Marvel has Katniss held captive

Not far away from where Peeta was being held captive, Katniss is also tied up.

Her blue eyes flutter open, her vision blurry and unfocused. She blinks rapidly, trying to clear the fog from her mind as she takes in her surroundings. She's tied to a tree, her arms bound behind her back, her ankles secured with thick rope. The rough bark digs into her skin, leaving angry red welts in its wake. It’s almost karma… she think to herself. Tied up the same way she left the district three boy.

Marvel looms over her, his face contorted with a cruel grin. He reaches out, his fingers trailing down her cheek in a mockery of tenderness.

“About time,” he purrs, his voice low and menacing. “I was starting to think you'd never wake up.”

Katniss tries to jerk away from his touch, her body recoiling in disgust. But the ropes hold her fast, leaving her at his mercy.

“Where's Peeta?” she demands, her voice hoarse and raspy. “What have you done with him?”

Marvel laughs, a harsh, grating sound that sends shivers down her spine. “Oh, your little boyfriend is just fine,” he says, his eyes gleaming with malice. “He's having a little fun with Clove right now. I'm sure he's enjoying every minute of it.”

Katniss's heart clenches at the thought of Peeta being used, abused, by the Careers. She can only imagine what they're doing to him, how they're violating him in ways she can't even bear to think about. She strains against her bonds, her muscles burning with the effort. But it's no use. The ropes are too tight, too secure. She's trapped, helpless, just like Peeta is.

Marvel leans in close, his breath hot against her ear. "You know, I've been watching you," he whispers, his voice dripping with dark promise. “Watching the way you move, the way you fight. You're a fierce little thing, aren't you? I bet you'd put up quite a struggle if I decided to have my way with you.”

Katniss breath catches in her throat as she feels Marvel's hand sliding up her shirt, his fingers brushing against the sensitive skin of her stomach. She shudders, her body recoiling at his touch, but she forces herself to remain still, to play along with his sick game.

“Is that what you want, Marvel?” she asks, her voice low and sultry. “To have your way with me, to take what you want without asking?”

She tilts her head back, meeting his gaze with a challenging look. She can see the hunger in his eyes, the way his pupils dilate with desire. She knows she's playing with fire, but she has ****. She has to do whatever it takes to get out of this, to save herself and Peeta.

Marvel's hand moves higher, his fingers skimming the underside of her breast. Katniss bites her lip, suppressing the urge to scream, to fight back. Instead, she arches into his touch, a soft moan escaping her lips.

“Maybe I do want that,” Marvel growls, his voice rough with lust. “Maybe I want to see you begging for my big cock.”

His other hand moves to her hair, tangling in the dark strands as he pulls her head back, exposing the smooth column of her throat. Katniss's heart pounds, her skin prickling with fear and revulsion.

But she knows she can't show it, can't let him see how much he's affecting her. So she tilts her head further, offering herself up to him like a sacrifice. Shes playing a risky game, but she has no other choice. She has to do whatever it takes to get out of this situation, to save herself and Peeta.

Everything she’s heard about Marvel revolves around his ego.

“You know,” she purrs, her voice low and seductive, “I've been wondering something. Is it true what they say about you, Marvel? That you're... lacking in certain areas?”

Marvel's eyes narrow, his grip on her hair tightening painfully. “What are you talking about, you little bitch?”

Katniss smiles, a slow, wicked curve of her lips. “Oh, come on. Don't tell me you haven't heard the rumors. They say you're compensating for something, that you're... small.”

“Prove me wrong, Marvel. Show me what you're really made of. Or are you too scared to measure up?”

Marvel's face contorts with rage, his free hand balling into a fist. For a moment, Katniss thinks he might hit her, might lash out in a fit of ****. But then, slowly, his expression shifts, a cruel smile spreading across his face.

“You want to see what I'm made of, little bird?” he growls, his hand moving to the waistband of his pants. “I'll show you. I'll show you exactly what you're dealing with.”

Katniss's heart races, her stomach churning with a mix of fear and revulsion. But she forces herself to hold his gaze, to meet his challenge head-on.

“That's what I thought,” she says, her voice dripping with disdain. “You're all talk, Marvel. Just like all the other boys in the district. Big and tough on the outside, but soft and weak where it counts.”

Marvel's hand pauses, his fingers hovering just above the zipper of his pants. Katniss can see the doubt in his eyes, the way her words have struck a nerve.