Hilarius Heavensbee Hunger Games 소설 & 이야기

“So, Hunger is the name of that lizard.” The familiar voice that she dreaded to hear appeared at her side. The man was sporting his signature malicious grin with a sharp pair of eyes. His well-carved eyebrows were slightly raised as if he was mocking her. H-How? On reflex, Cent took a drastic step backward. The distress signal was being sent to her familiar and her Slaughter butterflies. A flock of flesh-eating butterflies gathered around her and Hunger let out a ground-shattering roar – its head turned towards her direction. But all of these did not stop Cent from tripping over, the fall was inevitable for her.

"We smile. We negotiate. We pretend we are civilized. And then we go home and sharpen our knives for the next century of quiet war." "Sounds exhausting." "It is." I picked up a piece of toast. Took a bite. It was perfect. Buttery, warm, slightly charred at the edges. I hated how good it was. "What happens at this Conclave that requires a Null?" I asked between bites. Kael leaned back in his chair. The firelight from the hearth painted shadows across his face.

“But there are levels to this game, Henrique.” I took a step forward. “Return the shipment you hijacked. Or be ready to be torn alive.” Henrique spat on the ground near my boot. He laughed, taunting me. “Go on. I dare you. Do your worst.” I tilted my head. “As you wish.” I didn’t even have to signal. The clearing erupted into a total disorder. Bodies collided; the sound of fists hitting the enemy’s flesh; the snarls of wolves filling the air.

At the far end, a fireplace roared like a caged beast, casting dancing shadows over oil portraits of Drevanes who looked like they’d strangled rivals for using the wrong fork. Welcome to the Hunger Games, if the tributes were forced to eat truffle foam with a gold spoon. The butler bowed. “Mademoiselle Veyron.” All eyes snapped to me. Showtime, Selene. I pasted on Selene’s vacant smile—the one she used when ignoring servants—and glided forward. Inside, my heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped sparrow. Don’t trip. Don’t blink. Don’t breathe too loudly. Cassian sat at the head of the table, all sharp angles and storm clouds. He didn’t look up from his tablet, but I felt his gaze like a

The heat of his body soaked through silk, reminding her with each turn just how close they were. “You’re trembling,” he murmured, lips ghosting the shell of her ear. Amara swallowed hard. “I am not.” “Liar.” His chuckle vibrated low in his chest, dark velvet against her bones. “But don’t worry. I like liars. They make the game more interesting.”

Quickly, I ran to it, and broke it with my knee, taking the sharp edge, and pointing it at him. “I'm Darius. It's me, Hazel.” He said, softly, approaching me. My brain worked quickly. He was pretending. Maybe… what if I played his game too? I lowered the branch slowly, but didn't let go of it. “Darius?” I asked. “Yeah. He's… he's a doppelganger. How did you get here?” I looked at his belly, which was perfectly unhurt. Obviously I'd seen Darius hurt and dying in reality, and ran to him without thinking, but telling him that would only make him aware that I was pretending.

I replied, keeping my expression calm. Heather seemed a little warm; her tight-fitting, low-cut dress was now damp with sweat and showed off her slender figure. She did not say anything and just picked up the water glass and took a sip, causing her chest to move. The sight is almost overwhelming. There was a drop of water at the corner of her lips, and Heather licked it delicately with her small, exquisite tongue. The memory from last night suddenly surged back. My breathing quickened, and I hurriedly turned my back to her. "Heather, if you're... if that is all, maybe you should just go back for now."

I yelled crudely like he wasn’t two steps away from me. Best to ask and get it over with so I could start prepping my will. Not that I had anything to give save for my favourite green beanie and a suspicious undead teddy bear. I reckoned if I stretched my leg, it would brush against the blue denim of his jeans. I did not stretch my leg. Crutches were hard to come by. “I’m not eating you…yet. Don’t test my patience, Nola.” Hector’s honeyed baritone was surprisingly calm. But so were the true-blood werewolves that ate my parents.

“‘Cheers.’ Really? You chose a bar called ‘Cheers.’” “They have good food. British pie.” Beady eyes took in Jona’s hoodie as the thug forked at a piece of pastry and chicken before swiping at the gravy on the plate. Harris shoveled the food into a hungry mouth, glancing up nervously at Jona’s lethal stare. “What’s your fucking problem?” he asked. “Imagining the different ways I could kill you. It’s a game.” “You’re crazier than I am.” “Damn right. And I’ve racked up more bodies at half your age. Never forget that.”

“I'm not belittling you, young man. I just can't think of any reason why I should be afraid of you. You look like a nice young man and harmless,” His eyes widened as he heard what I said. I took a deep breath and introduced myself. “By the way, my name is Dane Steele, and I am the Alpha King of Lotus Pack. You are here in our territory, Greenwoods Village,” I said, offering my palm for a handshake. The young man looked at me suspiciously, as if he doubted my words. Even though his body is numb with pain, he avoids my hand offer. “D-Don't come near me!”