Hunter: A Snow White and the Huntsman Variation (Stud Ranch Standalone Romances Book 1) Read online

  Table of Contents

  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

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Epilogue

  Part I

  Part II

  HUNTER:

  A Snow White & The Huntsman Variation

  (Stud Ranch #1)

  STASIA BLACK

  Copyright © 2017 Stasia Black

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  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

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Epilogue

  Meet Liam

  Acknowledgements

  About Stasia

  Note to Readers about Name Change:

  Please note that I’ve changed Tom Dawkins’ name to Hunter Dawkins in this novel. I’ve since gone back and changed it in newer versions of The Virgin and the Beast (now the prequel to this series), but if you read one the original, I wanted to explain so you aren’t confused!

  It was only after I finished and hit ‘publish’ on The Virgin and the Beast that I realized there might be more to the story than had fit in one book. Tom, the veterinarian for example. What happened to him in his unhappy marriage? The more I thought and daydreamed about these characters, the more I realized there was a whole universe to explore. And lots of brooding, sexy men with stories to tell :) Since each book is loosely structured around a particular fairytale, though, I wanted to change Tom’s name to Hunter.

  Mirror mirror on the wall, who’s the fairest of them all?

  Chapter 1

  ISOBEL

  VANESSA TO JASON: Did you break up with her yet?

  VANESSA TO JASON: I know her dad just died but thats not yr fault. We deserve to be :)

  Jason’s cum was still inside Isobel when she read the messages on his phone. He was showering after they’d had sex.

  They’d been dating for three years. Long distance for the past year since Isobel had come back to the city to be close to her dad after he got the diagnosis. Pancreatic cancer. The doctor gave him six months to live. He made it eleven, only passing away early last week.

  Jason had come for the funeral. They hadn’t been intimate for almost two months before that, but Isobel had wanted the comfort of being in his arms tonight. After everything with her father, and God, her stepmom, it had all been just too much.

  So Isobel went to the guest bedroom and slipped into Jason’s bed without turning on the lights. It seemed like the one thing that might make her feel like a whole, sane person again.

  Jason had been hesitant to touch her at first. Which only stoked all her worst fears. She’d gotten fat. She knew she had. He wasn’t attracted to her anymore.

  So she’d redoubled her efforts. Touching him the way she remembered he liked best. Going down on him until he was hard and thrusting in her throat. Then crawling up the bed and going on her hands and knees so he could push into her from behind. He liked to grab her hips and pump her hard. She also suspected he liked to watch his big cock disappear between her ass cheeks.

  But she wouldn’t let him turn on the light when he tried. She could only handle so much. He had no idea what bravery it took for her to let him touch her naked body at all. With no clothes to obscure her problem areas, he could feel all her flaws if he brushed down her thigh, or even worse, if he moved his hands up from her hips to her waist.

  In the end, though, it barely mattered. It was over so quickly. And the part she’d been looking forward to the most—the cuddling afterwards—was nonexistent. Almost the second he grunted and spilled in her, he started muttering about needing to get cleaned up. Then he was climbing off the bed and heading for the shower.

  His cum was still dripping down the inside of her leg when the ensuite bathroom door closed and his phone on the nightstand buzzed with an incoming text.

  Which was when she read Vanessa’s words.

  Vanessa, her best friend back at Cornell.

  Vanessa.

  With Jason.

  Vanessa and Jason.

  Isobel blinked in the dark. Her mind tried to reject the idea even as the evidence glowed on the screen right in front of her.

  The screen went dark but then buzzed in her hand again, lighting up with another text alert.

  VANESSA TO JASON: to get you thru the lonely nite til you come home

  The phone buzzed again with a shirtless selfie of Vanessa squeezing one of her bared breasts and making a sexy face at the camera.

  Isobel didn’t look at Vanessa’s breast, though. She just saw Vanessa’s tiny, flat waist below it.

  Of course Jason was banging her skinnier, prettier best friend. Isobel threw his phone against the wall, only feeling marginally better when she heard the screen crack.

  And then she yanked the bedsheet around her and stormed into the bathroom. Because enough. She’d had enough. Hadn’t life thrown enough shit-bombs her way lately?

  “You cheating bastard!” She jerked the shower curtain back, revealing a startled Jason, foamy shampoo thick in his hair.

  “Baby,” he looked at her, his hands going up in a defensive posture. “What are you—”

  Baby? Fury like she’d never felt before lit her up inside.

  “Get out!” She leaned down and slammed the shower knob, shutting off the water. God, she couldn’t even stand looking at him. He’d just had sex with her and all she could think about was how he must have been comparing her to Vanessa the whole time. It made her want to scream. So she did. “Get out. Now!”

  “Stop. Isobel, I don’t even know what you’re talking ab—”

  “What, you tripped and your dick just accidently fell into Vanessa? I saw your fucking texts, asshole.”

  Jason pulled back, finally dropping silent.

  “Get the fuck out of my fucking house!” she screamed right in his face.

  “Okay, okay,” he said. He reached for the shower knob. “Just let me finish washing my hair and I’ll be—”

  “Did you not hear me? I said get the fuck out now!” She grabbed his bicep and jerked him toward the tub’s edge.

  He slipped and fell, landing ha
rd on his ass.

  “Christ! What the fuck, Iz?” he cried as he scrambled to his feet, slipping one more time before he finally managed to get out of the tub, his hands moving to cover his crotch. Was he afraid she’d want to get a kick in? Not a bad idea.

  But he was already backing out of the bathroom and hurrying toward his suitcase. He dressed faster than she would have thought possible. When he sat on the bed to put on his tennis shoes, she just shouted, “Out!” again. He obviously got the picture because he grabbed the shoes, his suitcase, and his phone from the floor and then he ran out of the room.

  In another few seconds, she heard the front door slam. Good fucking riddance. She hoped more than just his screen was broken so he couldn’t call an Uber.

  She walked back to her bedroom, almost in a daze.

  But after several more seconds, everything that had just happened sank in.

  Jason had cheated on her.

  Jason didn’t love her anymore.

  Dad was gone.

  She was all alone.

  Right as the gut-wrenching realization hit, she happened to look over and catch sight of herself in her full-length mirror.

  She dropped the sheet she’d been carrying around, just to torture herself.

  Fat.

  Ugly.

  Failure.

  She squeezed her eyes shut. Body dysmorphic disorder. When she looked in mirrors, she never saw what was really there. Even if she weighed only ninety-five pounds, she still saw a fat pig. She had weighed ninety-five pounds—very briefly—right before she’d gone into the treatment facility at sixteen, surrounded by a ton of other skeletal girls all convinced they were fat too.

  For a while when she’d been away at college, she thought she could change things—that she could change herself. Just like she’d thought she could finally fix her relationship with Dad by coming home and spending time with him before the end.

  But if the last week had taught her anything, it was that things never changed. Dad died believing her stepmother’s side of the story. And she was always going to be ugly, screwed up Isobel. She was so far from ninety-five pounds it wasn’t even funny. She avoided scales like she tried to avoid mirrors, but barely any of the pants she’d brought home from Cornell fit anymore.

  Without the anger that had been animating her for the past ten minutes, she felt completely empty. She wanted to drop to the floor right there and just…stop. It was all too hard. She couldn’t do this anymore.

  Instead, her feet started moving.

  First to her dresser. She put on her underwear and pajamas mechanically. The bedrooms were on the third floor of the Upper East Side brownstone and she clutched the banister as she hurried downstairs. She knew where she was going even as she hated herself for it. Nothing ever changed—so why fight fate?

  Like a magnet, she was drawn quickly toward the kitchen. It was a pristine room with white marble countertops and dark espresso colored cabinets. Isobel pulled out the ice cream from the double refrigerator. She never bought it but it was always here. She shook her head, knowing it was her stepmother trying to sabotage her and hating that she was giving in. But seriously, what was the fucking point, anyway? She was a sucker for ice cream. Sugary, addictive, with a high calorie count? Sign her up.

  She grabbed a wooden stirring spoon and ate the chocolate chip cookie dough straight out of the container.

  She finished one pint and was halfway through another before disgust with herself sent her running to the trash can underneath the sink. Opening the cabinet, she yanked out the can. She knelt on the dark hardwood floor and then her finger was down the back of her throat before she could even think all the way through what she was doing. She retched and retched into the trashcan until all the ice cream came back up. Then she sat back against the cabinet, shoving the trashcan away in disgust, wiping her mouth with her forearm.

  “Goddammit!” she screamed in frustration, furious at herself. She hadn’t binged and purged for four years before coming home to be with her dad. And now this was the second time this week since the funeral.

  She pulled her knees to her chest, tears streaming down her cheeks.

  She was about to give into a good sob fest—not unusual for her lately, she would go on random crying jags what felt like every half hour, even before her dad died—when she saw something strange.

  The cabinet door under the sink was still open from when she’d grabbed the trashcan. And tucked in the back of the cabinet behind the Ajax, Windex, and dish soap was a tall container of… was that…?

  Isobel blinked back her tears and leaned in, pushing aside the other cleaners to better see the big plastic bottle.

  What the—?

  Why was there a container of protein powder hidden at the back of the sink?

  Isobel stared at the bottle in bewilderment. Was it Dad’s from before he got sick? But why on earth…? It wasn’t like Dad was into pumping iron. He’d go jogging occasionally, but she thought this kind of stuff was usually for guys trying to build up huge muscles.

  She tugged out the bottle and unscrewed the cap. It was more than half empty.

  She glanced back inside the cabinet and froze. Right beside where the protein powder had been was a bottle of the special cognac her stepmother drank—the shit cost six hundred bucks a bottle and Catrina was always paranoid and accusing Isobel of drinking it when she wasn’t looking.

  The truth was Isobel had tried it once but then never again because it tasted like donkey piss.

  But looking back and forth between the cognac and the protein powder, she froze, her teeth grinding.

  That bitch.

  “So he cheated on you.”

  Speak of the devil.

  Isobel’s back went stiff at her stepmother’s voice. She got to her feet, not wanting Catrina to have her at a disadvantage by towering over her.

  “Why am I not surprised?” Catrina sounded almost bored as she stood in the kitchen doorway. It was ten o’clock at night but Catrina was still perfectly made up, her thin former model’s frame standing erect, elegant and dignified in a pale green silk robe. Even in her early fifties, Catrina was still an undeniably beautiful woman. A fact that she’d never let Isobel forget ever since she’d married her father. Isobel had only been ten at the time.

  “You’ve become such a fat pig lately. Did you really think he’d stick around?”

  Isobel’s jaw locked and she looked back down at the open container of protein powder.

  “You’ve gained, what, thirty pounds since you came home to be with your father?” Catrina asked, voice needling. “He was worried about you, you know. He talked about you so much at the end. All he wanted was his beautiful little girl back.” Catrina let out an incredulous little huff and Isobel’s hands balled into fists. She would not be goaded into reacting.

  “Of course a father is blind to his daughter’s flaws. You were a little porky pie back then too, weren’t you? But even he couldn’t deny what was in front of his face when you visited him every day. Who will love my Isobel when I’m gone, he’d ask me, looking like she does?”

  “Shut up!” Isobel glared at her stepmother and then she reached down and grabbed the protein powder container. “You’ve been adding this to my morning smoothies, haven’t you?”

  Upset at the unexplained weight gain, Isobel had gone back to her old habits of counting her calories religiously. She hadn’t struggled with her eating disorder for years. Being away at college, out of this toxic environment, it had been so much easier to establish healthy eating and exercise habits.

  But as soon as she got back here and Catrina’s constant verbal digs started up again, along with the unexplained weight gain, plus the emotional stress of everything with Dad, the old obsessions had started coming back.

  She hated that she could still be so weak. She’d assumed that she’d overcome all this shit for good when she kicked it the first time.

  So as a part of trying to get it all under control again, she made a gre
en veggie and fruit smoothie each night so she could just grab it and go the next morning on her way to the hospital.

  But if Catrina had been adding protein powder to her smoothies, that would explain the weight gain.

  Catrina’s eyes widened at seeing the container in Isobel’s hands, but then her features settled back into a calm mask of superiority. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Sounds to me like you’re looking to blame everyone else for your lack of self-control, just like always. Then again, you always were just looking for attention. What was it Dr. Rubenstein used to say? Poor little Isobel acts out and tells elaborate lies so people will notice her because she got addicted to the attention people paid her after her mommy killed herself. Though,” she sighed, “by the end, even he admitted crazy might just be in your DNA. But still, isn’t part of your therapy program taking responsibility for your own problems?”

  How dare she— To bring up Dr. fucking Rubenstein—

  Isobel screamed and threw the container to the ground, ignoring the powder that flew out of it as it fell.

  It wasn’t enough, though. Not nearly enough.

  She wanted to grab the pots that hung from hooks on the ceiling and fling them at the walls. She wanted to smash the coffee maker to the tile floor. Break it all. Tear it all fucking down—

  Catrina tutted, then shook her head at Isobel. “Oh darling, I promised Richard I’d take care of you after he was gone. He worried you might slip back into your…” she leaned in and whispered, “old habits.”

  She mimed sticking her finger down her throat and Isobel’s hands squeezed into fists so tight her nails cut into her palms. She needed to leave. To get the hell out of here before she did something she regretted. She turned to go but Catrina’s voice echoed across the kitchen.

  “Is poor Isobel going to run away now? You think you can just escape your problems like that? By running?” Catrina made a tutting noise. “That’s a coward’s way of coping. Then again, your mom took the easy way out too. Hanging herself from the ceiling fan like she did.” She shook her head. “And she was what, thirty years old?”

  “You’re almost twenty-five now, aren’t you? Everyone always said you’re so much like her. It’s cute you try to fight it but eventually you’re going to have to give into the inevitable. Frankly, I think Richard was glad to go before he had to see you institutionalized again.”