And so, she snuck out of her house for the hundredth time, after her adoptive father had gone to bed. She stopped by her garden and plucked a couple of belladonna blossoms, weaving them into her hair. She was poisonous and poised to strike. She was power, and though she hadn’t been able to save Raven from his wicked stepmother, she could give him something to live for.

Love gave meaning to life. Belle was certain of this as she hurried down the block, turning left toward the nicest house in town. Belle’s house was fairly nice. Her father was a philanthropist, drowning in old money, but even he couldn’t compete with the grandeur of Holloway Manor.

That elegant, haunted house.

It hadn’t always been haunted. Less than two years earlier, Arianna Holloway had lived within those stone walls and tended to the roses in the garden. She’d been more alive than anyone Belle had ever met. More like a mother, too, than anyone else in Belle’s life. When Belle had first met Raven, she’d told herself stories about moving into that house and living as Arianna’s child.

Now that had been a beautiful fiction.

Still, she’d bonded with Arianna during school functions, and she’d snuck over to the orchard in the middle of the night more times than she could count. She’d come as close as she could to becoming a part of Raven’s family, and someday, when they were older, she and Raven would get married in that orchard.

And Arianna would smile down at them from the heavens.

Belle sighed as she slipped through the back gate of the Holloway estate. Maybe that night, she and Raven could sneak out to the orchard with a blanket, and they could lie down beneath the great, dark sky. The moonlight would reflect in his eyes, and she would trail her fingers over his chest, finding his heart. She’d never slept with anyone before, but she thought it should start that way. With a heartbeat pulsing softly against her skin.

They could never lose sight of their love for each other. No matter how far away he went, the memory of her touch would stay with him, just as she’d always remember the feeling of his heart in her hand. She knew she was taking a risk. The two had only kissed before that night, and there were so many things they could’ve done before doing everything, but… she wanted to give this memory to him. She wanted to give it to herself, and if it broke her heart to be so close to him only to feel him wrenched away from her, well, she could handle it.

She could handle anything.