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I washed as quickly as possible, leaning over to let my short hair rinse clean in the tumble of water that fell over the rocks. I felt a little bad about using soap in the stream I fished out of, but it was sort of an emergency. Smelling horrible had kept me from being found by my pack’s trackers, but I had to be halfway decent to sneak back in among the other Games competitors.
There should be enough strangers there to hide my scent. Enough scent and noise and commotion. There had to be. I wasn’t certain even Del had a Plan C dreamed up.
The soap had left my skin squeaky clean. I sluiced off the excess water with my hands, then picked my way carefully across the mossy stones and grabbed my shirt and pants. I’d need to wear them again tomorrow, and they were the only set of boy’s clothes I had. I used the rest of the tiny bar of soap to get them clean—they passed the sniff test, but just barely—then laid them out on a boulder to dry. I let myself lie next to them for a while, relishing the feel of the sunlight on my skin.
I allowed my mind to drift back to the moment in the clearing when Brand had grabbed my shirt. He’d almost touched me, and it had felt like a warm, syrupy ray of sunlight was running over my skin near his hand.
What would it have felt like if my shirt had shifted, if his massive hand had closed around my bare arm, or my shoulder…
My stomach clenched again, the way it had when Finnick and I had been fighting. What was happening to me? I’d lived almost twenty years without feeling that… whatever the other girls talked about. I’d tried touching myself plenty of times to see if I could have an orgasm—hell, I’d read an article about it in some weird human magazine someone had left in the dining hall that practically gave step-by-step instructions. But I’d never felt anything amazing.
For some reason, the thought of Finnick, and Brand, and even that angel-guy Glen, made it seem like a good idea to give it another try.
Fuck it. Why not?
I reached down, my hands skating across my thighs, moving soft and slow over the hair at the junction of my legs. Opening them the tiniest bit, I let a finger explore for a moment. At first, it wasn’t any different than before, but then for some reason, Brand’s massive form popped into my mind.
Brand, with those big hands holding me, wrapping around my thighs, keeping me still. His finger, much bigger than mine, reaching down and spreading me open, finding my slit. Those dark eyes going liquid and sweet as he murmured for me to relax, to open to him, to give him my pleasure. Whispering words of praise, telling me what a beautiful, sweet, perfect woman I was. How he’d devour me, if I just let him in.
I widened my legs and used my own hands to play the part of Brand in the fantasy, at last feeling the sensation the magazine had described. The pulsing intensity, the waves that crashed and receded, and grew again… until after how long, ten minutes? I didn’t know; it became almost unbearable. My heart raced, my breath stuttering.
But I didn’t stop circling my clit, moving my fingers as the pleasure spiraled higher.
In my mind, Brand was naked, his chest covered with dark hair, his scent musk and salt, holding me down, sliding his fingers over my flesh, touching me lightly, and then deeper. Almost… almost…
Then my mind skipped like a stone over a still pond, and it was Finnick instead of Brand. Those soft, full lips moving on my clit, his cheeks smooth on my thighs, his tongue delving closer, deeper, sending me higher…
Until at last, Glen joined in, pinching my breasts, one hand reaching around my throat, grasping gently but firmly as his friends plundered my body…
I shouted his name as the sensations overtook me. “Glen!”
My pulse was still pounding in my ears as I heard his voice answer me. “Fuck, yes.”
That voice wasn’t in my mind. My eyes flew open, and I stood so fast that I felt dizzy, disoriented. “What the hell? What the hell are you doing here?” I scrambled for my clothes, but they were still wet, and I struggled to get them on, the sleeves sticking to my wet skin.
“I’m not looking,” Glen insisted from the shadow of the woods.
“How do I know that, you creep?!” I screamed, my voice high. Like a girl’s.
Well, it was too late to keep up the boy pretense. He’d seen the show. My first show. That douchenozzle. My fists balled up as I thought about pounding his perfect face into a bloody pulp.
“I swear on my pack’s honor, I’m not looking. Not now,” he added.
“What kind of an asswipe watches a girl masturbate?” I almost choked on the final word. “For the first time in her life,” I whispered.
I was so humiliated. Ashamed.
“Oh shit,” he said softly, but not so softly I didn’t hear. Fucking shifter hearing.
I tried not to let out a sob. Males had taken so much from me. My mother, my childhood, any sense of safety or belonging in my own pack, and now this… My first time feeling like maybe I wasn’t abnormal. Maybe I could feel normal girl things, and no one would hurt me.
And now this stranger had taken that as well.
I felt a sob burst out before I could stop it. And another. Fucking weakness. I knew better than to cry, to be vulnerable, in front of a predator. A male.
“By the moon, Wills.” Glen’s voice sounded as raw as I felt. “Please forgive me. I didn’t mean to see you. I couldn’t… I should have looked away. Gone back.”
Suddenly, he was in front of me, next to me. I crab walked back, but he wasn’t looking at me. His face was averted, his gaze on the ground, oddly… submissive? Submitting to me, an unranked girl? It had to be some kind of trick.
