Just be aware that it is rated M for a reason, it's not for sex. Sorry to disappoint on that one darlings, but read on! It's still good I think! Mwah! (I don't even know if I need to say it but of course, all characters belong to Cassandra Clare. I'm going to make that an acronym so I don't need to spell it out every time. ACBTCC. There. That's the acronym.
The music in the club was like the pounding beat of a drum. Izabelle Lightwood swayed with it, she was far too drunk to care that her head hurt and the music was bad. She was far too drunk to care that she had found an old scrapbook full of pictures of Max that afternoon. Normally, she would have called Simon but for some reason, she didn't want his empathy or kindness. She just wanted to forget. So she traveled out on a rainy Saturday night to one of her favorite clubs where she drowned her sorrows in alcohol and dancing with prowling men. Her vision was getting increasingly blurred; she had long forgotten how many drinks she had had. She pushed through sweaty, grinding bodies towards the ladies room. The darkness of the hallway leading to the bathroom soothed her head a bit. She stumbled down the trying to grab any tangible thing. She thought she was going to barf. She opened the door to the bathroom and sauntered in. She checked herself in the mirror and besides the drunken eyes she looked hot. She was wearing a black leather crop top that showed two inches of midriff and dark jeans. Her eyes were rimmed with enough charcoal that they looked smoky and beautiful. Plus, her seven inch high heeled black booties made her legs go on for miles.
She needed air. Suddenly, the bathroom felt tight as if there wasn't enough air to breathe anymore. She walked into the hallway and made her way to the exit sign. The cool dripping rain felt nice against her skin. She tilted her head back and closed her eyes. She felt… peaceful. She took deep breaths so sobs wouldn't rack her body again. She was so sick of crying. With the rain she could imagine that the hot tears streaming down her face weren't tears at all, just rain on a fall day. "Why ya cryin' babe?" A dark voice full of lust, interrupted her amity. Izabelle's eyes snapped opened to view this dangerous sounding stranger. He was tall, at least 6'2 and wore a dark coat. He was clearly high, his murky, dilated eyes told her. This was not good. She was too impaired to have the strength to fight. She didn't have any weapons on her, not even the pocket knife she kept handy for situations such as this. She had stupidly left it at home. She could barely walk down the hallway much less run from a huge, muscled, giant. She tried to press number one on her speed dial through her jeans. She prayed to God it worked.
The stranger closed the gap in between them and whispered in her ear, "You just need me to make you feel all better." Hands grabbed her hips, turned her and pinned her against the brick wall so hard she saw stars. She could feel him pressing up against her, murmuring in her ear that it was her fault for dressing like such a slut. That was it. Izabelle Lightwood was not one to be trifled with, even intoxicated. She flipped around to her front only to see knuckles connect with her cheek. She yelled out in pain, but was still able to knee the bastard in the balls. "Ahhh! You bitch!" The guy said, crumbling giving her time to get away. She sprinted/tumbled down the alleyway and had almost made it to the street when she tripped on something. Or just fell she wasn't sure. The sidewalk spun up and hit her so hard in the face that she could barely see two feet in front of her. She knew she had to get up, someone was chasing her, trying to hurt her. Pain suddenly exploded in her side, and hands dragged her back down the alleyway.
The stranger unzipped his pants and dropped them to the pavement. She lost it, and screamed bloody murder. A knock to the head with the strangers boot knocked her out. She vaguely heard voices, and moans and her mother's voice. Groggily, she woke up for a brief moment to hear, "Why the hell didn't she have a weapon? That guy could have-! By the Angel, I'm going to kill her." Her mother's voice shook angrily. "Mom, I know what she did was really stupid. And I'm ready to kill her too. But I found a scrapbook-"Alec's voice said, calmly. I love my brother, she thought dreamily. Sleep overtook her again. A hand was clutching on to hers. "If I hadn't gotten there in time, that fucking son of a bitch…" Simon said, furiously. Izabelle wanted to laugh, to tell Simon that she was fine, but her voice seemed to be gone. "Simon, the point is that you did. You saved her." Clary's alto voice rang. She smiled, and Simon gasped. She so desperately wanted to tell him thank you but she was suddenly exhausted again and the darkness preceded.
It was bright in the infirmary. Izabelle opened her eyes slowly, so her eyes could adjust. Finally, they settled on a familiar sight. Everybody was there; Clary, Jace, Simon, Alec, Magnus, Mom, and even her Dad. Her mom was the first to speak, "Izabelle Lightwood, do not ever do that again. Or I will skin you alive and give the rest to your father." Maryse said, firmly. Izabelle nodded slowly. "Thanks everybody for coming, but can I speak to Simon for a bit?" Izabelle's voice trembled. She was surprised at how weak she sounded and how much her body ached. Her face, her side, her knees, her hands, almost everything. Eventually, everyone filed out with some glares and mumbles. Only her brave, beautiful, boyfriend remained looking at her with a worried look. "Simon," Izabelle started, grabbing his hand, "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. Trust me on that one, I seriously doubt my mother will let me out of her sight." She tried to chuckle, but the mood remained tense.
"Izzy, I thought-"Simon's voice broke for a second, but he cleared his throat and powered through. "I found you lying on the street passed out. And this fucking asshole had his pants down and was about to-! If I had gotten there one second later…"Simon's face turned red with fury. "So he didn't?" Izabelle said, as quietly as she could muster. Simon shook his head no, "I broke his nose and possibly his penis." Izabelle laughed weakly, "How did you break that?" Simon smiled wolfishly, "I kicked him really hard between the legs." Izabelle pulled him down and rewarded him for his bravery. Simon pulled away from the kiss first, worried face back. He stared intently into Izabelle's eyes. "Please, don't make me ever have to go through that again." He whispered. "Or I might have to withhold sex." He said pulling back, smiling again. Izabelle rolled her eyes, "I have quite the romantic for a boyfriend." And after a few seconds, she smiled and said "I love you."
Simon kissed her nose softly, "I love you too. I will always protect you, even though you will probably be the one protecting me. I will protect you from any harm that comes to you that I can stop. Because I love you, and I am in love with you, Izabelle Lightwood."
Countless guys had said I love you to Izabelle. But none of them had said it with any real affection, they just wanted to get into her pants.
Tears rolled down her cheeks, and for the first time in forever it wasn't because she was sad.