White as snow, red as blood, black as ebony. Fairy-tale beauty made flesh had one rule: Nobody gets close to her son. Fate—or the Norse Gods—had other plans:
Shove me on a pitch-black parking lot.
Drop a six-foot-six Sons of Ragnarök patch-wearer—inked, ruthless, and fourteen years my senior.
I’m frozen in terror.
My fearless two-year-old with zero sense of danger?
Both arms. Open wide.
And the Beast takes my boy like he’s always belonged to him.
—
Annika’s already buried one man she loved. She’s still haunted by the ghosts of her past.
Drugs. Whores. Viking brutality. Ronny “Leif” Reinhardt rules the Sons of Ragnarök with absolute power.
Innocence has never been his weakness. Until a tiny redhead barrels into his life and the beast finally meets his match. The feeling is foreign, dangerous, and fuckin’ addictive. Suddenly he’s everywhere.
Watching. Guarding. Smirking.
He calls it coincidence. Her head? Calls it obsession. Screams: run! Her body? Starts sending SOS.
But the most terrifying part?
He doesn’t rip Annika’s clothes off.
He looks her in the eyes and asks, “May I?”
There’s no going back. The poison apple is already bitten. ONE BITE, and you’ll be stuck in Germany’s industrial wasteland where the darkness hits harder—not for lack of light, but because hope, love, and beauty only increase the level of destruction. A dark, twisted Snow White retelling × outlaw biker romance. ONE BITE, Snow White… and the Beast never lets you go. Five books. One arc. This is where the saga begins.
One warning before you bite:
It is not for soft Disney princesses. But it’s not for those expecting blood, grief, and questionable consent on every single page either. The full dark romance × twisted Brothers Grimm fairy tale retelling potential isn’t delivered like instant soup. Think of a five-course menu. It doesn’t start with the heavy tastes. It starts with an amuse-bouche.