Page 24 of Wicked Prince of Carnage
Winter prowled closer to the cage, his blue-eyed gaze holding hers.
Sterling scowled. “Why are you looking at me as though you’re studying an animal?”
“Besides the color of your irises, Cyan looks nothing like you,” Winter pointed out and stepped back while continuing to study her.
“Because we have different fathers.”You fool.
A line formed between his brows. “And where are they?”
“My mother didn’t know who they were. That happens when one is forced into giving pleasure for coin as their only option to survive. And you very much know the fate of our grandmother.”
Winter narrowed his eyes. “Andyouknow what she did tomymother.”
There was no need to rehash the past again this morning. Perhaps death was owed to her grandmother, but that didn’t make her hate the Prince of Carnage any less.
She lifted her arm and took a whiff, feeling the layers of grime and dirt caking her skin. “Can I at least take a bath?”
“No,” he said simply.
Sterling massaged the back of her neck. “What about letting me out to stretch?”
“Let’s not be hasty now.” He chuckled, his face returning to his neutral expression as if he were angry with himself for letting amusement slip from his lips. “Too many wolves have died by your hand. The cage is your primary quarters until the day you die.”
“And when will that be? Assuming I win this game.”
“However long you live.” Winter held her gaze for a long moment, and whatever he felt was hidden in the depths of his eyes. If she murdered Winter, would her emotional wounds heal completely? No, but it would make her feel better.
Without a word, Winter entered his bathing chamber, the sound of running water filling a tub echoing. Envy crawled through her that he could clean himself while she suffered in a cage and worried over whether her brother was being treated properly.
As the water swished when he must’ve sunk into the liquid’s depths, Sterling was reminded that the prince was nude—how he’d easily undressed in front of her the previous day, the sight of the royal tattoo she’d seen so long ago accompanied by his firm buttocks, and how badly she wanted to kick him right in the rear. Tonight she would make certain Cyan was safe, and then the Prince of Carnage could do with her as he wished.
After long minutes ticked by, Winter emerged from the bathing chamber and ran a hand through his wet locks, trails of water gliding down his neck and bare chest. He’d only dressed introusers and boots, not even sparing her a glance as he left the room.
For the remainder of the day, Sterling stared out the window, imagining she was walking beside Cyan while he folded a sheet of paper into a dragon. She wouldn’t let Winter notice she enjoyed looking at the forestry when he returned or he might close the curtains. She’d been brought two meals by the female servant, Amalli, and the guard, Lijah. Neither treated her unwell or called her names as Micah had.
“It’s time, bitch,” Micah ground out as the door opened and he stepped into the room. Sterling’s fortune of the day had finally started its downward spiral.
A musky smell radiated off him when he inched closer and hit the bars of her cage with his large hand. She remained silent while he opened the iron door to yank her out, his hand squeezing her wrist. “How about a quick fuck before you die?”
No longer could she hold back her temper. He’d been the one to scar her, to give her grandmother the final death blow. “How about I cut off your cock and feed it to the other wolves?” Sterling spat.
A hand struck her cheek harshly, and she tasted blood in her mouth. Before she realized what was happening, Micah was torn from her and Winter slammed him against the wall.
“You don’t touch her,” the prince growled, his teeth bared. “The prisoner is mine if that wasn’t already clear. Know your place, or next time your life is forfeit. Now leave.”
“Of course, Your Highness.” Micah bowed his head and slinked from the room.
Sterling blinked and pressed a hand to her throbbing cheek. She didn’t say thank you, nor did Winter ask if she was all right.
“Come on, human, the game’s starting.” Winter motioned with a finger for her to follow him after collecting a satchel from a drawer.
“You’re not going to bind my wrists?” she asked.
“You won’t run when I have the person you love most.”
The moment of courtesy she’d had from the prince over Micah vanished as soon as he uttered those words. He was her enemy, not a savior.
In the hallway, two tall shirtless guards drew to her sides and Lijah at her back. Her heart started to accelerate as they left the manor, the cool brisk breeze ruffling her hair. The two guards beside her lit lanterns to guide their way. A pebbled trail led them through the forest where the beat of drums began. As the sounds became heavier, Sterling’s heart pounded with both dread and adrenaline. If she died, her brother would remain Winter’s prisoner, and if she lived, Cyan would be safe—winning was her only option.
