 by Alta Hensley.jpg)
Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 36416 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 182(@200wpm)___ 146(@250wpm)___ 121(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36416 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 182(@200wpm)___ 146(@250wpm)___ 121(@300wpm)
They’ve been sent to break me.
Not one, but seven.
They plan to steal my beauty, my innocence.
Seven Hunters to track me down and claim me as theirs.
I try to run, but it is hopeless.
They have caught me.
I am their prey, their prize, to do with as they please.
But I will capture something far more precious… the Huntsmen’s hearts.
In our Fairytales, there is danger in the shadows, the beasts bite and no Heroine is truly safe. If dark tales of danger, forced attraction and multiple partners offend you, then please do not purchase.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
CHAPTER 1
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, startling 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 time any human beings 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.