Warning: Character death and tears.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the plot (and maybe not even that).

Inspiration: Stone Mattress by Margaret Atwood

1.1

Pandemonium.

I inhale the scent of sweat, smoke, and alcohol. My corner is shielded by large masses of swaying bodies and relatively cool compared the thick, musty atmosphere all around. I twirl the glass of red wine between my fingers, eyes roaming the oblivious people seemingly aimlessly. When my gaze lands on the gorgeous blond leaning against the bar counter, I smile and take a sip of the wine before placing it on the nearest table. My boots clack beneath me.

I'm within a radius of less than two meters from him when he notices me with his molten eyes. The side of his lips curve upwards and he tilts his head towards the empty stool beside him, which I take gracefully. My fingers tap on the marble and he snaps at the bartender, beckoning him to us. I lean my forearm onto the counter and order a martini with a twist. The blond smiles and doubles it.

"You came alone?" he asks in a deep, rich voice.

I smirk. "Scared that my boyfriend's going to get you?"

"I just don't believe a girl as beautiful as you can stay single for more than a week at a time." He's laying on the flattery pretty thick.

I play along and say, "Maybe because my week isn't up yet. Ever thought of that?"

"I guess it's my lucky day, then," he whispers and introduces himself formally. "Jace."

"Clary," I answer and bite my lip. Jace notices the movement and grins.

"So, Clary," he says so sinisterly that I can't help but listen, "is there anyone waiting for you at home?"

I know what he's trying to get at and smirk. "Nope. I'm free all night."

The martinis arrive and I tear my eyes away from his flawless face. The drink is sour, and I wrinkle my nose in disdain. Pandemonium's reason for survival is purely because there are no other nightclubs on the block. If there were, it would be out of business in a month. Maybe I'll cave in and donate a stash of pity money for them. After all, it served well as my hunting grounds for quite a long time. Four years.

"My house or yours?" he asks, propping both elbows onto the counter. The position makes his thin white shirt strain against his biceps and I almost lick my lips at his muscular form. I can't wait to get my hands on him.

"Yours," I reply breezily. Mine is a tad bit too...messy.

He throws a twenty onto the table and holds out his hand like a gentleman. I giggle and place my hand in his. We walk out of the humid club and he opens the door of a sleek red luxury sports car parked out at the front and I slide into the passenger seat, enjoying the cool night air as it makes my hair bellow behind me. Jace walks around the front of the vehicle and gets into the driver's side, revving the engine and stepping on the pedal. His walk is so sexy I want to devour him right then and there, but I hold myself back.

The fun hasn't even begun yet.

...

1.2

Sunlight filters through the window and I lift my arm to block the annoyance. I turn away from it, and yesterday's events suddenly come back when I see Jace next to me, his arm around my waist. It was incomparable to any other night I ever experienced, running my fingers along his muscled back and letting him push into me, feeling his incredible length make me moan out his name. He'd fallen asleep before I did, and I pity how many hours mundanes have to waste on re-energizing their simple brains and weak bodies. But Jace. He had one hell of a body, that's for sure.

He sighs in his sleep and snuggles his face between the contours of my shoulder. His voice is thick with sleep when he says, "Clary."

I smile and brush my fingers through his soft golden curls. "Hmm?"

"What time is it?" His innocent question almost makes me laugh.

"Not time to get up yet. Go back to sleep," I murmur into his hair, and I think he sighs in contentment. A sudden pain spreads through my face. "I'll be in the bathroom if you need me."

I slip away from his reach and quickly enter the washroom. When I look into the mirror, what I see confirms my suspicions - my disguise is wearing off. Silently, I open the bathroom door and peak at Jace, who turns out to still be asleep. Good.

My hands unlatch the window and I jump out nimbly, the warm summer air blowing against my bare skin. Off to my right, a boy lingers at the end of the alley, alone, and before I begin heading towards him, I will clothing over my naked body. He sees me and his eyes widen in horror. Goodness, is so much of the paint gone?

He doesn't even scream when my teeth sink into his neck, drawing out the blood efficiently. It tastes salty and hot, and I my tongue runs over my lips to clean them from the dark red liquid. Remembering Jace, I crawl back into the washroom and shed my clothes while looking into the mirror - I'm mundane-looking again. I open the door and slip back into bed, which is deliciously warm even for my demon standards. Jace's heat rolls off of him and I giggle at the comfiness. He smiles himself and I snuggle closer, hoping that the moment would never end.

2.1 | Four months later

"I love you, Clary," he murmurs into my ear.

I smile and let him sway us to the slow beat. But something in me stutters when he says it. I have heard the line too many times to count in the past four years, knowing that the blood of someone who loves me would taste infinitely better, but never have I felt anything in return. This time, however, I can feel my heart pounding louder and faster and my muscles tense. I force the words out. "I love you too."

I can feel him smile and his hold on me tightens, his strong arms wrapping around my hips protectively. I think back to the four months since we met at Pandemonium, the process of realizing who he really is and what he truly stands for. I remember our first date at the expensive Japanese restaurant and how I pretended to love the cardboard-tasting food. No doubt it was delicious for Jace, but I can only appreciate human blood and flesh. I remember him taking me to Disneyland and the numerous roller coasters there, to Epcot and Universal Studious. He'd raised his eyebrows when I told him I had no idea what Harry Potter was, but kissed me on the cheek and told me it didn't matter, promising that he'd make every day a thousand fold more magical for me that anything Harry Potter could conjure up. I remember Jace teaching me to swim, and I was afraid that the water would wash my appearance away. I told him that, and he'd said he didn't care if I looked like a human or a monster - he would always love me, forever and ever.

But I am.

A monster.

I am a monster and a villain, but why can't the bad guys in fairy tales love too? And that just makes me wonder whether or not I have any feelings for Jace at all, or if I'm just attracted to his heady scent and rushing blood. I want to love someone, I do, but can I?

"Ew, you guys are gross!" a tiny voice comes from the doorway. Both Jace and I turn quickly, knocking heads by accident. Max has his nose wrinkled at us, and I have a sudden urge to bite it off. The first time Jace introduced me to his little brother, I'd developed a lust for his blood. Children blood is so much more precious. Perhaps almost as precious as Jace's. What's worse is that I'm starving. The pain in my stomach increases day by day, but I'm determined to not kill in front of Jace. What would he think of me then? He showed me how to live like a human, and I love it. Before, I'd ridiculed their outlandish lifestyles, but now I know that it's just what makes them happy. And for some reason, it makes me happy, too.

Jace grins and shoos Max away, but his gaze lingers on me uncomfortably. Something in his eyes makes me clench my muscles, and for one moment, it seems as if he knows what I am. But he skips away, closing the door, and I tell myself that I'm becoming paranoid. How could such a youngster possibly know me for who I am? Still, I decide to avoid him as much as possible from now on, not willing to take any risks.

I can't kill the little guy, can I?

Jace will never be the same.

...

2.2 | Three weeks later

The hunger is terrible.

Jace snores softly beside me, so I take the chance to set out on a hunting errand. When I try getting out of bed, I discover just how weak I am. For the past several days, I'd lied and said I was sick. Jace took it upon himself to look after me, bringing me breakfast in bed and sweetening bitter medecine. Of course, I can't taste a thing, but I scrunch up my face to pretend I can. Now, as I stumble to my feet, I can hardly walk. My heart pounds with fear.

I must not lose it.

But I do. The burning smell of blood leads me to only Jace and...Max. I'd completely forgotten about him.

Agonizingly, I creep into the door across from ours, cracking it open infinitisimally.

Without a second thought, I lunge.

My teeth sink into beautifully soft flesh and I gulp greedily, cutting off the screams with the position I chose to drink from. It's so incredibly and wonderfully delicious that I let out a low moan, digging my claws into his skin and feeling the pumps of his heart get more frantic and labored. There's more blood in him than I'd hoped for and I let the warm liquid flow down my tongue and throat and into my thirsty stomach. The pain gradually diminishes, and that's when someone says, "Jace!"

My mind doesn't process the voice quickly enough, and when I do, I bring my mouth away from the person lying beneath me.

No.

Jace's breathing is ragged and harsh, his chest rising and falling rapidly. A gash is opened on his throat, just below his jaw, which bleeds profusely.

"Jace!" Max cries out and flings me out of the way with surprising strength for his tiny form. "Jace, no!"

I don't understand.

Before I can stop myself, I tear Max off of his dying brother and bring my hand brutally across his face. The force breaks his neck.

I rush to Jace's side, lifting his limp, heavy head onto my lap. Tears that I didn't know had appeared run down my cheeks as I let out a strangled animal sound. Did I do this? I couldn't have. But did I?

His eyes flutter open, golden irises piercing through mine. The only thing I can think of say is, "Why? Why did you do it?"

"Because..." He coughs, blood spilling over his lips and down the side of his face and chin. Beyond help. "I don't want you to kill anymore."

His words stop me in my tracks and I stare in horror at the fading light in his eyes as I finally understand. I whisper, "How did you know?"

"That's not important," he rasps, before coughing again. I can hear the rattle in his chest as his heart struggles to circulate what remaining blood he has in his body.

"Jace-"

"I needed you to know what losing someone feels like," he breaks me off, and his eyes flutter closed. "Leave Max alone, Clary."

He's dead, I'm about to tell him, but something keeps me from saying it. Something powerful and terrible that washes over me, preventing me from telling him the truth. The feeling is both brilliant and crushing, as if it's a burden I cannot carry. In the back of my mind, I know what it is.

Love.

And then there's hate. Hate, because Jace is leaving me. Hate, because he chose family over me. Hate, because he's right and always was.

The hatred boils so deep, too deep.

With one clawed hand, I dig into his chest, blood meeting my fingers, and crush his heart.

I love him.

I hate him.

I killed him.

And as the bones in his ribcage collapse and his heart becomes punctured with five tearing holes, Jace smiles a dying smile, because he knows.

I will never kill again.

...

3.1

Late at night, in the heart of New York, the sky is filled with a broken demon's screams.

...

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-RtMiP