being aches to defend my Maddox, to break free from the chains of captivity. “Eat,” the woman says. “Helena needs you to stay alive until she doesn’t need you anymore.” It has been a day since we last ate. If my body is already aching with the gnawing pain of hunger, what more with Maddox’s? Worried and hesitant, my eyes dart suspiciously towards the tray of food that she has placed on the table. The woman leans against the grimy wall, her eyes still fixed on me. Slowly, she grins, a cruel twist of the lips, as she watches my hesitation, reveling in my torment.