Flowers for the Devil

Prologue

Timothy Speaks:

This is a new novel idea I've tried to solidify for some time, but I just can't spin it right. So here it is. I know there's a lot of stories like this, but I'll try to make it as interesting as possible. Thanks thanks!

Prologue

Hell is empty.

There were countless things in life that satisfied Devon Grigori; his vast wealth, his superior intellect, his carefully-played out games. But one of the most satisfying things he prided himself to is the fact that whenever and wherever he walked, the crowd parted for him.

A slow smile spread across Devon's face as the crowd of students that loitered in the hallways of Cordia High fell into a hushed silence. The only thing he heard as he walked across the hall was the click-tap of his leather shoes—A. Testoni leather shoes, to be specific. It was oddly satisfying to know that every pair of eyes in that place was either gazing in adoration, seething in envy, or avoiding his glance. It was a common fact that he loved to be in the spotlight, and the only time the spotlight is not on him is when he wants it to be on you instead. It's all part of a game, where he's the host, and you're the contestant. There are no rules except for one; always win.

Hell is empty.

"I really fucking hate your dramatic entrances," Beside him, a girl twelve inches shorter than him muttered under her breath. If this was any other girl, Devon would have already banished her to the deepest holes in Tartarus and made her feel the shame of abandonment and isolation. But the girl walking beside him was not just any other girl; this girl was Matilda Nakamura.

And if Devon was willing to banish you to Tartarus, then Matilda could do the same, but she would escort you there, torture you along the way and make sure you never escape. This was one of the many reasons why Devon adored Matilda so much; her incredible dedication into something she focuses on is just incredible.

Hell is empty.

"Shouldn't you be used to this by now, Matty?" At the sound of Octavian's voice, Devon swore he heard at least thirty girls swoon and mentally scream for his name. Octavian must have heard too, since he glanced at his sides and winked, even blowing some kisses. The clueless girls lingering around their lockers had no idea they'd be a victim of Tav's inappropriate flirty gestures and barely concealed their gleeful shrieks.

There was another thing Devon forgot. It was a common fact that he loved to be in the spotlight, sure, but he loved it better when the spotlight is on him and his clique. And no one loved that better than the Crown Prince of Cadair, Octavian Conti-De Luca II. Tall, dark and handsome was the literal description for the young monarch of a place where people danced under the sun. Tav looked like someone who'd wear a gold crown perfectly, someone who'd sit on an ivory throne and stare at you with a predatory gaze.

Hell is empty.

"You should really stop doing that." Whenever Tristan spoke, flowers bloomed and the sun shone brighter. Devon liked Tristan, not because he was the son of an army commander or the personal bodyguard slash best friend of Octavian, but because even though he looked like someone who could squish you under his foot, he really would rather not.

But the moment you threatened to squish Octavian, he'd squish you before you're able to finish that threat. He wouldn't do it for Matilda, since Matilda can squish you herself, but in case of emergencies, Tristan would also do the same. He doesn't normally do it for Devon, since Devon would make sure no one would even be able to threaten him, but when Devon needs back-up, Tristan is there. Most of the time, Octavian is the damsel in distress, which was why Octavian and Tristan are always seen together, wherever and whenever.