CHAPTER TEN
WINTER
Inside the enclosure a woman’s scream pierced the air. The voice was too rough to belong to Sterling, and relief washed over Winter. It took too much effort to put this game together for it to end so soon, and the pack expected entertainment.
Winter leaned against the outside of the stone wall and folded his arms as the wolves howled and roared from above.
They had climbed iron ladders fastened to the sides of the enclosure and stood on top of the round wall to watch the humans kill each other.
He’d provided all of the prisoners with a single dagger, but he wasn’t sure how good any of them were at wielding them.
They’d selected violent men and women to put in the games, murderers and the like, yet that only meant they wouldn’t hesitate to kill.
He pushed away from the wall and rolled his neck, cracking it. How much skill did it take to stab someone to death? Not much, he supposed. And Sterling was unarmed… He should’ve been elated about it, satisfied that she was an easy target. So why did apprehension nudge at him?
“Your Highness!” Micah called from on top of the wall, his face stained red with excitement. “You’re missing all of the fun.”
Winter offered him a smirk and climbed up a ladder to join the pack.
Wolves lined the wall between torches, some with fur wrapped around their shoulders, others clutching steins in their grasp.
Mead poured over their hands as they cheered and motioned at the forest below.
Winter slid between Micah and Lijah to see what they were shouting about.
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 while grabbing at the dirt, and red bubbles foamed in the corners of his mouth.
Winter tsked, 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 reminding her of 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 answering someone…
“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. “Do not speak 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, dreaded moment 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 sidestepped them, 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 them all…
He shouldn’t be doing this. Shouldn’t be here, searching for her.
The prince belonged on top of the wall, watching with his pack, as Red Riding Hood met her fate, but the waiting grew tiresome.
And that scream… He needed to see her. Alive?
Dead? He wasn’t sure which he hoped to find as long as he put an end to the unknown.
Bracing himself, Winter sniffed the air again. Death, death, and … apples.
The faintest hint of Sterling but also … wolf. A female whose scent called to Winter’s inner beast—a bitch who wasn’t supposed to be here.
The prince wasn’t the only pack member in this enclosure, and he knew exactly which wolf it was. “That fucking cunt,” he snarled.
She was the one other wolf he loathed as much as his father. Talia had no right coming in here to fuck with his plans. If it were up to him, she would’ve been cast out and shunned. Maybe even murdered. But his father blocked all Winter’s attempts at getting rid of her.
Forgetting about Red Riding Hood, Winter followed the scent of his rejected mate. He tailed the sharp peppery scent toward the very center of the enclosure where it mingled with the sweetness of apples.
He moved faster between the trees, crashing through brush and jumping over fallen trunks. A short shout rang out overhead and he halted against the soft dirt. Winter looked up into the yellow and orange foliage just in time to see Sterling fall from one of the tallest branches.
The red cloak billowed around her as she soared through the air.
She landed on her back with a pained cry, only a moment before a large wolf dropped on top of her.
Talia’s light gray fur shone bright even in the darkness, her yellow eyes glowing.
Bits of tattered clothing fluttered around them as if she had shifted just before leaping after Sterling.
A dull blade glinted in Red Riding Hood’s hand, directed straight up at Talia’s chest. A split moment of panic drove Winter forward, knowing his ex-mate wouldn’t be taken down that easily. His shoulder slammed into Talia’s side, and they both rolled sideways.
Talia leapt to her feet with a snarl, then froze when her gaze met the prince’s vicious stare.
Winter tensed, fighting the urge to tear her limb from limb.
She deserved it for many reasons, and he might’ve done it already if she hadn’t wisely avoided him.
But now he had something more important to worry about.
The prince whirled around and grabbed Sterling by the wrists, hauling her to her feet. She bared her dull, human teeth at him as he passed both wrists to one hand and plucked the dagger from her grip.
“You made this game unfair,” she snapped.
Winter rolled his eyes and tossed the dagger over his shoulder.
“I thought this was meant to be a fight against humans. That”—she scowled past Winter—“is a wolf. A bitch at that.”
“Shut your mouth,” Talia growled, now shifted out of wolf form. “You don’t deserve the chance to make it out of here alive after what you’ve done to the pack!”
Winter rounded on Talia without releasing his hold of Sterling. Rage twisted in his chest as he forced himself not to lash out. There was a crowd of wolves still spectating, and he didn’t want them to interfere with the game too.
“What the fuck are you doing in here?” he demanded.
Though Talia was now bare before him, Winter kept his eyes firmly locked on hers. He didn’t need to see what fate had dangled in front of him—only for it all to be ripped away when his perfect mate had been fucking someone else. The night before their mating ceremony.
“Killing her,” Talia answered.
A muscle ticked in the prince’s jaw. “If I wanted to simply kill her, I would’ve done that already.”
Talia huffed. “I was just—”
“Count your days,” Winter warned. “The moment my father is dead, your place in this pack is gone unless I decide to have you dealt with more permanently.”
“Winter,” she pleaded, her voice dropping to a more submissive tone. “You don’t mean that.”
“I do.”
Sterling cleared her throat. “May I finish the game, so I can free my brother?”
Winter tugged her close to his side and used his free hand to cover her mouth. “Hush. Your betters are speaking, human,” he hissed in her ear. Not that he considered Talia better than anyone, but he didn’t need to get into that with his enemy.
Talia crossed her arms and hesitated. “The pack is gossiping about how you keep her in your room,” she said, half accusatory, half questioning.
“You lost the privilege of knowing who’s in my bed when you fucked someone else,” he spat. “Now, get out of the damn enclosure so the game can continue.”
“It’s over,” Talia said, lifting her chin. “You killed the last two. I smell them on you.”
“Then it looks like I won the prince’s game.” Sterling smiled.
Talia lunged at her and Winter caught his rejected mate around the throat before tossing her to the ground. She inched backward into a tree. As she coughed and sputtered, Winter dragged Sterling away. If everyone was dead, Sterling was accurate in her assumption—she’d won.
Winter’s wolf released a low snarl and tilted his head, just as confused as he was over their conflicting feelings about that fact. It was imperative he got over his fascination with her. And to do that, she still needed to die.