Page 28 of Wicked Prince of Carnage
Talia lunged at her and Winter caught his rejected mate around the throat before tossing her to the ground. She inched backward into a tree. As she coughed and sputtered, Winter dragged Sterling away. If everyone was dead, Sterling was accurate in her assumption—she’d won.
Winter’s wolf released a low snarl and tilted his head, just as confused as he was over their conflicting feelings about that fact. It was imperative he got over his fascination with her. And to do that, she still needed to die.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
STERLING
In the distance, the wolves howled and hooted, proving that they were nothing but wild beasts, praising each murder, each death. Slaughter was a sport to them, but perhaps it was to Sterling as well. She hadn’t batted an eyelash while thrusting her blade in the throats and hearts of the four criminals who’d flung themselves at her.
A sharp pain pierced Sterling’s stomach where one of the men had struck her. She was lucky she’d only gained two cuts and a few scratches from brushing against tree limbs while she’d run. But her muscles ached, and her throat was desperate for a drink. Sterling pushed her complaints away so the prince wouldn’t see her struggling.
Before breaking through the trees, she halted her movements, making the prince stumble with her wrists still in his grasp.
“Walk,” Winter said, his voice bored.
When she glanced up at him, he didn’t look the least bit rattled over anything that had happened during the game as though this was just another nightly stroll through the forest.
“This means my brother is free now, right?” Sterling blinked, praying to the gods that this had been enough. “I did win.” Regardless if the prince and his rejected bitch mate had interfered.
“No.” Winter tightened his grip on her wrists and pulled her forward. “It doesn’t.”
“But…” Sterling clenched her teeth, digging her heels into the soft dirt to stop him again. “That’s not fair.”
“The things you did to my wolves weren’t fair.” Winter released her wrists and cocked his head, his blue eyes boring intohers beneath the moonlight. “We’ll have another game and you’ll need to win. On your own.”
“Another game? I didn’t ask that cunt to join this one, so how is that my fault?” She knew she should hold her tongue—the prince could still decide to hang her in front of the village for not properly winning the challenge—but she couldn’t control herself.
“It’s your fault if I say it’s your fault.” He smirked, then sauntered away from her. “Follow me.”
Sterling frowned at his back but obeyed him as she mumbled, “And why were you in the forest anyway?” Talia had given her reason—to murder Sterling—before she scurried off somewhere.
Winter ignored her, and she decided to let it go. He most likely was hoping to get a close view as a blade sliced across her throat.
They stepped out from the trees and the shifters’ cheers ceased, where they stood atop the stone wall, some in wolf form, their eyes glowing beneath the torches. The shifters studied Sterling and Winter as they approached them and the door to the enclosure groaned open. Micah and a few others stepped through the door with curious expressions on their faces.
“Wolves!” Winter shouted once he and Sterling slowed to a stop. He gestured toward her, his stoic look remaining. “We have ourselves a winner well before sunrise. Red Riding Hood.”
Micah’s lips curled in disgust, his piercing gaze raking her over, appearing as though he wanted to do more than strike her across the face. “Kill the bitch anyway.”
Sterling swayed, her strength waning, and she wished she had the energy to hurl herself at the fucking bastard.
“No, not yet.” Winter’s amused gaze met Sterling’s, taunting her that he could expose how she hadn’t won on her own. “She’ll entertain us with another game soon.” He then walked forward, and Sterling followed him once more.
A pit formed in her stomach that she would have to participate in a second round where she just knew she would have another unfair start.
They trekked through the forest in silence, the forest swaying as exhaustion swept over her. The wound at her stomach throbbed harder, and she pressed her palm to it. She needed to sit down, get some water.
She’d grown used to murdering wolves, but never had she killed her own kind. The woman she’d stoned to death, the man she stabbed after he’d tripped her, the next criminal she’d pierced in the eye, the young woman she’d sliced the throat of when she attempted to choke Sterling with her cloak. They were faces that wouldn’t haunt her in her sleep because it had all been for her brother. But now she would have to focus on another game, one she wasn’t sure she would have the time to build her strength back up for.
The manor drew closer, but with each step, it felt a lifetime away. Once inside she could hopefully have something to quench her thirst, then rest and gather her strength.
As they entered Winter’s home, the familiar piney scent of the decor enveloped her. The room spun, nausea swirling within her. With each step, her legs became more weighted. Sterling couldn’t physically hold back any longer and stumbled forward before collapsing to the floor.
A crease formed between Winter’s brows. “Get up, human.”
Sterling pushed to all fours, her legs and arms wobbling. “I can’t,” she croaked.
Winter’s lips parted as he studied her. “You’re bleeding on my floor.”
