50th Hunger Games Book Novels & Stories

Because this time Lexie knew who she was truly giving herself to. A moan slipped from her as I took another lick as I lapped up more of her juices for the hunger I had building inside of me. Nipping at the pink flesh my fangs elongated enough to pierce it slightly without causing any pain for me to take a taste of what flowed within her. The taste of her juices mixed with her blood sent waves of hunger and desire to my soul begging me to make her mine. I wanted to shut that part of me down, but I had promised Lexie this one night of me truly giving myself to her. So instead, I gave into the hunger and devoured her pussy like it was the last meal I would ever get from her.

" Understood eight twelve, reinforcement is already on the way." A child's birthday, oh god. Proles, these genetically engineered animals were monsters and Maddox had already seen with his own eyes what these beasts could do. He didn't want to imagine what she would be waiting for at her destination. But he would find out, because he was Venator, a state-approved hunter whose job it was to get the prole plague under control.

Seems like they want to make fun of me so I decided to finish my coffee faster and ask them to our first destination. The Family History Library. You see why I am in this place called Las Vegas? Because once upon a time, when I am so desperate to see Arianne and was in a very broken state because of her betrayal, I acted impulsive and reckless. I get to be with a girl I never know that much, fucked her all day and marry her at nightime.

His friend was supposed to be happy, he deserved it, and it didn't matter that found it in his girlfriend's arms. Nadir sat in her cave in the Underground and prepared for the next walking out to the surface. Her hunger was getting worse, she was getting weaker and weaker, so absolutely had to feed. Get as much energy as possible to keep her calm for a week or two. When Nadir left to go to the portal that led to the surface, she came across someone that didn't want to see, now or ever.

🖤🩸“I have always wondered what my destiny was. This vampiric witcher believes it’s to bear his pup, and to drink from me.” – Frida King🩸🖤 …. “Now listen ladies,” Maria the fox woman said. “This is the third phase of the Games. With just 9 of you left, the chances of winning are slim,” “The Masters have met you, but the Game result proves your suitability,” she continued, crossing her legs as she sat on the grass. “Knowing this, please rise,” she said.

Yet… even after all that security, I felt vulnerable and defeated as the memories of the people being slaughtered and sheer demonic violence rushed into my head as I leafed through the burnt pages of that book. The book was last rented by a girl preparing for the medical entrance exam to bring her family out of poverty and permanently shift to Arginieth to have a better life. Seems this was the last book she would ever rent. Not just her body, but her dreams and the future of her family buried under this debris with this book. I looked at the sky and took a deep breath. “What’s the point?” I mumbled to myself as I threw the book back into the mountain of debris, which had once been a temple

A ‘book versus movie’ debate broke out. I looked over at Jenny sitting quietly while the rest of her group chatted away, and a thought popped into my head. Who would die first, me or her? I turned my attention back to my group as they discussed the finer points of Peeta versus Gale, and the answer to my morbid question stared me in the face. I got to my feet and said, “Bathroom,” by way of explanation to the inquiring faces looking up at me. “The thing about The Hunger Games, though, still a better love story than Twilight, right?” I dropped that literary hand grenade and walked away.

The new girls were shoved into their cages, injuries ignored, and a small cup of water was handed to each of us. I drank mine down greedily, they had started giving us less and less as the weeks went by, and I worried at this rate I was going to starve to death, or die of dehydration, I wasn’t sure which was worse. I begged and pleaded and cried for more most days now, they never gave me any, but it was working towards the persona I was portraying. Meek and scared. One day, one moment that’s all I needed, then I would get out of here, I would go alone but I would be back, and when I was, even the goddess wouldn’t be able to save them.

The cover of the book read, “Arthur Zimmerman, Game 71. I found the second shelf on the case and scanned for my next book. Book thirteen had a cover of deep purple. I frowned at the woman looking up at me, scanning over her tangled fiery curls, the cinnamon freckles across her nose, and the way her emerald eyes seemed to twinkle at me from the cover. Her hair and eyes were the only familiar thing about her. My face was a bit rounder than hers, and definitely held a bit more baby fat. Her cheekbones were high and her lips full, conventionally beautiful in a wild sort of way. I felt that twinge of guilt as I looked down at the cover. “Sasha Burnette, Game 51.”

Then I see another man come forward to where Freya is struggling and he barks, “You know our orders. Clyde wants one female from every family. We don’t take more than that, otherwise, there’ll be nothing left for us later on.” What does that mean? Are they here for tributes? My heart races in both fear and rage. How dare they touch my little sister! How dare they come and lay waste to our village! We have worked so hard for everything that we own. How dare they come and destroy everything?! Rage courses through my veins and I sink my fingers into my palm, shredding them in frustrations and anger. If only I could shift. Through the leaves, I can see Michael pleading with the men as they grab