The Devil - Rewritten

Prologue

PROLOGUE: COLLIDE

Abashed the Devil stood,
And felt how awful goodness is.
-Paradise Lost

Xavier's

It all started when Xavier Wolf walked into his Senior year's photography class.

A class that he didn't even want or need to take, without it he'd had enough credits. Yet still, he let himself get talked into it by his best friend.

Because his best friend would say "It will be fun!" and "All the Seniors who sign up for it get it together." and honestly, more than he wanted to have at least one class with someone he could tolerate, he just wanted that person to shut the fuck up about it.

Calum Hilton was more annoying than he was convincing.

But Xavier guessed he got what he wanted in the end, so it didn't matter what way he got it.

Often, the Wolf boy would solve problems with his fists. That's got him into almost as much trouble as his foul mouth did.

So him being the town's biggest delinquent—one of it's biggest problems—wasn't much of an overstatement. The stone faced, unaffected and normally secluded boy was called the Devil.

A nickname he got from his father. 

Something everyone from the police to his teachers called him—maybe it was due to the unnaturally sharp canines he inherited he'd use to snarl at people, his massive frame or the way his clenched fists were a threat of their own but it was rare for anyone to risk saying his name.

Making Xavier Wolf mad didn't usually end well.

People didn't like to bother him.

And well, nothing much bothered him anyway.

He was the Devil and he was surprised—no, not surprised, he was shocked—to stumble in step and feel his heart beat erratically in his chest the first time he saw her.

The brunette looked tiny, fragile in some fatal way as she sat atop one of the desks, jacket slack on her shoulders as she leaned back, tank top tight enough to show off her curves but loose enough not to get yelled at by a teacher.

The ends of her baggy jeans were tucked into dirty black boots, and, with one foot balanced on her knee, he could see that on the bottom of the sole the words 'Fuck Off' were sharpied into the boots.

Her brown hair was in a falling apart bun on her head and the girl looked like she could care less. 

There were red marks on her arm and she looked exhausted and, as Xavier passed her, walking slow, he realized she smelled like smoke.

It was the kind of smell that made him think of his father, who used to smoke in the house and car, sending him to school reeking of the stuff.

Xavier would rather a parent be smoking than her anyway.

The girl wasn't particularly attractive, she had bags under her eyes and a scowl on her lips where two snake bites curled around her lower one, but she was still pretty to him.

It helped that her pearl-grey eyes were stunningly captivating.

And she was sitting closer to him than anyone else, him at the back of the room and her just one desk up to the right. Calum would be the only person that could get in their way.

His fists clenched as he watched her sigh, hand coming up to grip her wrist as though she was in pain, making his ultramarine blue eyes narrow.

She was in pain.