CHAPTER ONE: WILLOW

Sunshine, if I ever disappear, please tell people that I ran after the Devil, trying to get my soul back. 
-April Genevieve Tucholke

Emma's

Emma Carter knows that everyone has secrets. 

It's inevitable. 

She knows that a lot of the time, their life is what's secret—some of the biggest parts of it anyway. Parts that they don't really hide but don't flaunts. 

Hers would look like "My father died by being shot." or "My mother's a drug addict." or "I tried to kill myself last year." 

Because no, she doesn't try to hide it. 

She doesn't take off her father's dragon ring from her neck, she doesn't wash her clothes every time they smell like smoke or pot, she doesn't hide the scars on her body or the bandages on her arms. 

But she doesn't report the drugs she finds or go to the school councilor, she's not in therapy even though she knows she should be.

Often, Emma feels small.

Anxiety and depression to Emma was a lot more than being nervous or shy. 

It's her entire body existing in a physiological and mental state of emergency in the absence of danger while her mind tried to convince her that she'd be happier shoving a pencil through her eye or jumping from a two story window just to see what would break.

Her home life doesn't help that.

Sometimes her best friend, Jessamine Thatch, does. She laughs with Emma and Emma knows the crazy girl is the only reason she has any semblance of a life.

Jessie can be a little over the top sometimes, but they were best friends and had honestly been through a lot together.

Emma wasn't about to give that up just because Jessie's a little annoying.

Often, Emma didn't care enough to show up to school on time and she's gotten detention for that and scolded by teachers but she didn't know how to tell normal teenagers and her teacher who only have normal worries and responsibilities that she's exhausted physically and mentally from just existing.

How can she tell them her insomnia—given to her by paralyzing fear of having a nightmare and trying to kill herself or just remembering the things she's been through—keeps her up most nights? 

She can't. 

That's the simple answer.

People act like they want to help her, they say they're her friend but when she needs them they aren't here. But Jessie was. She's held her when her arms were beat up and bloody and Emma was sobbing on her bathroom floor.

Jessie was also the reason Emma was introduced to the Devil.

Xavier Wolf.

Emma was hesitant at first, she knew that Xavier's reputation and many of the rumors weren't just random bullshit passed around like gossip.

He was violence, and cruel and snarky. He liked to punch things, people, and he didn't care about the cops.

That was... it was a little scary.

And that's without her factoring his impressively built frame, where he ranged about six and a half feet tall, imposing large hands that were often curled into fists, his lips that were always in a wild smirk or thin line. He had fangs, actual fangs, because his canines were sharpened naturally to a lethal point.

Which was weird and only a little intimidating when he snapped at someone.

Thankfully though, Emma has never heard about Xavier biting someone.

Because, as she walked into her first hour photography class, she realized that her best friend was sitting with Calum Hilton—who was called Angel, just to spite his best friend. She doubted Xavier felt spited, in fact, she doubted he cared.

There the Devil was, sitting in her chair, black combat boots kicked up onto the table with a cocky smirk on his face and his leather jacket draped across the back of the chair next to him.

Emma froze.

The look he was sending her told her that not only did he expect her to sit next to him, he expected her to want to sit next to him. Locking eyes with Jessie, who glanced away from Cal long enough to hold a simple thumbs up at her best friend, Emma realizes she was definitely in on this.

All to get more time with her boy toy.

Slowly, having heard him yell at other people for sitting by him before, Emma puts her backpack down before sitting on the edge of the seat, back ridged as to not touch his leather jacket.

Xavier scoffs, "Why so tense, Princess?"

The Devil was talking to her.

Strange.

"Am I supposed to sit here?" Emma asks, turning more to face him. "Or are you in my chair for no reason."

"You're sitting there, and I'm sitting here, it's as simple at that, Princess." Her eyes narrow at the nickname, head tilted to look at him and the smirk plastered across his face. "Would you rather be over there?"

He motions to his old desk, where Jessie and Cal were kissing each other hard enough to get nasty looks for other students. If their teacher walked in at that moment, they'd most likely get written up.

Emma pretends to gag, turning back to the Wolf boy. "Not at all."

So it was settled. The Devil and Emma Carter were sitting together.

And it was as simple as that.

↞♡↠

During photography, daily habits developed and, after a month, both Emma and Xavier were quite comfortable sitting next to each other.

No matter what time Emma made it to school—because it was mostly after the first bell and after their teacher dismissed them to continue their projects, where most students traveled outside to work—Xavier was waiting for her at their desk.

Half the time he was sleeping, but mostly he was doing something on his phone.

On some days, when she looks particularly pale or sleep-deprived, he would check her bandages and offer her his jacket to lay on while he took pictures around their spot at the back of the school under a giant willow tree.

Emma didn't work on their projects at all and would feel guilty for being such a freeloader if the Wolf boy didn't growl at her every time she touched his camera. It took her a while to figure out he actually cared about it.

Liked it, even.

The town devil, the bad boy, liked taking pictures of the robins and squirrels that made a home in the tree and found the flowers that grew at the base of it pretty.

Emma found him... oddly beautiful.

Because nobody could say that the Devil was ugly—that was impossible—but there was this charm to him that consistently drew her in.

He spoke like he knew better than everyone and, when someone dared challenge him, there was this smug look in his eye and he'd just motion to himself like "Come at me." Emma knew she shouldn't find that attractive, not violence anyway, but she did.

Not to mention the cocky smirks and glances he'd spare her, along with every dirty comment and "That's what she said." moment that made Emma want to pull her hair out the same time she wanted him to pull her hair.

Like, god dammit, he was so infuriatingly smug and so self-assured of himself but the confidence in his walk and the sly, snarky, fast-witted mind of his was so sexy.

How could she not want him?

And he didn't act like he expected her to fall at his feet, he didn't make any moves on her. Sure, he didn't really treat her like a friend either, they barely talked, but it was nice, how even when she was laying down, or sitting in front of him on their desk in a tank top and curve-exposing jeans, he gave her respect.

Maybe that was because she gave him the same respect, or maybe that's just the kind of guy he was, but for the Devil, he didn't seem like such a bad person.

Princess, that's what he called her, and it was a name she was getting used to.

He looked at her like she was something new that would lead him on an adventure and, at the same time, he treated her like she wasn't special—a part of her thinks he knows she appreciates that.

Because, maybe, with the marks on her skin Xavier already knew what Emma thought of herself.

Today was the same as always: Emma Carter got to school, passed annoying kids talking about a party she didn't doubt that Jessie would drag her to that weekend and when she opened her photography classroom's door, the Devil was there.

Xavier Wolf just gave her a feral grin, handed her a water bottle and his jacket, picked up his camera and walked them both outside.

Emma laid under the willow tree, reading a book she was honestly couldn't even remember starting, and listened as the Wolf boy climbed the tree behind her trying to get a good picture of a bird's nest without breaking it.

The delinquent was unbelievably gentle.

For a moment, she managed to worry about him falling but decided if him and his giant frame was going to take the risk of climbing that high, he could handle the consequences.

She did risky stuff sometimes, things that, if they went wrong—and they were often things that could quite easily go wrong—could kill her. Emma knew this wasn't fair to Jessie, who's already gone through her suicide attempt, and her 'friends' who might miss her.

But she can't help it—she's always thought she'd feel more alive if she was dead.

"Drink the water, Princess." The Devil calls down to her as Emma sees the long willow leaves ruffle. "I can see you wasting away down there."

Xavier started bringing her a water bottle every day after she nearly collapsed and Jessie, knowing what happened, made her drink a shit ton of water at lunch. Apparently, a passed-out girl wasn't something he wanted to deal with.

"Fuck you." Emma grumbled, hearing a growl echo out.

"What would your dad say if he heard you cussing like that?"

"Holy fuck," She squeals out mockingly. "I'm alive again and that's the first thing you say to me!"

The Wolf boy pushes one branch aside to let her see him, but she just flips him off. "You got daddy issues?"

Emma shrugs, raising an eyebrow at him. "Can't have daddy issues if your dad's dead."

Not knowing how to respond, guess that "Good point." isn't sensitive enough to reply with, even if it was a little funny, Xavier rolls his eyes and goes back to taking pictures.

She liked the questions he didn't ask.