Delly Hunger Games Novels & Stories

The greedy, gulping sounds of feeding. I followed the sound and saw a scene that would be burned into my memory forever. Damon had Delia pinned against an ancient stone sarcophagus. Her dress was torn to shreds, her legs wrapped tight around his waist. They were engaged in the most primal, savage form of feeding. Damon’s fangs were buried in Delia’s neck as he drank greedily from her. Delia, in turn, bit down on his shoulder, letting out a breathy moan.

Della smashed his nose for the last time and pushed him down to the rooftop. "Ahh!" He fell off dead in the ground while the eyes are opened. Della's forehead knotted seeing Cufer in the nearby rooftop fighting against Niklaus's huge man. He is the one who shot her opponent a minute ago. He needs my help, she said in her mind walking backwardly. Without any hesitant, she run rapidly like a cheetah in the rooftop where Cufer is. When Della was still studying in Greece, she always joining marathon contest because of the positive thought she'll going to win it. She won five executive trophies by winning the marathon that made her known in school.

No more until tonight. The day dragged on endlessly. Delilah went through the motions at work, her mind elsewhere, her body hyper-aware of every brush of fabric against her skin. By the time evening rolled around, she was a bundle of nerves. She dressed carefully, choosing a simple black dress that hugged her curves, no underwear beneath it as a silent act of submission. The drive to the penthouse felt eternal, her anticipation building with every block. When she arrived, the door opened before she could knock, and there they were: Zeke, towering and impassive; Damien, with that warm, knowing smile; and Eli, marked and bruised from the night before, his eyes gleaming with shared secrets.

"Besides, this way is more useful. He seduces you. He falls for you and then when the truth comes out, he's too devastated to function. Too destroyed to be credible. Problem solved." “Okay, whatever it is you want it'll be done.” “Good.” And he hung up. Diego Vaughn was going to get hurt badly and I was going to be the one who did it because that was the plan. My phone was still in my hand. I opened a new message and started typing before I could stop myself but instead of texting Diego, I did something else. Arranged deliveries. First: The art book. Limited edition. Diego had mentioned it once in an interview I'd read. He said it was his dream to own it.

DELIA’S POV Cold metal. That was the first thing I felt when I woke up again. My face was on the cold floor. My mouth was dry. My stomach hurt a lot. My head felt like it was pounding. Three days. No food. No water. Just silence, darkness, and the low growls of the hyenas kept somewhere nearby. Whenever they made that horrible rumbling sound, it crawled into my bones. I hadn’t cried. Not once. But I was close.

So why did the thought of Vito going somewhere else to finish make him feel sick? He didn’t remember crawling into bed. One minute he was standing there replaying the moment, the next his eyes were snapping open to bright morning light filtering through the curtains. His stomach growled loudly, and angry. Aiden dragged himself out of bed, wincing as the movement pulled at the stitches on his arm. He still ached from last night. He threw on a loose t-shirt and sweatpants and headed downstairs. The house smelled warm and comforting, like oats and cinnamon. His stomach growled again as he walked into the dining area.

Outside, Helen nudged Ruby, motioning toward Delilah as she approached. "She’s here," Helen murmured. Ruby turned, her face lighting up when she spotted Delilah. "Morning," Delilah greeted, her voice firm and unyielding. "Morning," Helen replied, though her gaze lingered on Delilah’s face, noting the sharpness in her features. Delilah’s eyes lacked their usual warmth, replaced by something cold and determined. Ruby, however, was too captivated by her surroundings to notice. "Wow, Delilah!" she exclaimed, rushing toward her. "Your place is huge! It’s beautiful and looks... ridiculously expensive."

But I refused to give Riezel the satisfaction of seeing me cry. Instead, I kept my head down, my eyes fixed on the table as I struggled to maintain my composure. I knew that I had to get through this, no matter how hard it was. But as I glanced up at Riezel, I saw something in her eyes that made my blood run cold. It was a glint of triumph, of victory. She knew that she had won, that she had broken me. Riezel's eyes landed on my plate, and she raised an eyebrow. "Delilah, you haven't eaten anything yet," she said, her voice dripping with false concern. "Let me offer you some of these delicious dishes."

Della’s POV I wasn’t able to eat enough during my dinner with Kylian that I didn’t even feel half-full. Hence, as soon as I got home, I felt the exhaustion and starvation fill me. Opening the door, I was greeted by Diana. “Ms. Della, you’re back early. How’s the dinner?” Looking at her with a frown, I went straight to remove my heels and leave it lazily at the side before I threw myself in at the bed.

Not a prisoner. Then she tucked the meal carefully into the wardrobe, where it would cool overnight. She couldn’t risk eating it. Not until she understood the game being played. Not until she knew who Boris was playing for. That night, the hunger didn’t bite as hard. The food was there. Uneaten. A choice she’d made herself. ... Her stomach twisted again, but this time, it wasn’t hunger. It was something colder. She pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders and reached for the notebook on her desk.