CHAPTER EIGHT #2
“No.” Winter backed out of the cell. For the moment, he’d only wanted to know if Cyan was aware of Sterling’s secret life.
He still wasn’t completely certain, but he could press him harder later.
After Sterling was dealt with. “Not unless you behave,” he added as an incentive for him to remain cooperative.
It lessened the chance of anyone damaging him while he was still useful.
“Thank you, I promise I’ll behave,” Cyan whispered, then said hurriedly, “Will you bring a few sheets of paper? I would like to make you something.”
Winter arched a brow. If he was attempting to make a weapon, it wouldn’t do much more than a paper cut.
However, he was slightly curious as to what the boy would fashion from paper.
“I’ll see.” He latched the cell again before striding out of the cellar as Cyan whimpered.
The guard stood at the top of the stairs beside Micah when Winter emerged.
“Have him fed, provide a chamber pot, and get him a blanket,” the prince ordered the guard.
“Well?” Micah asked after the guard left. “The mite know anything?”
“I can’t be certain, but I didn’t bring him back for information.” Not entirely. He motioned for Micah to follow him toward his room. “Tell me how the castle prison is fairing?”
Micah simply shrugged. “Full, as usual.” The prince’s father often locked up wolves, then chose to forget about them.
Winter had told Sterling that the games would begin tomorrow night, but he hadn’t told any of his packmates yet.
They’d be just as eager for his plan to start as he was.
It was the perfect way to show off Sterling and take care of the full prison.
He needed the space for wolves he would inevitably capture.
Only everything had to be done in a way that wasn’t an obvious challenge to his father’s authority if the bastard survived.
The king’s general—Rawling—and Caston guarded over him, never leaving him alone as he lay in bed.
Not even the prince would be able to slip him poison if he decided to.
His father wouldn’t discover Red Riding Hood had been found until he regained consciousness. If he did.
“Bring two dozen human prisoners here at first light,” he instructed. “Put them in the cells, but not with the boy. I can’t have them killing him on me.”
“Two dozen criminals? Here?” Micah released a disgusted noise in the back of his throat. “Why?”
“I told you I was going to make her death a spectacle, didn’t I?” Winter said, and paused in front of his bedroom door. “Now, lower her cage.”
Micah nodded and followed behind the prince into the room.
Sterling leaned against the back of the cage, her arms folded over her chest.
As Micah handled the chains, Sterling grabbed the bars so hard her knuckles turned white, her face red with fury. “He’s not touching me again,” she spat.
“Do you prefer my touch, then?” Winter drawled.
She’d enjoyed her own touch well enough.
He’d almost hated to interrupt Sterling pleasuring herself, but it was much more fun to deny her the release.
Then she’d offered to fuck him to get herself out of the situation… As if Winter could be so easily swayed.
“I’ll fuck you to release my brother.” Her voice came out desperate, and he could hear the distaste in her words.
“Again, tempting. However, I go to the brothel for that.” Winter smirked.
“I’ll take her.” Micah let go of the chain. “She may have a ruined face, but she has nice tits.”
“No.” Winter bristled when his wolf growled. She was his prisoner to do with as he pleased, no one else’s. “Have someone send up a plate of roast duck with all the sides.”
“Of course.” Micah’s stare lingered on Sterling a little too long before leaving.
Silence fell over the room now that they were alone again, her gaze focused on the door as if it would reopen. Winter shifted into her line of sight, his finger curling around one of the bars. He wanted her attention—all of it.
“Do you like my packmate, human?” he drawled. “Is it the scar he gave you that you adore? Feel a kinship with him, do you?”
She huffed. “I feel like I need to take a piss.”
“That’s a shame.” Winter strolled around the cage, taking her in from every angle. Now that he knew the truth, he could see the signs of a skilled archer. A lined scar on her left forearm that looked to be from the slap of a bowstring, raised pads of her fingertips, sculpted arms and shoulders.
Obvious or not, Winter was the one to come across her. Something his father hadn’t accomplished. Had he gone out searching for her under his father’s orders without finding any trace? Yes. But now the prince was in charge. This happened under his rule, and he had to use that to his advantage.
Deep down he knew the deaths of the wolves were on his hands.
He was the one who’d had a weak moment, chosen to let Sterling go following her grandmother’s death.
Perhaps he should’ve let his wolves kill her that day.
If he had, they would’ve been alive now.
His nostrils flared at the thought—nothing could bring them back.
So he would relish watching her suffer during his game.
A smirk graced Winter’s lips as he edged away from the cage, pulling off his tunic.
“At least one of us can get comfortable in here,” Sterling muttered.
Winter glanced at her over his shoulder. “You can remove your clothing anytime you’d like. I won’t stop you.”
“Hmph.”
He kicked off his boots and stepped out of his trousers. She didn’t shy away from the sight of his ass, though her gaze had flicked briefly to the tattoo on his back.
Once Winter slipped on a clean pair of trousers, he reclined on the mattress. He propped a hand beneath his head and turned on his side to face Sterling. “I visited your brother.”
She inhaled a sharp breath. “What did you do to him?”
“You’ve seen how I treat my enemies.” He shrugged a shoulder.
“I swear to the gods if you—”
“You’ll what?” The most she could do was scream at him, and he’d be damned if he let that bother him. “Break out of that cage and end my life like you did my other wolves? Remember, you had a second chance.”
A knock came at the door, and he called out, “Enter.”
Amalli, a servant, came in with a large silver tray. Her blonde hair was bound in a tight bun, and black swirling tattoos crept up the back of her neck. “The dinner you requested, Your Highness.”
He gestured for her to set it down on his bedside table. Amalli used to cater to his mother, and it was one of the reasons he kept her around. She also obeyed better than any of the other wolves working for the court.
“Do you require anything else, Your Highness?” Amalli asked.
“No, this is all for now,” he said and lifted the top of the serving dish. The savory scent of duck and rosemary potatoes smothered in gravy filled the room.
When Amalli left, he placed a small potato into his mouth. The hint of blood still caked around his fingernails added a bitter, metallic taste to the savory flavors. He grabbed the goblet of mead and washed it down.
“I’m thirsty,” Sterling reminded him.
Winter took an extra-large sip and eyed her over the rim of the goblet.
She scowled. “Do you plan to kill me by denying me water?”
“Don’t give me any ideas.” He ripped a piece of the duck apart and ate it slowly while she watched. The sound of her stomach rumbling made his smile spread. “You’re hungry too, it seems.”
“Isn’t that obvious?”
“I could be tempted to share,” he offered carefully. “Perhaps with your brother.”
“If you—” she breathed.
“If I feed him?” Winter speared a potato with his unused fork and rose from the bed to approach her.
He hovered in front of her cage before gingerly pushing the utensil between the bars so the food was in front of her mouth.
When she didn’t move to eat it, he twisted the fork between his fingers.
“Is this not up to your standards? Your brother looks as if he’s been surviving off gruel, but royal food isn’t good enough? ”
Sterling smacked the potato out of her face and it flew off the fork, landing beside her. “Leave Cyan alone.”
“It seems to me that you should’ve thought more about him before you decided to become a hunter.” He leered at her. “Now… Tomorrow night, I’m enacting an old pack tradition, and you’re participating.”
“Excuse me?”
“You against two dozen humans. The sole survivor earns their freedom. In the extremely unlikely chance you win, your brother goes free. For obvious reasons, I can’t let you go, but I’m sure you understand that.
” If she did survive, she would remain an ornament in his room.
Would she offer to fuck him a third time to gain her own freedom?
As his gaze drifted to her full lips, his wolf purred.
He would deny her, of course. Fucking Red Riding Hood would be treason against himself.
“You’re pitting me against two dozen humans? How is that fair?”
He licked the gravy from the fork and chuckled. “It’s not.”