Ignited

Chapter 6 has arrived! Clove has sort of given up on hating Cato now, but she's still arguing with herself. Gosh, all this angst. Yeah, she's still a violent, malicious nutter. But she's fallen in love with someone.

Thanks again for reading, I have had so much support and just wow. You guys are amazing. Chapter 5 caused my twitter mentions to be bombed. So thank you, again.

Oh, and this chapter contains a lot of Clato fluff.

A lot.

-

President Snow’s speech doesn’t sink in. I’m too busy silently fuming to care what the Capitol has to say. I spot Cato’s muscles tighten up when the chariots start to move again. They’ve stolen our spotlight. And we hate them for it.
“She’d better watch her back.” Cato murmurs, so low that I almost can’t hear him.
“They’re dead first in the Arena, that’s all I can tell you.” I look up at Cato’s large frame as I speak and see the corners of his lips begin to twist into a sadistic smile.
“Well, we must have got some sort of sponsors.” He grins again.
“Of course, you look terrifying. They’d be scared to say no to Hallien and Lysander when they realise you’re their tribute.” I have to fight back hysterical laughter, I don’t know what’s come over me. Cato arches an eyebrow, then continues to look like the violent fight-starter I used to know.

“Are you alright?” I feel Cato’s hand slip around my waist for a second, steadying me. I flinch away, my eyes wide as he looks at me in confusion. I glare at him, then c**k my head towards the other tributes getting out of their chariots. He nods.
“I’m OK, I guess. I might need help getting down from here, though.” I balance precariously, clinging on to the handlebar for dear life as the chariot grinds to a halt. Cato shrugs and jumps down. He checks that no other tribute is watching us, and when he sees that only Marvel is glancing in our direction, he offers me a hand. I grab it, trying not to fall as I jump after him. The heels don’t help.
“Nice jump.” He laughs and looks at my busted heel. I purse my lips and shake off his compliment. I’ve gone beyond caring for lacking emotional attachment, and want to get to know Cato before we’re pitted against each other.
“Hey, you two!” A giggly, excited voice comes from nearby, and I spin around to see Glimmer waving, but glancing at the other tributes. She’s obviously trying to look impressive, trying to be one of the Careers who everyone fears. I nod curtly and adjust my outfit, feeling underdressed again. How can Glimmer even have that effect on people? Instead of feeling awkward, I stare at 12. They’re being congratulated by their mentor and stylists. Ours are probably sat somewhere, discussing how they could kill Katniss and the boy earlier on; the only person with us is Pentha, who keeps looking over at Katniss in disgust. I stop glaring when I hear Cato whisper gruffly into my ear.
“Like you said, they’re dead first.”

“You should sleep, we start training tomorrow.” I sigh when I hear Cato. Sleep completely escaped me, laying on the sofa has seemed to start becoming tradition.
“Yeah, I know.” There’s a long silence. That’s seemed to become tradition between us, as well. I think he’s left, so I turn around, but there he’s stood in the doorway. My insides squirm when I see him smirking at me. I try to get the feeling out of the way before I speak again, “Why weren’t you talking to me this morning?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugs and starts walking up to me tentatively, “Mind if I sit down?” I nod and draw my knees up to my chest, making space next to me. He sits, but is still bunched up, his muscles tight, making the situation awkward again.
“You do know, though.” I stare at him, trying to work out what he could be thinking.
“Yeah, but it doesn’t matter. Not anymore.” He sounds gruff and irritated, and I wonder if I should just go to my room and leave him alone. He relaxes slowly and I realise that he's looking at me.
"Why?" I feel my heartbeat quickening and find my mouth drying. What's wrong with me at the moment?
"I've given up." He murmurs and stretches.
"On what?" I manage to say. I meet his gaze finally, and see his eyes light up, amusement starting to show in them. He's probably noticed my blush.
"On trying to keep myself away from you." He growls, almost viciously. I furrow my eyebrows.
"What do you mean?" His lips arch into a smirk, and I feel my breath being taken away, yet again. Just forget it, Clove. Forget trying not to love him. Forget the Games. Forget it.
"I mean this." He whispers, and all of a sudden I feel his lips on mine. I freeze, then forget all the warning alarms going off in my head and start to kiss him back. He closes the gap between us and holds my head carefully in his huge hands. I feel his heart beating almost at the same pace as mine, a quick, dangerously quick, pace. I realise what I've gotten myself into and don't care. Because I've fallen in love with Cato Kaeron and I'm not turning back. Instead, I make the kiss more urgent, grabbing at the back of his neck and pulling him towards me, gasping through my nose as he responds with the same amount of enthusiasm.
Realisation hits me again, harder than before, “No, no, no, no.” I pull away and slap him. Hard. The look of shock on his face makes me want to laugh, but I channel it into anger. I can’t deal with something like this now.
“What? You were enjoying it.” He smirks, his eyebrows raised. I slap him again.
“Maybe I was, but we’re also going into a fight to the death in a few weeks and I just can’t afford to do that! We’ll have to kill each other!” I stand up and back away from him.
“Maybe they’ll change the rules if we play up the couple thing.”
“They never change the rules, Cato! And is that what that was? Some stupid tactic of yours? So you could learn my weak spots and get me to spill out my life story?”
“No, Clove, I didn’t mean -”
“What did you mean then?” I realise that I’m yelling at him, and I’m beyond the point of caring about Pentha’s sleep now. She hates me anyway, “I’m just the girl who you managed to acknowledge at school, that’s it! Why now?” I pick up a plant pot and throw it at him, and with my knife balancing skill, I manage to hit him right in the stomach. Glasses and several remotes follow, and I don’t listen when he tells me to stop, “You idiot!”
“Clove, Clove stop it. Clove!” He’s throwing stuff back and it takes him a few seconds to leap across the room and grab me. I’m kicking, spitting, scratching, biting. His grip may be strong, but I’m a fighter.
“What on Earth do you think you two are doing? Get to sleep! Now!” We both freeze when Pentha turns up. Not that I’m surprised. Cato drops me and I collapse in a heap at his feet. I don’t miss the chuckle from his direction when I storm out of the room.

I wake in surprise, because I didn’t dream. The nightmares didn’t make it into my sleep.
“Morning.” Pentha’s laying out clothes at the end of the bed. When I crane my neck to look, I see that they’re more comfortable and loose than usual. Oh yeah, training starts today. I try to blink the sleep from my eyes.
“Good morning. How long till training?” I ask, my voice still heavy and thick; I’m not quite awake yet.
“You have half an hour. Most of the tributes turn up late. I want you two to be there early, look impressive and ready for it, you know? As we do every year.” Her Capitol accent is coming through too strong again. It makes me feel ill. Or maybe that’s from the thought of facing Cato after yesterday.
“Alright.” I manage to get out of bed and stumble into the shower, subconsciously slamming my hand into a few buttons and letting the machine do its work, pouring on several layers of mango shower cream and a blast of ice cold water. After drying myself off with a clean, fluffy towel, I grab the clothes and dress, still trying to wake up. I don’t think I’ll be doing any serious training today if I’m crashing around like this. I scrape my hair into another ponytail, styling it like I used to during training back home. It feels more natural. I wash off my face one last time, then rush to the dining room. There’s not much time left now.
“Good morning, Clove.” The hilarity of my name, I think when I hear Cato scoffing slightly. Probably still so chuffed with his kissing skills.
“Hi.” I grunt and sit down, grabbing a warm roll and some marmelade, not really caring about what I’m about to consume at all. The fact that it’s food is good enough for me.
“Something wrong?” I’m getting irritated now. He sounds too happy.
“No, nothing.” I blink a couple of times and continue to eat. He snaps his fingers in front of my face and laughs.
“Come on, wake up. We’re training today, after all. You need to look like you’re ready to take on the world with your little knives,” He pauses for a quiet chuckle, “which you’re clearly not, but oh well.” I glare at him, but he just gives me a knowing smirk. I turn to Pentha, to see her looking completely calm. Cato had better not have told her anything.

Cato looks at me sideways, cracking his neck and grinning. The Head Trainer’s giving a speech, which most tributes are paying close attention to. Its about survival, and not going for weapons. I’m not listening, I’m just trying to find the knives in the room. If someone gets there before me, I swear, they’re dead before the Arena whether it's against the rules or not. I need to get back into my comfort zone before I forget how to switch knives fast, or throw them upside down, or aim at moving targets without trying hard. It’s only when tributes start dispersing to various stations that I realise we’re allowed to start. I obviously race to the knife-throwing station and ponder, as if I’ve never done it before and don’t know which knife will be easiest. I run my fingers over them, than pick up a dainty-handled one with a curved blade. It looks quite pretty, really. Shame it’s used for killing people. Another couple of knives make their way into my hands and I admire them for a while, before I hear footsteps approaching the station.
“Can you throw?” Marvel’s behind me, standing like he’s questioning my ability.
“Yes.” I nod, trying to keep the cold glare in my eyes a little less intense. I’m annoyed anyway, but I don’t want Marvel to break an alliance that hasn’t officially been formed yet. I turn back to the dummies and concentrate, falling into my ‘ready position’, relaxing my shoulders and knees. The dummies themselves don’t seem hard to aim at, the bullseyes are huge, bigger than the ones at home. So I whip my arm up and throw, and then another knife. And another. All bullseyes. I turn back to Marvel and smile sweetly. He smiles back, but I can see the fear in his eyes. Good.
“Can you?” I ask him, flipping an knife over in my hands expertly. Marvel gulps and goes into some long, exaggerated answer, but I’m not listening.
I’m looking over at Cato.
And Glimmer.