Clary sighed, scrunching up another page from her sketchbook and throwing it in the trash bin. She had been at this for hours. Yet, no matter what she did, she just couldn't get him right. And she thought it had been hard to draw him before this Heavenly Fire set in. She had to laugh at herself.
Now Jace had this ethereal glow about him. And it was apparently impossible to capture with simple pencils. Not that Clary had limited herself. She had also tried using pastels, paints, even crayons. Now, she had to admit that she was persistent, bordering on obsessive. But this was really just a distraction. A distraction from a much bigger problem that couldn't be so easily dealt with.
Jonathan/Sebastian, her own brother, was out there somewhere. Ripping the wings off angels for her. When she had finally been told about the lovely present he had sent to the Institute, Clary had tried to act strong. But she horrified. Beyond disturbed.
So she had finally let herself cry in private. Let loose all the emotion that had built up over the impending battle, the leftover guilt about hurting Jace, the current worry she had about his condition that was not resolving itself. The Silent Brothers were at a standstill. It had been two weeks of searching old records and books only to come up empty. Jace said he could handle it. That he was beginning to learn control over the Heavenly Fire. But Clary could see the weariness in his eyes. He was scared of hurting her.
Just as Clary began to tear off another page that had turned into a doodle of runes, she heard a familiar voice from her doorway. "No wonder you're having so much trouble. I can't imagine the skill it takes to capture this sexy masterpiece on paper," Jace gestured to himself in length while leaning against the doorframe. His usual smirk in place.
Clary rolled her eyes and swiveled her desk chair around to face him. "Stop by just to underestimate my skills?" she asked skeptically. "Of course not. I wanted to allow you the allotted time to swoon over my handsome face that you're not allowed to touch," he said with a wink. Clary gave him a sad smile. It was true, after all. They had been keeping their physical contact to a bare minimum. Mostly because the last time they got carried away, Clary ended up with singe marks on the waistband of her jeans. She joked that at least it hadn't been her face. Jace had hardly touched her since.
"How did the training go today?" Jace had been training with Brother Zachariah every day since he was healed enough to swing a stele. While he insisted he was gaining control, he was still standing on the other side of the room. Clary felt the loss of his touch more each day.
"I would rather talk about all the ways Simon and Izzy have been emotionally damaging me with their couple banter. Or Magnus' new haircut."
"Magnus got his hair cut again?" Clary exclaimed in mock excitement.
"I couldn't believe it either. But it really sets off these new leopard pants of his."
"I get so flustered when you talk fashion."
"Just wait until I tell you what this vampire girl down at Taki's was wearing the other day. Four words: White after Labor Day."
Clary decided to ignore him at first, risking the few steps over to the door, to stand in front of Jace with her hand resting lightly on his muscled chest. "No girl likes to hear her boyfriend talk about other woman," she said, looking right into his eyes. He stared right back. "You know you hold my heart," Jace traced his finger gently down the side of her face, all traces of humor gone. Clary felt her heart jumpstart at the touch, and not from the mild heat that hung on his skin, as if he had been sitting in the sun for hours. She missed him. And she could see in his eyes that he missed her too.
With slow movements, Clary leaned up on her tiptoes to touch her lips to Jace's. At first he was hesitant, testing himself. Suddenly the burning heat Jace felt wherever Clary's light fingers brushed his skin was too much for him to ignore. He flipped her over, pushing her back against the wall. Week's worth of passion poured out of each of them and into the other. Jace had a hand on the wall on each side of Clary's head, twirling her fiery hair between his rough fingers. Clary moaned against him as their tongues battled, feeling her hips move on their own, pushing into Jace's body.
Soon Jace had his hands all over her, brushing the sensitive spots on her neck, pulling at her hair, grazing his hands over the hard tips of her breasts. Clary was both exhilarated and nervous. They had gotten this close to each other only one other time. In Paris, that one awful and wonderful night Jace had been himself, even under Sebastian's control. Clary wanted that again. But this time it would not be tainted by her fears, or by her brother. This time, it would just be them.
Clary started to feel Jace's tightly wound self control begin to slip, which didn't help her raging hormones slow. Her hands were playing with the hem of his shirt, sliding it up to feel the smooth planes of his chest. She shivered, imagining them pressed up against her own skin. Then, so quickly she didn't even realize he had moved, Jace ripped himself away from Clary and was on the other side of her bed, as far away as he could get.
He was breathing hard, his lips flushed from kissing, shirt disarray, and hair messy, eyes bright but haunted. He was the most beautiful thing Clary had ever seen. And she wanted to touch him again. But before she could even take a step Jace held out his hand. "About my training. I've decided to quit."
