She tasted like copper, tang and metal faint on her lips. The smell of drying paint and blood permeated in the air and all Jules wanted to do was suffocate from the smells. He ran his tongue along the roof of her mouth, tasting more copper and he groaned as she grounded her hips into his. His hand, the one that wasn't pinning her wrists to the wall, moved from cupping her cheek to sliding down her chest. He felt her breasts, the softness of her skin and the thin fabric of her shirt against his palm as he reached under the hem of her shirt. There was a rough patch of skin he felt as his fingers gliding up towards her bra. A scar she had gotten from a negotiation months ago when she had gone to discuss the terms of a Downworlder wanting to live on the lands.

She had lived, walked out that room with a few cuts and a scar from when the demon attacked her with its claws, but the demon had not. She had come to him the same way she came to him now. Fresh off a hunt, fresh from a kill and all his darling huntress wanted to do was fuck and be fucked in return. Her hair, a lovely scarlet hue he wanted to forever bury his fingers in and see if he could paint stories of the blood she'd split with each follicle, tickled his cheek. Jules growled against her lips, pulling away.

"By the Angel," he whispered. "You're going to be the death of me woman."

She snorted at him. "Such a silly saying," she said, speaking of his declaration as she removed herself from his hold.

"What were you doing, this evening my dear huntress?" Jules asked as he watched her walk towards his canvas.

"I did a little task today," said his lover. She hummed and rested her chin in the palm of her hand. "What do you call this piece, little Blackthorn?"

Julian Blackthorn, though he preferred to be known as Jules, walked up to his lover. In the three years he had been with her and in the company of her brother by extension, she rarely referred to him as little. Jonathon might have, but that was because to him, he truly was a child. Someone little to scold and teach. But not his huntress. No, Clarissa saw him as someone who can be taught and can be loved. It was the one thing she would never give up from her old life.

Love.

Jules could remember hearing Jonathon say that even with her dark heart, Clarissa loved. She loved Jules and she loved Jonathon. To some extent, she still loved her mother and step father. Stepped behind Clary, he wrapped his arms around her. "I haven't named it yet."

She nodded, a smirk on her face as he kissed behind her ear. "Why haven't you?"

"Because my mind had been elsewhere," he whispered into her ear.

"Where?"

"The night we consummated our relationship," Jules said and spun her around, Her eyes widened at his boldness and he smiled as he held her waist. "And the night after that and all the nights after that when our bodies met. It was there this morning when you awoke me to worship your body and right now, it's there right now. Do you know what I wish to do to you, Clarissa?"

Clary tried and failed to fight her smile. "What is it, you want to do?"

Jules lifted her up, wrapped her legs around his waist and he took her over to his bed and laid her down. "Ravish you," he whispered into her neck and kissed her.

:::

"Was that necessary?"

Clary stared at her brother as they stared down at corpse. Jonathon, her darling but stupid brother, had decided to kill first and ask questions later. Jonathon shrugged at his sister's question and answered. "Yes it was."

"Why?" she snapped. "We were supposed to send a message to them."

"And we did," he said and watched as the doors flew open behind them. They could hear the footsteps and Jonathon spared at quick glance over his shoulder to see their mother was with them. He turned back to Clary. "After all, sister, I do believe in killing the messenger. Know why? It sends a message."

Clary sighed and looked over at her mother. She would give Jonathon his due, it most certainly did.

Jocelyn stared at the two figures standing over the now dead body of a mundane. She couldn't believe, but she did. It was them. Her heart began to race as she stared at her children. Her daughter, the spitting image of her, and her son; her ex-husband's reflection. Jocelyn opened her mouth to call for them but when Clary spared her a glance over her shoulder, she stopped and her heart plummeted into her stomach.

"Hello mother," said her daughter. Her voice was sharp like a knife though it was also sweet like chocolate. "It's been a while."

"Five years," Jonathon added with a shrug. "Did you miss us, mother?"

Jocelyn opened her mouth to speak when another stepped forward. Clary smiled bitterly at the new comer. "Hello Robert."

"Clarissa Adele Morgenstern," said Robert as he stared down the young woman who once was the lover of his adopted son. He turned to the murderer who took his youngest from him. "Jonathon Christopher Morgenstern, the two of you are under arrest."

"For treason, murder, kidnapping, conspiring against the Clave," Clary spoke with a bore. She waved her hand as if swatting away a fly. "Let me guess, you're also going to add breaking your son's heart to that list. Is Jace still bitter?"

Jonathon smirked. "I would hope not."

Clary's smile was menacing. "Considering he'd laying down with a dog, I would't think so."

The siblings shared a small laugh. Jonathon waved his hand once more and a portal appeared before the four. Jonathon. "I'm so happy we could have this chat," Jonathon said and watched as Clary pulled a dagger from her wrist compartment and launched it at Robert. The blade landed between his shoulder neck. He fell to the ground, blood spurting from his neck.

"You can add attempted murder as well," she grinned and walked towards the portal. Jonathon didn't even spar his mother a glance as he walked into the portal. Jocelyn watched as it closed behind them, taking her children from her once again.

Jocelyn turned towards her friend and former Circle member. She rushed over and set him up, pulled the knife from him and applied pressure. He needed medical attention and that would have to come first before her children.

Almost everything did nowadays.