Page 41 of Wicked Prince of Carnage
“Yes?” he asked as he flung the door open.
“I thought you’d like to know Red Riding Hood and her teammate won the game,” Amalli informed him. Then, “The king is waiting for you.”
Relief washed through him that Sterling was still alive, but trepidation quickly took its place. “Prepare her a bath then,” Winter said and brushed past her. He didn’t miss the small smile curling her lips. Amalli had done well, always obeyed him. Now that Micah was dead, he needed someone to replace him, and he would give her a chance.
He didn’t knock on his father’s door—this washishome, after all. “You wanted to see me?” Winter asked, then stilled.
The king sat on the edge of the bed, shoulders squared, spine straight. Even the color had returned to his face.Damn it.
“Your games are as weak as you are,” the king taunted. Years of verbal abuse left him feeling completely unbothered by the jab.
“I believe the dead wolves would say otherwise.” Winter tsked.
“You continue to be a failure,” the king spat. “Micah was found dead in the enclosure. And there are whispers that someone saw your mate sneak in on the last game.”
“Talia isn’t my mate.” He shrugged. “She’s yours to fuck whenever you wish.”
“I’ve tired of her.” The king gave a mirthless laugh. “Forget about her for now. Tomorrow night we’re hosting a mating ceremony for two of my wolves. You’ll attend with the human so I will formally meet the infamous Red Riding Hood.”
“Of course.” Winter kept his expression masked, even though his father was up to something. Not once had a human ever attended a mating ceremony.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
STERLING
Moonlight illuminated the forest, its silver light casting sweeping shadows across the leaf-covered ground. Sterling slowly breathed as she skirted around anything that could make a sound.
Her teammate slinked beside her, then pointed a mud-covered paw to his right. She lifted her bow higher, catching a glimpse of something white near a large flowering bush, and released an arrow just as a massive gray wolf leapt toward them. The arrow whirred through the air before striking the shifter between its golden eyes. The wolf howled, and as she nocked another arrow, her teammate’s teeth clamped around the other wolf’s throat with a sickening crunch. He shook the shifter against the ground while tearing deeper into its throat. With one feral yank, her teammate tore open the wolf’s throat, deep crimson spilling out against the dirt.
“Final one,” Sterling said, her chest heaving. “We won.”
Even though her teammate had sniffed out each dead wolf, counting them as they hunted, the guards at the wall needed to confirm the death toll.
Micah had been one of the first bodies found, and a guard had gone to the manor to inform the prince and King Valco that an arrow wound had been in his back, his neck broken. She’d wanted to end his life on her own, but at least the bastard was dead.
Winter had not only helped her out of a trap, he’d murdered a member of his own pack. There hadn’t been an ounce of remorse in his dark gaze as he’d snapped Micah’s neck. And now, since he’d helped her, Cyan wouldn’t gain his freedom. Perhaps the prince had done it on purpose during both games as a reasonto never let her brother go and force her to continue being his spectacle. It was all a charade to believe she would eventually win on her own.
“It looks as though you two did indeed win,” Lijah said while handing Sterling and her teammate glasses of water. She chugged the cool liquid down and her teammate sat beside her against the stone wall in his human form, bare as a babe.
“I don’t even know your name,” her teammate said, setting his empty glass beside him.
“Sterling.” She paused for a moment before asking, “And you?” It was something they should’ve already exchanged. He could’ve easily ended her life and still won, but he hadn’t. And neither had she.
“Pathal.”
“Nice to meet you.” She smiled, then thought about the five wolves she’d killed tonight and wondered what their crimes had been. Not a hint of regret clenched her chest. Before being held captive, killing had been about revenge, and now, it was about survival. “What crime got you into this mess?”
He ran a hand over his bald head. “I stole coin from one of the royal guards.”
“Is it a tragic reason?” She thought about her grandmother, the catapult on why her revenge had begun. And then her mother, the trigger that had led Sterling on a journey to her grandmother.
“Tragic to me.” Pathal winked. “I lost money gambling and wanted to have another round so I would have enough for a pleasurable night with a harlot.”
She snickered. “Tragic indeed.”
He smirked. “Very much so. Jesabelle could fuck like a goddess.”
“Just don’t steal coin this time before seeing her.” She smiled. “And thank you for watching my back out there.”
