Page 35 of The Darkest Wolves
Zilo explainsto me that the Prince of Hell has a very elaborate morning schedule:
Fucking.
Eating.
Dueling.
Yes, men are complex creatures indeed.
And that’s why I’m lingering in the shadows of the dueling arena for his guard to take the final blow and bow out of the current match Prince Ravar is kicking his ass in. Finally—fucking finally—the guard takes a hard fall to the black soot, puffs of glittering dirt fanning up around him.
And he doesn’t get up as the Prince pins his shining onyx blade to the center of the stocky man’s burly throat.
“Good move, my Prince,” the guard comments respectfully.
The Prince’s smile is a cutting thing. Almost as sharp as his weapon. It should signal what comes next. But it doesn’t.
The blade hauls back, and with as much force as he can muster, Prince Ravar rails the metal clean through the man’s chest.
An empty breath is the only sound as the dozens of spectators watch their leader murder his own guard right before their eyes. The man’s gaze is big and terrified as he clings to the blade impaling him, and he stares up at the one person who should have his best interest at heart.
And I wonder if that’s what he’s thinking just as the shining light in his eyes fades out.
My own heart tightens, and the air in my lungs has been missing for a long moment now.
It hurts.
But I can’t pause.
I can’t stop the charade for even a second.
Because like Roman said, I’m losing. And that means I’m failing men just like this guard.
With my head held high, I stride out into the ashen arena. I feel the attention of the royals and the kingdom above watching every step I take out toward the cruel man wiping fresh blood from his blade.
“He wasn’t really much of an opponent,” I say with the nastiness of those words stinging my tongue.
The Prince turns, and I know the moment he really sees me. Because that sheer mating gown is finally coming in handy. He seems to note the way it clings to the flawless shape of my breasts and the nice curve of my hips.
While the men wanted me to blend in to this culture of practicality in their dark pants and worn shirts, that’s not what will get me noticed.
And I am being thoroughly fucking noticed right now.
“Good morning,” he says with a heat in his eyes I’ve seen too many times to count.
I’ve also seen the way men’s eyebrows shoot up high when I pick up a weapon. Just like his does as I pick up the dead man’s blade. I study the length of it. Not a drop of blood adorns the dark metal. Not one wound was given to the guard’s killer.
We should rectify that.
I hold the hilt in my palm in a sort of novice way. I’ll admit I like to play innocent from time to time… Okay, so I like to fuck with people sometimes. Nothing wrong with that.
I peer up from beneath my thick lashes at the man watching me with insulting amusement in his features. “You’re a cute one,” he labels me.Cute.I’ma be so damn cute when I cut your dick from your balls.
“Thank you, my Prince.” The smile I give him is that same innocence. “Care to go another round?” With purpose, I flop my sword around in a mock of a joust.
Ah, he laughs and laughs. Like a total fucking fool.
“I’d love to go a few rounds with you,” he insinuates with a rake of his gaze sliding down my frame once more.
