Page 30 of Wicked Prince of Carnage
“I’ll behave,” Sterling promised. Winter would never trust her, that was for certain, but she could continue to not fight against him. It had seemed to work somewhat thus far. She thought of Talia, what she’d revealed about Winter. “So … your mate fucked someone else? I’d heard other reasons about why you rejected her.” That didn’t come out as caring as she’d hoped, but that was the best she could do.
The prince scoffed. “Fuck her.” Pain wasn’t in his eyes, only rage swirling in their depths. Even though Winter was clearly a bastard who didn’t deserve a faithful mate, it still didn’t sit right with her.
“That doesn’t sound like you’re over it.”
Winter smirked. “You want to hear how many harlots I’ve fucked since then?” He leaned close, only a hair’s breadth from her. “How many times I’ve made them moan?”
“No, thank you. The village gossips more about your fucking than your cruelty.”
“Finish eating, then bathe,” Winter said, resting the antiseptic on his desk. “If you pass out in the water, don’t expect me to save you again. You’ll drown all on your own.”
She started on a long piece of savory jerky, feeling much improved except for tiredness and the sting of her wounds.
Winter stayed silent as he sat on the bed across from her and carved into a block of wood. Did he treat all his other prisoners like this? Pamper them by tending their wounds and let them clean themselves in his bath, then hang them later?
Plopping the last raspberry into her mouth, she padded to the bathing chamber, where the scent of clovers and embers—Winter’s smell—washed over her. A copper tub rested near a textured stone wall. The others were made of wood, a large wash basin and cabinet against one.
Unfastening her torn cloak, Sterling let it pool to the floor, followed by her blood-stained and dirt-caked clothing. With a heavenly sigh, she slipped down into the warm bath, her aching muscles relaxing into the herbal-infused water. She released a blissful sigh before taking ausedsoap bar, that had most certainly glided across Winter’s naked form, and skated it across her shoulders. She rubbed her skin thoroughly, avoiding the patched area, then washed her hair until all the grime was gone.
Sterling didn’t truly know if she could trust that her brother wasn’t being treated like a prisoner, but thus far, Winter hadn’t lied to her. And even though she hadn’t won the game by her own hand, the prince had still allowed her to advance to a second round in an attempt to free Cyan.
Sterling stepped out from the bath, draped a fluffy towel around her body, and peered down at her filthy clothing.
“I need something to wear,” she called through the door.
“You have clothing,” Winter replied, a smile in his tone.
Sterling frowned and stepped out of the bathing chamber in only her towel. “I’m not putting those bloody things back on.”
Winter peered in her direction, his movements from shaving scraps from the block of wood stalling. His gaze darkened and hungrily swept down her body as her heart thundered. And why wasn’t she wholly loathing it?
“Suit yourself.” Winter shrugged, setting his things on the night table. He stood slowly from the bed and opened her cage. “Get in. I’m tired.”
Sterling blinked incredulously. “You’retired. You weren’t the one running around the forest, murdering people.”
“I killed two of them, remember?”
Sterling huffed, then stepped into the cage. As he locked the gate, she asked, “Can I at least have a pillow?”
“No.” Winter removed his boots and clothing.Naked. She couldn’t take her gaze from his firm buttocks until he was comfortably beneath the covers.Spoiled prince.
Sterling shivered, gooseflesh prickling her legs. She drew the towel from her body and brought her legs to her chest, then covered herself the best she could.
She glanced at the prince one more time, only to find him watching her.
“What?” Sterling snapped, and the prince rolled over while chuckling.
“Up, let’s go,” a woman’s voice said, not entirely harsh.
“Go where?” Sterling cracked open her eyes to find Amalli unlocking her cage, her blonde hair braided into a bun at the nape of her neck.
“You’ve slept through most of the day. The celebration is starting, and the prince asked me to help you get dressed.” Her stare lingered on the towel that had slipped down to Sterling’s stomach. “Seems you need it.”
“A celebration?” Sterling asked, wrapping the towel around her body, still sore from the night before.
“For the game’s conclusion.” Amalli opened the barred door for Sterling to step out of the cage and handed her a jar of salve. “The prince wants you to use this on your stomach.”
Sterling applied the salve to her wound, the ache subsiding. Amalli applied a new bandage before leading her to the bed where a servant’s uniform was laid out. At least it hadn’t been her bloody cloak. Though she wouldn’t have been surprised if it had been.
