“An intruder,” Gage said, though the word came out rough. “Or a gift.”
“We don’t get gifts,” Dax said, but his voice lacked conviction.
It had been a long time since any of them had even seen a woman up close, let alone had one asleep in their bed. Years of isolation and underground shifts had honed their edges, starved their softer parts.
Silas tilted his head, studying her like a puzzle. “She’s pretty,” he said in his slow drawl. “Even like that.”
“Especially like that,” Harry amended with a grin.
“Shut it,” Gage said again, though his own gaze was glued to the flash of cleavage where her bodice had slipped.
Drew shifted, hands flexing unconsciously.
Silas, standing slightly behind the others, sneezed. A sudden, unmistakable, echoingachoothat startled everyone—including the sleeping girl.
Snow White’s eyes flew open. For a moment she had no idea where she was. The low ceiling, the unfamiliar shadows, the weight of several blankets over her—all of it hit at once. She sat bolt upright with a little gasp.
“Oh,” she said. Because there, at the foot and sides of the bed, stood six men. Tall. Wide. Handsome. Dirty. Staring at heras if she’d dropped from heaven. For a heartbeat, none of them moved.
From Snow White’s perspective, they were a wall of muscle and stubble and stunned expressions. One—Dax—had a calculating, almost clinical gaze, his eyes sweeping over her as if taking stock of goods for trade. Gage’s expression was a scowl half-melted by the unmistakable bulge in his trousers. Harry’s grin was already beginning to tug at his lips. Silas blinked slowly, a little out of sync with the rest. Bennett went scarlet and dropped his eyes to the floor, then dragged them back up in guilty little darting looks. Silas wiped his nose on his sleeve, trying to pretend his sneeze had not just happened. Drew simply watched, eyes wide and bright, hands twitching as if he wanted to reach out and touch, but didn’t dare.
Snow White snapped into anxiety. Her dress had ridden low during sleep; the rough neckline exposed more of her breasts than she’d ever let show on purpose. Her legs, tangled in the blankets, were bare from mid-thigh down, smudged with dirt, a bruise shadowing one shin. She was dirty, she smelled bad, she was half-naked. Heat rushed to her face. “I—” she stammered, fumbling at the blanket to cover herself. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—I was just—”
Dax’s voice cut through, clipped and steady. “Who are you…” he asked, “and what are you doing in our house?” The authority in his tone steadied her a fraction. Authority she could answer to. She’d been doing that her whole life.
“My name is Snow White,” she said, clutching the blanket to her chest. “I—” Her throat closed for a second on the urge to sayPrincess Shay. That title felt like a joke now, somewhere between tragic and obscene. If they knew who she was, would they help her or throw her out in the cold? The nickname felt safer. “I was riding through the woods. I got lost. I hadn’t eaten in days. I saw your cottage and…” She looked guilty. “There wasbread. On the table. I thought I’d leave something in return, but I was so tired and I—I just sat down for a moment, and I must have fallen asleep.”
Silas huffed. “That’s a fairly honest confession for a thief. Snow White, what kind of name is that? Sounds funny!”
“I’m not a thief,” she protested. “I mean—I suppose I am, but not usually. I’ll work to repay you, I swear it. I’ll clean, or cook, or—” She floundered. “Something.”
Dax’s gaze moved from her face to the torn state of her clothes, to the calluses on her hands, to the way she held herself, hunched as if she expected a blow. “All alone?” he asked. “No one with you?”
“No,” she said. “It’s just me. And my horse.” She nodded vaguely toward the window where Grimm’s hindquarters were visible.
Harry interjected sarcastically, “Oh, we need to stable a horse, too? Make yourself at home, apparently.” He added with a half-smile and a half-chuckle.
Gage snorted. “Pretty girl,” he muttered. “Pretty story.”
Snow White’s stomach twisted. “It’s the truth,” she said. “I have nowhere else to go.”
Silas yawned. “She looks tired enough, Dax. If she’s lying, she’s very committed to it.”
Bennett’s hands twisted in the hem of his shirt. “Let her stay,” he blurted, then went redder when five heads turned toward him. “I mean—just for the night. We can decide in the morning. She looks like she needs help.”
Gage’s scowl deepened. “We don’t even know who she is. For all we know, she’s bait for some bandit gang. We bring one pretty stray in and wake up with our throats cut.”
Harry shrugged. “Then at least we’ll die smiling.”
Dax shot him a look, but there was a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.
Snow White clutched the blanket tighter. Her heart hammered. She could feel their gazes on her: hot, curious, hungry. Not like the look Liora gave her, cold and weighing. These were raw. Honest. Unvarnished. Did she feel frightened or excited? Something about these men made her feel safe.
“Please. I’ll do anything,” she said, the words spilling out. She was so desperate for human interaction, somewhere to go, somewhere to belong, “Truly. I can sweep, or chop wood, or tend the garden. I grew up…” She swallowed the wordin a castle. “…with people who worked. I can learn how to scrub floors and—”
“Cook?” Harry cut in hopefully.
She hesitated. “No,” she admitted. “I can’t cook.”
