Page 20 of Blood of the Fairest

Dark blond hair with small braids throughout it but shorn on one side, a bit of facial hair, a few scars that just add to the rugged sexiness, blue rune-like tattoos all over one of his muscular tree trunk arms…

Check, check, triple check.

Hubba, hubba.

I'm not sure if the Huntsman has noticed I'm practically drooling over him, since he also seems briefly distracted. He takes one step toward me and lifts his chin slightly before frowning even more, his lips turning down.

"Why do you smell like this?"

Mmm-hmm, yep. That's exactly the kind of Hemsworth-level voice I would imagine him having, if this was about to turn into a sex fantasy.

But since I'm ninety-five percent sure this isn't a dream, and since I'm supposed to be an evil fairytale queen, I try to rein in my lady boner.

What did this tall drink of water just say, again?

Oh, god. I think he said I smell.

"Of course I do," I sigh, my ego bruised. "That's my kind of luck. I'm meeting a sexy Viking, so I just had to have the fastest sponge bath ever in a world that probably hasn't discovered deodorant."

The Huntsman's furrowed brow remains, but any amount of puzzlement that was just mixed into his expression melts away until all that remains is…a frigid glare.

I repeat, this rugged hunk is glaring daggers at me.

Now that I'm not distracted by how ridiculously sexy he is, it's getting more and more clear how downright murderous he looks. It's the same level of scathing hatred I felt from that kid yesterday—like I'm the devil incarnate.

Is he insulted that I called him a Viking? What else could I have possibly done to make him look at me like this?

The Huntsman takes another step toward me, a wordless threat.

My heart, which was feeling a little loopy a second ago, starts to beat harder as I notice the gleaming axe hanging from his hip. A knife is sheathed at his belt. I swallow, wondering if I completely misread this entire meeting.

Didn't the Three Stooges say the queen hired this guy? I thought that meant he was working for me, but...maybe Schultz or someone else hired him to kill me instead.

Am I just being paranoid, like the doctors always say I am?

"You'll pay for your cruelty with your life," the Huntsman finally promises, his glare burning me. "But first, you will suffer."

Nope, not paranoid. It's officially time to go.

Turning, I bolt toward the doors⁠—

But a strange wave of something invisible sweeps over me. It's like electricity one moment and a tranquilizer the next. Before I know it, the chapel with all its statues and stained glass is swallowed up in darkness.

6

Verena

This isn't the first time I've woken up gagged and bound, tossed over a man's shoulder as he carried me to an unknown fate.

While the Huntsman descends cobblestone steps overgrown with ivy and thorns, my vision dips in and out of blurriness. All my old terrors claw their way back to the surface from where I buried them years ago.

You're sick. Let me go.

Hush, sweetling. Why would I let you go when I have you all to myself at last?

I don't know what the Huntsman did to me, but I'm drowsy as hell as he sets me down on a chair. He ties my wrists tightly behind it with a rough rope. My crown and veil are long gone as my head lolls to the side, eyelids fluttering.

From some long-distant plane, a door slams. That familiar mechanical buzzing sound fills my ears.