Page 8 of Wicked Prince of Carnage
Cyan beamed, his smile bright. “I promise.” He plucked the craft of the boy, abandoning the other paper flowers at the table, and squeezed her with another hug before running outside.
“So,” Nareth drawled once the door shut behind her brother. “You look a little stressed.”
“Always. Come with me. I need to show you a few things for tomorrow.” She didn’t wait for his answer and walked through the door behind the counter to the back. Before she could grasp the apron from the hook on the wall, Nareth’s fingers gently grasped her wrist.
“You need to relax.” By his hard stare, he knew she’d murdered another wolf even though they’d never discussed what she’d been doing.
“I’m not in the mood to fuck.” She sighed. “Perhaps later.” Nareth was her closest friend, and they would find relief in one another at times, had taught each other how to please the opposite sex. She hadn’t taken any other lovers because of Cyan, nor had she chosen to go down the same path her mother had gone even though she could’ve made coin faster by working at the brothel. The thought of having to please Prince Winter made her skin crawl.
Nareth cast his gaze away. “About that… I think it’s better we stop. I met someone…”
Sterling’s eyes widened as he caught her off guard. “Oh! It’s fine.”
He rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks flushed red, appearing shy as he never had before. “Are you all right with it? Our friendship comes first for me, and I don’t want to lose that.”
A grin spread across her cheeks—he deserved this. “Of course. I know how to pleasure myself. She just better not break your heart, or I’ll put an arrow in hers.” Sterling tossed him an apron and handed him a butcher’s knife. “I’m not teasing either. Now tell me about her while we work.”
“I will, but first, I want you to be careful tomorrow.” His gaze fastened onto her scar, his voice low. For the first time he admitted aloud what she’d been doing within the court. “It won’tbe hard for Winter to figure out you’reRed Riding Hoodif you keep creeping closer to him. Perhaps you should leave things alone.”
“If only I could.” As she brought a cleaver down on the dried meat, she imagined it was the prince’s wicked face.
CHAPTER FOUR
WINTER
“How many executions do you think would betoomany?” Winter wondered out loud, his brow arched. He leaned in the wooden tavern chair, rocking on its two back legs as he tapped a finger against the tabletop. Their empty stew bowls were pushed to the side, their steins running low, but the maid serving them had already gone to the town square to watch the public hangings.
Micah snorted. “I’m not sure there’s a limit.”
“We need to maintain a pack, so I can’t kill everyone.” Winter wouldn’t mind thinning out the weak though—those bastards loyal to his father who might cause trouble for him later. “Today will be a good start.”
“Four men sends a message,” Micah admitted. “Though eight would send a stronger one.”
Winter swallowed the last of his mead and slammed the stein down. “There’s plenty of time to add names to the executioner’s list.” Though his father had fallen into an unconscious state and hadn’t woken for weeks, there was no telling if he might simply wake at any moment.
And there was still Red Riding Hood to deal with. Another wolf had turned up dead yesterday with arrow wounds. While the shifter hadn’t been anyone Winter knew personally, he had still been a wolf, and it was a royal’s job to keep their people safe. Winter skimmed a forefinger across his lower lip.The shifters, anyway.It would secure his place among the pack as their leader if he could deal with the bitch in a red cloak.
Winter leaned forward and shoved up from his seat. “I’ll see you back at the manor. Inform General Rawling that the execution is beginning.”
Micah lifted his mead. “Of course.”
Outside, the sun warmed the prince’s face despite the cool autumn morning. He drew in a deep breath and smirked before sauntering down the quiet street. His boots splashed in the rain that had accumulated in the uneven cobbled streets.
Whistling, low and slow, he passed down an alley that led into the town square. Nearly a hundred villagers or more were crowded in front of the new scaffolding, fiddling nervously with their hands or holding children close. Ropes were already strung up, swaying with the slight breeze. Winter ignored the shouts and murmurs as he climbed the stairs.
“A decent turnout,” Winter commented to himself.
A mix of nobles and commoners filled the square, though he was disappointed there weren’t more wolves amongst them. They were the ones he wanted to make a point with since the humans were already terrified of him, exactly as they should be. But the pack needed to view him as their leader, their alpha, with no questions asked.
“Welcome,” he shouted, and the crowd fell silent. Sauntering up to one of the nooses, he trailed a finger along the knot, smirking. “I’m not one for long speeches. We’re all here for the same reason. To watch the wolves that told hunters how to get to the king.Yourking.Myking. An attack on him is an attack on all of Bloodstorm.” If only they’d succeeded in murdering the bastard.
He scanned the crowd, drinking in the heavy silence. As Winter squared his shoulders, face after face watched every move he made. Their fear radiated through the crowd, and he reveled in the power they unknowingly gave him.
The old man with one blue-glazed eye, the young redheaded girl holding her mother’s hand. A foreign nobleman in traditional Moonstone attire donning a large feather in his hat. Two rows away, a woman with brown hair angled at her chin andwearing dark trousers and a green flowing tunic. Scars marred the left side of her attractive face. Brutal. Jagged. As if she’d had a run-in with a wolf. If he’d gotten close enough to such a beautiful woman, he wouldn’t have marked her—at least not with claws. Unless she deserved it. However, it wasn’t a habit of his to leave his victims alive. Maybe once, when he was younger—not anymore. Humans enjoyed revenge too much to grant them mercy.
Red Riding Hood was the prime example. A vigilante. A ghost. And the best hunter Winter had known. If she wasn’t murdering his packmates, he would admire her stealth. As it was, he needed to locate the bitch and hang her in front of the entire town. Nowthatwould draw a crowd of wolves.
He stilled when the scarred woman’s eyes met his, the greenest he’d ever seen.Familiareyes. He knew this human—she haunted his memories. It washer. The girl he’d told to disappear after his pack murdered her grandmother. The only human he’d ever felt real pity for. Even now he felt the connection snap between them, yet she carried the blood of her traitorous family. She looked different than she had that day. Of course she did—she was a woman now. But her braid was gone, her body curvaceous, gaze hardened. His wolf yearned to touch her, tofuck.
