Chapter 1
Chapter One
The late winter sun dipped low in the sky, sketching long, chilling shadows across the sparse sheet of snow.
They almost seemed to dance and move, haunting the edge of night.
Tree branches became gnarled fingers, reaching, grabbing—pulling.
Not even the verdant spring buds emerging could halt the gloom they spread.
Snow raced quickly through the wood, the many barbs, stones, and thorns pierced his soft, bare feet, his delicate kid leather heels lost along the way.
His hurried heartbeat quickened with every step, the unsteady throbbing roaring to a crescendo. He peeked over one shoulder, still fearing the huntsman’s blade, but saw no signs of the man who’d offered him both a bitter end and sweet salvation.
Before he could turn his focus forward, a toe caught a raised root from a mighty oak.
Snow tumbled, arms flailing. His palms and one knee scraped across the rough ground, knocking the air from his lungs.
It was the first time he’d grown still since being urged to run for his life.
Stopping wasn’t clever. It gave his mind time to process what he’d learned.
The step-papa he’d near begged for love and attention preferred him dead.
He’d lost his papa so young he could scarcely remember more than a soft smile, the warmth of a hug, and the lilt of a lullaby.
Now he’d lost another parent. Coupled with the pain of the thousand little cuts, scrapes, and bruises, his will to continue faded.
He had to get up.
Under the darkened canopy of that oak tree, he attempted to stand once more, but there was no strength left in his quivering limbs. A sob rose up his chest, but he fought it. Crying wouldn’t help his situation. He needed shelter for the night. Food. A fire.
Snow had a beautiful home—a castle where fires roared in every hearth and tables were laden with the most delicious food he could ever dream of. He’d never been shown how to fend for himself. How would he survive?
I likely won’t.
He sat up, leaning against the nearest trunk, and curled himself into a tiny ball.
Knees to his chest, he stared above, eyeing the first faint glimpses of stars amid the dark, twisting branches.
Closing his eyes, he sent a wish up to those stars.
Perhaps fairy godpapas were real and his would send him the salvation he so desperately needed.
The longer he sat, the more the sheen of sweat caused his skin to grow chilled. He shivered, the cold creeping deep.
Of course fairy godpapas weren’t real. He’d need to figure things out for himself.
Where did he even start? A fire. He needed a fire.
“By the gods’ bones. I know not how to start one,” Snow muttered before another sob rose.
He couldn’t stop the crying this time. One fat tear rolled down his cheek, followed by another. Soon, he was openly weeping. In a matter of an hour, he’d lost his father, his home, and the step-papa he’d always hoped would one day love him as a son.
Tears transformed into anger. He screamed his rage into the eerie quiet of the forest. That anger was short-lived, though.
He did not have the energy left to fuel it.
He peeked around at the growing shadows, imagining all sorts of ghouls and goblins would soon be out to plague his night with horrors.
Resting his forehead on his knees, he tightened his arms around himself for warmth.
A noise nearby caused his head to pop up. Something was approaching, he was sure of it. Snow told himself it was likely another wild beast. For some reason, all he’d encountered thus far had left him alone, but he doubted his luck would continue much longer.
Long ago, the huntsman had told him what to do when faced with a predator. Don’t run. Get big. Be noisy and scare them away.
While he wasn’t very big, he might be larger than whatever loomed nearby.
Snow wobbled as he rose on his burning feet, his wounded knee nearly giving out from under him.
Lifting his hands above his head, he waved them around while roaring as loud as he could.
The underbrush across from him shook as if in fear—and he hoped he was intimidating enough that the animal behind it might be as shaken as those evergreen branches.
A dark shadowed figure popped out of the brush.
A large, dark, shadowed figure.
Snow would need two of himself to be as tall. Dropping his arms, he cowered into the shadows, hoping he hadn’t been seen.
The creature stepped into a fading shaft of light, a golden glow outlining him.
A dark-haired man. An alpha. A massive one at that.
Snow sucked in a gasp, eyeing the man’s bared chest as broad and strong-looking as a bear’s—but his eyes quickly went to the substantial silver axe clutched in one meaty hand.
Had his step-papa learned of the huntsman’s deceit and sent another to finish the job?
Snow gulped past the knot forming in his throat, the barest glint of sunlight shining off the blade angled in his direction.
The alpha appeared to meet his gaze, but it was hard to tell.
His face was partially in shadow, the light at his back.
Snow had been seen, though. As the alpha closed the gap between them, Snow’s thundering heart quickened all the more.
Snow eyed his escape routes. The oak’s gnarled roots spread far and wide. Either direction he chose, he’d have yards and yards of long, curling fingers in his way. They would slow his flight, which was already plagued by fatigue and injury.
“Have you strayed from your path?” the alpha asked, interrupting Snow’s quiet calculations.
His deep, baritone sent tremors down Snow’s spine… and a weeping drop of slick eased from his passage.
My gods… please, not this. Not now…
Snow attempted to speak, but the words wouldn’t come from his lips. The alpha paused, too close for comfort, and inhaled, his nostrils flaring from the sound of it. The faintest of growls came from the man. It was enough to cause another drop to escape and slide down the back of Snow’s leg.
“Are you lost?” the alpha asked, his tone harsher.
Snow recoiled from the sound of it, eyes wide.
The alpha cursed under his breath. He took one more step, and sunlight illuminated him better. His eyes shone in the bronze rays, their color appearing light. “I wish you no ill. I daresay my gentle demeanor has not been required in some time. I humbly beg forgiveness if I’ve frightened you.”
Snow eyed the mountain of a man, not fully convinced, yet wanting to believe.
The alpha hunkered down and laid his axe on the ground beside him, never taking his gaze off Snow.
He lifted his hands, showing large, calloused palms in some devilish display of surrender.
Devilish in the fact that it made Snow ache, wondering how those rough hands would feel against his soft body.
Wayward thoughts or not, Snow didn’t trust the capitulation—nor the man. He should run as fast as he could, yet his feet wouldn’t move.
“I wish you no harm,” the alpha said, his voice soft and soothing, as if speaking to a frightened, wounded animal.
Was that not what Snow was, though?
The alpha slowly closed the gap, his face becoming ever clearer as he neared.
His hair was as dark as coal, like Snow’s—and his skin was deeply tanned.
It appeared he may have spent many hours in the sun rays, but Snow couldn’t be sure.
All he knew for certain was the man was large enough to black out the sun itself.
“Where are your kin?”
Snow dragged his gaze away. How did he answer that? His own family wished him dead. That wouldn’t speak of his own character.
“You’re out here alone?” the alpha asked, brows furrowed. “Who would allow an omega such as you to roam these woods?”
Allow an omega? Snow’s gaze flicked to the alpha’s, glaring.
The alpha lifted his hands, again in surrender. “I meant no harm—only that you look ill-prepared for a journey this far out into the forest alone.”
Snow fought a sob, turning his gaze away so the alpha didn’t see any hint of the shine in his eyes.
“You appear injured,” the alpha whispered. “I can render aid.”
Snow’s entire body shivered.
From fear, surely. But was it fear? A hint of a scent hit Snow’s nose. His body quickened, tensing in places it shouldn’t. The alpha’s scent, Snow was suddenly sure of it. A rich, warm scent that urged him closer.
“The sun shall soon set.” The alpha took another half step before stopping a body’s-length away and moving down onto one knee. “Nearby, we possess a cottage where we can tend your wounds and fill your belly. And give you a warm spot to find rest for the night.”
We? Who else roamed the woods, axe at the ready? Snow shook his head, pushing his spine as close to the trunk of the tree as he could.
“Vor!” a deep, disembodied voice roared nearby. “Where have you wandered off to, Vor?”
“Here!” the alpha yelled over one enormous shoulder, his gaze not leaving Snow for more than a brief beat of the heart.
Shortly, another massive alpha appeared from the brush.
He, too, was bare-chested and muscled all over, a massive silver axe near as large as Vor’s hefted over one shoulder—though its handle was made of hardwood, not metal.
He approached Snow, but the first man silently stilled him with a commanding wave of his hand.
“What has heaven set upon us?” the second man asked, grinning wickedly.
“Back away, Greer. You’ll strike fear in him,” Vor said, his voice grim.
“The only one he’ll fear is you,” Greer replied, adding a scoff. “You behemoth.”
Vor’s gaze narrowed. “Gather the others and head for the cottage. I believe we’ll have a guest this eve.”
“Yes, your Majesty.”
Vor lunged to his feet, spinning to eye the other man so quickly, Snow barely saw him move. Snow couldn’t see the look on Vor’s face, only the clenching of a muscled back and thick arms, but the expression on Greer’s spoke volumes. Fear and intimidation shone as he appeared to weigh his options.