Snow and the Seven Huntsmen: A Dark Reverse Harem Romance (Dark Fantasy Book 1)

by Zoe Blake

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Find out about Zoe & Alta

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Epilogue

  Dark Fantasy Series

  About Zoe Blake

  About Alta Hensley

  Also by Zoe Blake

  Also By Alta Hensley

  Snow & the Seven Huntsmen

  A Reverse Harem Dark Romance

  Zoe Blake

  Alta Hensley

  Copyright © 2018 by Zoe Blake & Alta Hensley

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Editing by the wonderful Maggie Ryan

  Cover Art by Dark City Designs

  To all the dark and dirty readers, we dedicate this book to all of you.

  Zoe & Alta

  Find out about Zoe & Alta

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  Alta Hensley

  Zoe Blake

  One

  It was barely a sound.

  The soft scrape of a boot on the floor. The rub of a shoulder against the stone wall. A muffled cough.

  I was awake in an instant. Something was different. There was a tension in the air.

  Throwing my covers aside, I shivered when my feet touched the icy flagstone floor. Creeping over to the high-arched windows, I parted the brocade curtains just enough to peek out. All was quiet and still. The newly fallen snow lay undisturbed, glistening and sparkling in the moonlight.

  Perhaps I had imagined it?

  Another sound.

  This one just beyond my bedroom door.

  A horrible calm settled over me as if a long anticipated storm had finally broken. I had been waiting for this day. Dreading it.

  My stepmother had finally sent someone to kill me.

  With my only escape route now blocked to me, I had to think fast. Pushing open the heavy curtains, I placed my hands on the black ebony frame. I once again looked over the winter scene below, the peace of a winter’s eve now destroyed. My bedroom was far too high to risk a jump, but perhaps I could climb out onto the ledge and make my way to the stone balustrade of the room next door.

  There was the screech of metal against metal. The scrape of a key. They were unlocking my door.

  Running across the room, I picked up the small wooden spindle chair by the perpetually cold fireplace. It was one of the few pieces of furniture I was allowed in my sparse prison. Hefting it high, I raced back to the window. I hesitated. The moment I broke the window, there would be no turning back. I would have to run and keep running. I squeezed my eyes shut and smashed the chair against the glass with all my might. It shattered, sending sharp shards skittering across the floor. Grabbing the blanket off my bed, I placed it over the jagged pieces. Stepping up to the window, I tossed the remnants of the bedcovers over the sill, cutting my finger in the process. I watched in horrid fascination as three warm, crimson spots of blood fell upon the snow on the ledge, melting it.

  As I gingerly stepped onto the sill, the bedroom door opened. A bitter wind cut through the threadbare fabric of my nightgown as remnants of the broken window sliced into my bare feet. With a cry, I moved onto the ledge, quickly turning to grasp the chilled stone.

  Morbid curiosity getting the better of me, I peered back into the interior of my room. Looking over my shoulder, I saw three men enter, moonlight illuminating them. The brawn and bulk of their size belied their almost silent entry.

  So similar they could be brothers, each was tall with broad shoulders and a harsh angular face. They wore animal skins and furs. Trophies of their past kills.

  Huntsmen.

  Spurred on by their fearsome looks, I dug my fingernails into the stone façade and tried to slide my foot to the right. It slipped on the ice-covered ledge. My cry of alarm echoed across the still forest, sending sleeping birds into flight.

  “Well, the lass has spirit. I will give her that,” said one of the men happily, a note of appreciation in his dark voice.

  “Good. This would be no fun if she didn’t have some fight in her,” said another while clapping the first on the shoulder.

  “There is no point in running. We will only hunt you down,” said the third to me.

  “Why have you come?” I asked.

  “You know why.”

  I could feel all three men assessing me. No doubt, the bright moonlight was shining through my gown, leaving little to their lascivious imaginations. Was I to be used for their pleasure before they killed me? I cast a look over my shoulder to the drifts below. I could hear new voices outside, their conversation carrying across the hushed midnight landscape. More men.

  “Are you going to be a good girl and come along quietly?” asked the first. With his feet planted and his arms crossed over his massive chest, he made for a foreboding sight.

  “I could scream,” I warned. The words came out weak and trembling as my teeth had begun to chatter from the cold.

  “And no one would come to your aid.”

  The truth of their words sent the air rushing from my lungs. I was completely alone. The wretched irony was this conversation with my killers was the first a human being had spoken to me in years. My stepmother had ordered the servants and villagers to ignore my presence and never to speak to me almost from the moment my father had drawn his last breath. I had been wrapped in a blanket of silence and solitude for as long as I could remember.

  I could feel the tears pool in my eyes. As they dropped, they froze on my chilled cheeks. “You could let me go,” I whispered.

  “No. We can’t. You are a prize we have fought long and hard to claim. You belong to us now,” explained the third man.

  My brow wrinkled at his words. “You’re not here to kill me?”

  A bark of laughter came from all three men.

  The first one answered for the group. “You may trust us in this, lass. The very last thing we plan to do is kill you.”

  “Enough talk,” ground out the second grumpily. “The others are waiting below.”

  He stepped before me. Laying a hand on my chest, he pushed.

  Flailing, my outstretched hands scrambled for some kind of purchase but only met with air. The sound of rushing wind tormented me as I fell backwards into nothingness. My scream lost. What was only an instant felt like an eternity.

  Then…instead of the cold embrace of death, I felt warmth.

  I was held in a pair of strong arms. The feel of soft fur caressed my cheek. He smelled of pine and whiskey. I looked up into his bearded face, surprised when he gave me a wink.

  “Well, men. It looks like I have caught some falling Snow.”

  I was surrounded by hearty laughter.

  With a start, I craned my neck around. Three large burly men stared back at me with interest. Another fo
ur men.

  Seven in total.

  With a screech, I twisted and turned my body, trying to break free. The man who held me easily tossed me over his shoulder. I felt the heat of his large hand on the undercurve of my ass.

  “You bastard!” I yelled. “Get your hands off me!”

  I had a brief moment of satisfaction when I felt his hand move away. Then there was a burst of raw pain. His open palm had struck my right buttock. The thin fabric of my gown did not keep the prickling hot needles from racing over my chilled skin.

  Shock kept me immobile.

  One of the other men circled round my captor’s back. Grabbing my dark, ebony hair, he forced my head up. I winced at the twinge of pain.

  Addressing the assembled men, he said, “Let’s get our new prize home so we can really begin her punishment.”

  I opened my mouth to scream, but he shoved a gag between my red lips, tying it tightly behind my head.

  Once upon a time, I was a princess named Snow White…now, I am the captive prize of seven huntsmen.

  Two

  Seven men. Seven men. Seven men.

  My heart beat out a frenetic cadence as all I could think was seven men. How was I to escape from seven men?

  The woods.

  They were my only hope. Stealing furtive glances at them from beneath my cascade of hair, I waited for my moment. They were carrying me to a small clearing just on the other side of the castle walls.

  Where were the guards?

  Why was no one raising the alarm?

  As we neared their horses, I could feel the muscles in my body tense, primed for action. The very moment my bare feet touched the ground, I bolted.

  Hearing their outraged shouts and cries only spurred me on.

  Straining to see, the moonlight dimmed in the forest, I dodged and weaved through the dark, towering trees. Sinking deep into the icy cold slush, my feet felt cold and bruised. My palms were scraped raw as I braced myself against the rough bark of the trees to keep from slipping.

  I could hear their howls of frustration as they searched the forest for me. Their large bodies crashed through the underbrush like wild beasts who had picked up the scent of vulnerable prey nearby.

  Placing my back against the harsh surface of one tree, I clawed at the knot behind my head holding the gag in place. The moment the dingy fabric dropped from my lips, I sucked in a desperate breath. The frigid air stabbed at my lungs. My usually pale skin glowed a raw red as the bitter cold chafed. With nothing more than my thin silk nightgown and no protection for my feet, I would not last long exposed to the unforgiving elements.

  The village was too far away, and there was no guarantee I would find shelter and help. My only hope was to hide from the huntsmen long enough to double back to the castle. The possibility that it was my very own stepmother who had sent them after me crossed my mind. The castle would not be safe for long, but it was a massive structure with plenty of places to hide. Perhaps I could find a servant still loyal to me or my father. It was a risk I was willing to take.

  Straining to hear, I was alarmed at the sudden stillness.

  Something was wrong.

  I could no longer hear the tread of the huntsmen’s booted feet on the forest floor, or the snap of brittle tree branches as their tall frames passed. They were no longer shouting to one another or cursing my flight.

  Neither was there the sound of the woodland creatures as they skittered past nor the enraged call of a bird disturbed from their slumber.

  All was still.

  Something was wrong.

  Wincing from the piercing pain, I took a few tentative steps forward, away from the protection of the tree I was leaning on. I suppressed a grimace at the sight of my own bloodied footprints. The bitter cold had numbed my feet, but now, in addition to the cuts from the broken glass of my window, I had no doubt they were badly torn from the harsh bramble and twigs littering the forest floor. Trying to still my harsh breathing, I glanced desperately about me, searching through the darkness.

  I took another step.

  There was the sickening crack of splintering wood.

  Something tightened around my ankle.

  Screeching in pain and alarm, I was swept off my feet to hang upside down. My nightgown floated over my head, blinding me. Swinging to and fro, I struggled against the bind and the rising panic as all the blood rushed to my head.

  “Freyr, looks like your snare caught a rabbit,” said one of the huntsmen with an amused chuckle.

  Shrieking for help, I tried to raise my body up as I fought with the fabric of my nightgown, desperate to both preserve my modesty and free my gaze.

  I felt a stinging flash of burning hot pain on my buttock as someone slapped my exposed flesh. Howling in protest, my arms flailed and punched blindly in the air.

  “The princess has some spirit.”

  My cheeks burned with humiliation from the bawdy laughter as I dangled upside down, my legs spread indecently wide as I futilely struggled to free myself.

  A heavy hand fell between my thighs, and I couldn’t control my desperate sob from the overt threat of his touch. A thick finger cruelly forced its way inside my body. It felt awkward and painful as I could feel my muscles clench and tighten around the protrusion.

  “She has a sweet cunny to be sure. Grabbing onto my finger like a vise. Probably tear the lass in two with one thrust from my cock.”

  “Well, if her cunt can’t take it, we’ll just have to use her ass.”

  “No! No! Stop!” I cried as I felt fingers grope my bottom. The tips dug between the crease and brutally pried my cheeks open. Hot tears ran down my face to dampen my hair as I felt the cool night air on my most sensitive place.

  The wet tip of a finger pushed against my hidden hole.

  Ignoring the pain in my ankle, my body twisted and writhed as I tried to escape their barbarous hands.

  “Hold her steady, Odin.”

  Warm hands cupped my breasts. My nipples were painfully erect from the cold. The stranger’s hands gently rolled the sensitive nubs between his fingers before brutally pinching them. I squealed in pain, but my body stilled as I tried to ease the pressure of his grip on my nipples.

  “Good girl,” cooed the man called Odin in a darkly soothing voice. “You will learn quickly it is better to obey.”

  “Please, please don’t torture me so,” I pleaded.

  Their response was to force the finger in my bottom deeper. Sharp shocks of pain radiated through my body, causing my stomach to clench and spasm.

  “I don’t know, Dagr. This ass is as tight as a drum. Don’t know if you’ll get that tree trunk you call a cock up this one.”

  “I love a good challenge,” was his foreboding response.

  Each ruthless touch was like a brand on my chilled skin. My frantic mind could no longer focus as a fresh new horror washed over me in waves. Humiliation, pain, fear.

  “Cut her down. We need to finish this.”

  I was held aloft in a pair of strong arms as the rope around my ankle was cut free.

  “Dammit. Will you look at what she’s done to her feet?”

  “We’ll mend her when we get to the cabin, Tore. Did you bring the boar?”

  “Right here.”

  Watching in detached numb silence, I was too overwhelmed to react when two of the men hauled a dead wild boar into the small clearing where we stood. Taking a vicious looking knife, they sliced through the animal’s tough hide. A gush of crimson red blood spilled onto the snow, the pure white blanket pristine no more. The forest was quiet with only the sickening sound of the knife cutting through bone and sinew.

  “You have the box she gave us?”

  “Yeah. That queen is a piece of work. Giving us the very box which contained the lass’s mother’s jewels, her stolen birthright, to carry the heart in.”

  Their words cut through my stupor. Raising my neck to peer past the arms which held me tight, I spied the enameled box. Decorated with delicate bejeweled flowers a
nd birds, it had been a prize possession of my mother’s. I watched as bloodied hands raised the lid and placed the still warm heart of the boar inside the box.

  “Jerrik, take this to the queen. Tell her the deed is done. The rest of you get your horses. We need to secure our prize in case the queen becomes suspicious and wants to see the body.”

  The humiliation of this eve’s events, coupled with the imagined horrors to come, were too much for me. I closed my eyes and surrendered to the darkness.

  Three

  It felt like hours later when I opened my eyes to see a massive structure hidden deep in the woods behind the sheltering branches of several ancient pine trees.

  “Here we are, princess. Your new home.”

  The beasts had taken me to their lair.

  “Let me take a look at your feet,” a huntsman said as he guided me by the arm into the cabin and sat me down on a stool near the cold hearth. Looking up at me, he added, “My name is Tore, and I handle all the wounds around here.”

  He wasn’t asking permission, and I knew I didn’t have an option, so I obediently remained on the stool. I had upset them enough with my foolish attempt at escape, and now that I was confined within the walls of the cabin with these men, I had no desire to anger my captors any further. To my right, I saw that I had left footprints of blood along the wooden floor. Tore knelt down at my feet and stared at me directly in the eyes as he did so. His dark eyes screamed of disapproval, and I couldn’t maintain my eye contact for more than a mere moment due to the severity of how he looked at me. His brown shoulder-length hair hung haphazardly around his face, and a thin layer of facial hair covered his firm jaw line. With him being so close, I could smell leather and masculinity before me.

  The other huntsmen seemed to go about their normal business as if this were simply another ordinary morning. A fire was lit in the hearth quickly, which I was grateful for, considering that my thin nightgown was doing very little in providing warmth.