Page 44 of Wicked Prince of Carnage
After a long while, the door unlocked and opened to Winter. He ran a hand through his hair and stepped inside. His chest and feet were bare, his trousers hung low, a trail of dark hair just below his naval led down into the waistband. He wore a wooden necklace with an engraved pendant against his sternum.
His slitted gaze met hers and inspected her from head to toe. “Remove your boots.”
She arched a brow. “Is that all you’d like me to remove, Your Highness?”
“For the time being,” he drawled and waited until she was finished setting the footwear aside. “Now come.”
Sterling walked beside him down the steps, his desirable scent brushing her senses.
“So, are you going to ask how I slept in your bed last night?” she asked to break the silence.
“No.” His fists clenched at his sides as if he were controlling himself, and she smiled.
“I didn’t only sleep naked in your bed—I touched myself to orgasm while moaning into your pillow,” she purred.
“Silence. You’ll speak only when I tell you to speak,” he growled.
Something was off about him, more so than usual. And it must’ve had to do with him being at this castle. Perhaps the reminder of his mother.
Sterling held her tongue and followed him through the back entrance into the forest of trees. They walked out of hearing distance from the castle walls when a large field slipped into view. Torches lit the night, and at the field’s center, a bright bonfire crackled.
At least forty wolves stood around the fire, their faces turning toward the prince and Sterling as they stopped at the outer circle. She took in the shifters, their clothing similar in style to hers, noting that none were the king. Where was he?
“You may begin,” Winter called, his tone one of boredom.
Drums pounded, and two wolves stepped out from the crowd. A gown of ivory draped the woman’s curvy form, and the man wore dark trousers, a necklace matching Winter’s hanging around his neck. The couple smiled brilliantly at one another, peeling off the two simple layers of their clothing. Their canines slipped out, the only wolfish part of them showing beneath the orange glow of the fire. The man circled his arm around the woman’s waist and carefully brushed her hair aside before biting her shoulder. She gasped in pleasure, and he licked the beads of blood clean with his tongue. The woman took her turn, piercing his flesh, giving him her mate bite. With a satisfied grin, he scooped the woman up and lay her on the grass while the drums grew more violent, a sound that Sterling could feel crashing through her blood.
And then the wolf buried himself into his lover as an animalistic moan escaped her. Heat pooled low in Sterling’s body as she became a voyeur and watched on, the fucking hard and fast. The man easily flipped the woman to all fours and continued to thrust into her. Sterling glanced at the prince who observed them as though he was witnessing two people discussing how their day was.
Once the couple howled in pleasure, they stood, their chests heaving while they waited for something. A few moments later, three forms slipped through the trees—the king, trailed by two other men she’d briefly seen when dusting Winter’s manor. General Rawling and Caston.
Sterling’s eyes widened at King Valco, whose face was even more attractive in person than in his portraits. He didn’t appear the least bit ill, his body muscular and lithe like his son’s. His obsidian hair, holding streaks of gray, hung in thick waves down his back, and his eyes glowed with their own cruelty.
She caught Winter staring at her, and anger churned within his gaze. “Are you planning to ask the king if you can fuck him for your freedom too?” he cooed, sounding as if he didn’t give a damn.
Sterling startled, her lips parting, but she remained quiet as King Valco’s deep baritone reverberated through the crowd. “I bless this couple as the gods would.” He dipped his thumb into a cup of some sort of blood and pressed it between the man’s brow first, then the woman’s. “And now we celebrate.”
Valco’s dark eyes found his son—a smirk played on his lips before his stare fell on Sterling. He sauntered toward her, and her heart thundered. She didn’t know if he would reveal his claws and rip her heart out right there. The prince wanted Sterling to play another game, but the king could easily take that away.
“Red Riding Hood,” he purred. “We meet at last.”
She bowed her head, her voice a murmur, “Your Majesty.”
“It seems my son has chosen to keep you as a pet,” he said gruffly. “That’s not something I approve of. You should either perish in my dungeons or die by my hand. So tell me, why do you deserve to live?”
“I-I didn’t know my grandmother was a hunter,” Sterling stuttered. “The wolves came when I was there and slaughtered her as revenge for killing the queen. If I had known my grandmother murdered her, that she was a hunter at all, I wouldn’t have become Red Riding Hood. I’m at your service.” It could’ve been the truth, but it could’ve also been a lie—she really didn’t know how she would’ve reacted back then or what path she would’ve truly chosen. Either way, it was better she didn’t reveal anything except regret for her brother’s sake.
“Ah, I understand how you got that pretty scar and the reason for your confusion now. My wicked son is at fault for keeping you in the dark.” Valco chuckled mirthlessly. “Hedidn’t mention anyone else had been there when he avenged his mother. However, I suppose both wolves and humans have suffered over the centuries. Unlike my son, I see you as a way to strengthen the court.” He paused, looking between her and the prince with a devious glint in his eyes. “The wolves look up to the royals, but the humans look up to Red Riding Hood. You can understand why that’s a problem. There are two ways to mend this—one, you die.” He paused and tilted his head slightly. “Since you’re the granddaughter of hunter royalty, it could make you a martyr, so I prefer the second option. As a prize for winning my son’s games, you and Prince Winter will unite the Bloodstorm Court. Two nights from now, we’ll have a fine feast in your honor where you and the prince will have a mating ceremony of your own.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
WINTER
“How do you feel about that, son?” Winter’s father asked, amusement dancing in his stare.
Winter’s jaw tightened. “There are other ways to unite the court.” He wanted to fuck Sterling, but to mate with her? Not once had he fucking considered that.
“You’ll do as I say, or you’ll be the one to kill Red Riding Hood in front of the court. Make no mistake either—if that happens, it will be widely known that you’re the reason the wolves and humans couldn’t come together for peace.” His father smirked.
