Page 26 of Wicked Prince of Carnage
A man lay on the ground, gasping for air beneath the moonlight, as blood flowed freely from a wound on his thigh, the scarlet soaking through his trousers. His hands shook whilegrabbing at the dirt, and red bubbles foamed in the corners of his mouth. Wintertsked, scanning the area for someone more worthy of watching.Sterling.
No one else lingered in the area though. The woman who’d screamed a few moments ago must’ve been attacked further in the forest. Somewhere hidden in the trees. Winter slid back from the edge and worked his way around the perimeter, looking between the shoulders of raucous wolves as they drank. There was barely anything worth seeing at the moment.
A flash of movement from the people below, a scream, then another. Men, not Sterling. The rancid scent of human blood filled the night and his scowl deepened.
Around and around, Winter prowled the perimeter of the enclosure. He cursed the foliage, then himself for not having someone thin it before the game began. This place hadn’t been used in decades—not since his father built a larger one near the castle. Winter had grown up watching wolves tear other wolves and humans apart for sport, but then he’d left the castle to live in his manor. Where it was quiet and untamed in the woods. Before, he’d only summered here as a child, maiming his way through the forest, taking pleasure in murdering humans who crossed into his boundaries. It was then, as a child, that he’d written his name in the heart of the townsfolk—written it in fear.
Now, he was reminding them of that.
He was remindingherof that.
Not that it made much difference if Sterling recalled his violent abilities, considering she’d be dead soon enough. Which was what he wanted, wasn’t it? Sterling dead, her family line one step closer to ending. Another hunter gone. He squinted in search of any hint of her red cloak but saw nothing. With a disappointed sigh, he slipped back down the ladder.
“Not enjoying the show?” Caston asked from the shadows of a large elm.
“Aren’t you supposed to be watching over my father?” Why was this bastard here? If any wolf should’ve been dead by Sterling’s bow, he would’ve liked it to be him.
“General Rawling is with him,” he continued in his nasally voice. “I wasn’t expecting you to host any games.”
“No?” Winter turned slowly to face him, keeping his expression neutral. “Why wouldn’t I?”
Caston scowled. “You’ve been here for years and haven’t bothered.”
“I wouldn’t want to pull the attention away from the games my father hosts.” Winter shrugged. “But now…”
“Now that your father is fighting for his life.”
Winter scoffed. “Don’t be so dramatic, Caston. Even if he’s knocking on death’s door, no one seems to be answering.”
A screech rose from the enclosure, too scratchy to be Sterling, and Winter smiled. It seemed death was answeringsomeone…
“You have no idea how well your father is doing,” Caston chided. “You haven’t visited him.”
Winter shot forward and grabbed him by the front of his shirt. “Donotspeak to me as if you hold any power in Bloodstorm. The moment my father dies, you’ll be serving him in the After.”
Caston paled. “I only meant—”
“I don’t care what you meant.” Winter shoved the man away. He hadn’t needed to visit his father—he had people to inform him if the bastard was still alive. “Scurry back to the king’s bedside while the wolves and I have our entertainment.”
The crowd was rowdier now, drunker. As if on cue, a male fell from the wall beside Winter. He landed with a thud on his back and burst out in hysterical laughter. The prince raised his eyebrow at Caston in a silent confirmation of how much fun everyone was having.
The king’s advisor gave a slow, sarcastic bow and wove through the forest toward the manor. Winter released a heavy breath, shifting his gaze back toward the enclosure. Another scream pierced through the trees, and his heart leapt. That one … it could’ve been Sterling…
Above, the crowd howled wildly. Had Winter missed it? The glorious,dreadedmoment of her death. The wolves gave a collective groan as if the woman screaming had escaped her demise. Winter stalked toward the enclosure’s entrance. Wolves weren’t meant to be within the game’s premise once it officially started, but if anyone was going to break the rules, it would be the prince.
Slipping inside, Winter slunk about the shadows. The stench of death permeated the area as he headed toward the denser trees where he could lurk. The dead body from earlier was still in the same place, and another bald man was sprawled out behind a bush. Drag marks scarred the path, implying someone had purposely hidden his body.
Winter lazily stepped over the bare foot that protruded from the hiding place and sniffed the air. Death assaulted his senses. He wanted to find Sterling, watch her meet her demise. Only then would he be absolved from her. She’d made his life a spectacle, and he was only returning the favor. No matter that, for an instant, he craved to hear how she sounded when she orgasmed. A thing he’d interrupted in her cottage when she’d touched herself. He knew he could make her come from his fingers.Fuck. This momentary infatuation was why she needed to die…
Winter scanned the trees, the shrubbery, the fallen logs, for any hint of red. The moon offered little light, but it was even darker beneath the trees where the torchlight didn’t reach.
A pair of humans—a man and woman, blood splattering their faces, lunged out at him with their daggers. Winter sidesteppedthem, his lips curled in disgust. They must not have recognized him … or they were complete imbeciles.
Winter bared his teeth, grabbed the woman’s arm, and snapped it. She screeched in pain and dropped her dagger. Not missing a breath, the prince gripped the weapon with his free hand and slammed the blade into her neck. Hot blood spurted against his hand and cheek. She crumpled to the ground at the same time the man darted away. Winter licked her blood from where it landed at the corner of his lips and turned to follow his movement. He held his wolf back from unleashing as the animal clawed inside him.
Not so fast…
The dagger flew from his hand, spinning over itself in an expert arch, until it hit the man in the center of his back. The man fell forward with a grunt. Per his own rules, this was interference in his game, but he couldn’t simply let their attack on him go. The human released a final groan as the prince walked away to continue his search for Sterling. How many humans were left? He couldn’t kill themall…
