Literary Lovers Mash-Up: Katniss Everdeen & Jace Wayland

We are sharing entries from our second-annual Literary Lovers Mash-Up Writing Contest — which offered you the chance to combine two romantic heroics from different books. We’ll be featuring all of the qualifying stories over the next few days, so check back periodically for all of these great submissions! Participants will also be receiving a set of Novel Novice bookmarks!

Today we have Becca R.’s story, featuring Katniss from The Hunger Games and Jace from The Mortal Instruments:

Her hand cracked across his face, hard. A trail of fire flamed where her hand hit, but Jace didn’t feel the pain. Instead, he felt the heat leaking into his skin, melting away the frozen mask he often wore. Before he could grab her wrist, Katniss darted swiftly away.

She slipped into a hunter’s crouch as he began to circle her slowly. Their feet moved silently across the floor.

The edges of his lips slipped upward as they continued their dance. The tempo increased as their heartbeats began to quicken.

“All right, Wayland,” she hissed, cursing the exposed skin she felt where her quiver of arrows should be. Her fingers itched without her bow grasped between them. The reasons she had concocted learning to fight without them now seemed trivial. Should she learn to fight without her arm next, she thought furiously.

While she argued with herself, Jace took a step forward. The gap between them was sliced in half. She parried his step, trying to regain the edge with distance, but her extended fingertips skimmed the wall. They traced the patterns of the seraphim painted there. Her eyes turned back to the angelic boy across from her and panic flared in her eye. It was the call of cornered prey which no hunter could miss.

Jace was a hunter.

Her body reacted before she processed his moves. His white hand shot past her face and the dark runes traced across it looked like ink streaked on a blank page. She slipped sideways, her feet veering instinctively toward the door. The back of his knees buckled under the kick she landed, forcing him to the ground. He gasped in surprise. He hadn’t really taken her seriously until now.

“Too afraid to fight?” she growled, her voice smoldering, “Or are you too used to playing with girls who won’t fight back?” The feral sneer she wore only made him want her more.

He chuckled coldly, straightening again, and his eyes warned her to back away. She stepped closer. Leaning on the balls her feet, she taunted him by waving her hand a precarious distance from his face. His words were frosted with malice, “You’re going to regret that, sweetheart.”

There was no blocking him this time. His arms, an iron cage, wrapped around her and locked her against his chest. Pushing against her, they were soon pressed against the wall. A small cherub statue stabbed Katniss’s left shoulder. She struggled against him.

Pinned against wall, she felt his resistance melt. Her aggression turned into something that held her. His iron grip melted in the heat that formed between them. Her eyes locked with his, fanning the flames of his desire. This skin burned where her hands touched him. He leaned down and pressed his forehead against the soft curtain of her hair.

She tilted her head toward him, and breathing the words “I win,” pressed her lips to his. They melted together, fire and ice, intertwined.

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