Nineteen-year-old Snow White sat on the edge of a bridge, gazing into her venerably beautiful reflection in the water below. Her lovely complexion, bright red, luscious lips, and darkly wicked sharp green eyes. Her gown was ivory with actual blossomed red roses along the bodice, held in place by magic. She'd love her dress more if the roses were black, but she had to keep the town's image of her from being plagued by black roses.

She was proud of her beauty but also felt she was unique.

Everyone she met wanted to be "nice" and prided themselves on being "good people". Especially that Ogre Slayer. Who always made the "right" choice.

SnowWhite had no such longing. She privately despised all those goody-goodies. Especially that wolf-girl, Red. She reeked of desperation to be liked because she was human.

Recklessly, Snow White bit into a syrup-filled chocolate cherry, not caring if it gave her cavities.

There was a deer slowly heading her way. Snow White's gaze sharpened. Inching through the woods below and to the side of the bridge. Nuzzling the dewdrop-ridden leaves on trees. Its eyes wide and innocent. Its lashes full of beauty.

Snow's jaw tensed as she smugly ogled the curling lashes. She fingered the pistol at her hip then quickly swirled her gaze around.

Even though she was a (barefooted) princess, she was mercifully alone. No bodyguards. No villagers hunting for a piece of her to rip off so they could brag to their friends, "This is the princess' hand! See her ring?"

She removed the pistol from its holster. Switched off the safety. Aimed. Pulled the trigger.

The bullet flew in spirals. Shot out like a rabbit rushing from its hole in a sudden fire. It plunged itself directly between the doe's beautiful eyes.

The doe fell forward, crumpling upon her foreknees. Her back legs remained straight as she screamed her last.

Snow White found it odd that such a quiet animal could utter such a bellow.

"I saw that."

Snow White whipped her neck—and pistol—in the direction of the voice. Tense and ready to kill the owner to prevent word from spreading. Word of her callousness. She needed the element of shock to stun all future victims. She needed to conceal her thirst for darkness, even if it meant killing lightning-quick without giving someone a chance to bore her with promises to keep his voice as locked as if she slit his tongue off.

His eyes stopped her from squeezing the trigger. Caused her fingers to drop.

Her lips parted with desire and surprise.

Those eyes were wild with excitement. Drunk on her.

He didn't have the etch of sanctimonious appall or repulsion tensing his eyes.

Swiftly, she relatched the safety and returned her gun to its holster.

"That was a great shot." Admiration dripped from his vocal cords.

"Wasn't it?" she purred.

"My twin couldn't do that," the man asserted. "But he would shoot an apple off someone's head. He just…thinks he's too good to be true."

"What's your name?"

The man strode up to her, got down on one knee, and kissed her wrist. "James, Princess. My name is James."

Her heart sweltered. She loved him already!

With his lips against her knuckle, he marveled, "I had heard of your outward beauty and so desired a glimpse. You are certainly stunning, but more than your face, I find your actions far more attractive."

Snow White's heart swooped. Though why it should, she couldn't say. Because the fact was she felt a connection to James. It struck her that even if they didn't speak, the other would read gestures. She'd never felt this powerful way before and had met numerous bores.

And that was how, unaided by a poison apple, Snow White came to share Love's First Kiss with her true love, James. A man who understood and encouraged the darkness tainting her soul.