I'm so sorry it took me do long to update. I've been working on my other story and I kind of had a feels attack... So yeah. Enjoy! ;)
Clary hates balls. She hates them with her entire being. She had to squeeze into the suffocating dress with no bra and now has to schlep about on Jonathon's arm playing hostess with the demon Shadowhunters. She has to resist the urge to roll her eyes each time one of the demon Shadowhunters bow to her.
Jonathon had to drag her out of the closet earlier that evening. She had refused to come out in the dress she had blindly picked. Contrary to her first glance the dress looked like a strip of cloth on her tiny frame, barely covering her chest and coming to rest just below her ankles. Even so she feels so exposed every time someone turns their attention towards her, to gawk at the suddenly appeared daughter of Valentine. Her hair billows down her shoulders like waves of fire and her stunning green eyes are outlined in kohl.
Jonathon had said this was a celebration to her joining them. Though she had only come here yesterday and not let Jonathon out of her sight since then, she wonders when he had time to plan this. She'll ask him later.
After greeting all the guests, their names blurring together in Clary's mind, Jonathon sweeps her out onto the large tiled dance floor. The orchestra in the background starts to play Johannes Brahms Waltz and Jonathon places his left hand on her waist and his right holds her hand. The slow, light music seeps into Clary's chest and fills her with a sense of peace. She looks into Jonathon's black eyes, no longer an endless pit as they had once been but a sparkling, gleaming obsidian with moonlight silver, the only indication his pupil and iris were separate. Jonathon's smile is one of pure joy and happiness, devoid of any cunning or seductiveness, just pure bliss.
His smile lights up his face in a way she's never seen before and it makes her feel light. He sweeps her around the floor in graceful motions that only he can do. The crescendo and decrescendo of the violins causes Clary's chest to tighten as Jonathon continues to smile down at her, spinning her, holding her, gripping her hip lightly and not in his usual possessive manner.
Clary feels well enough; content enough to smile brightly back at her brother. She hasn't noticed that the other Shadowhunters have cleared out of the middle to give her and Jonathon the floor to dance. They all marvel at both of their grace and beauty but Clary is fully focused on her brother and he in turn completely focused on her.
They continue to waltz long into the next song and the next, content to stare at each other. They stay this way until someone taps Jonathon politely on the shoulder. Jonathon, in an uncharacteristically good mood, turns to the intruder though his expression sours slightly at the interruption.
"May I steal your partner for a dance?" the handsome, young boy asks. He is about Jonathon's age and height. His hair is a dark shade of black, rivaling the blackest parts of the night sky. His eyes are a striking shade of gray, like a boiling storm threaded with dark streaks of darker storm clouds.
Jonathon's expression sours further but nods in consent as he reluctantly hands Clary over to the lovely boy. Jonathon stalks to the edge of the floor, now filling once again with couples and starts to talk with a couple, around her mother's age. When Clary turns back to the mystery boy he smiles gently and brings her hand to her lips. He kisses it with a smile and says, "A pleasure to meet you Ms. Morgenstern. I've heard so much about you."
"It seems everyone has and yet I have not heard a single thing about any of you," Clary says lightly as the boy's hand rests on her hip and guides her to the new waltz playing.
"Well, we'll have to fix that won't we?" He replies with a smile. "I'm Michael Verlac."
Verlac. She feels a deep flush creep up her neck. "Verlac?" she asks cautiously.
"Yeah we run the French Institute and are rarely in Alicante but I'm sure you met my brother though. Sebastian?"
He doesn't know Jonathon killed him. She tries to keep her expression calm as she knits her eyebrows in thought. "I'm sorry but I don't think I have. Is he here tonight?"
Michael's expression doesn't change. "That's right, Sebastian never made it to Alicante, Jonathon killed him." Clary would expect this to be said with menace but Michael says it as though it were ordinary that her brother had killed his.
"I'm sorry," Clary says, keeping her voice low.
"Why? Sebastian died to help Jonathon and our cause. It was a righteous death," Michael says not taking his stormy eyes off her.
He's just another mindless slave, She thinks. Another brainwashed zombie, but he has an alertness about him that says otherwise. Not like the acuteness that Amatis had but an awareness, as if he knows exactly what he's doing. Once the song ends, Michael bows and kisses her hand again, leaving to melt into the crowd of finely dressed Shadowhunters.
Clary slips out of the middle of the floor and into the softly swarming mass of people. She suddenly doesn't want to be here. She doesn't want to see her brother, doesn't want to remember all the horrible things he's done by looking into those black eyes. Before she can reach the door, someone lays their hand on her shoulder. She jumps at the abrupt contact and spins around to see Jonathon with a smile tainted by confusion.
"It's just me. No need to get jumpy," Jonathon says calmly.
"Sorry," Clary says regaining her composure. "I just needed some air."
'"Well I can help with that," Jonathon says and loops her arm through his, guiding her off to the glass doors on one side of the ballroom. The Shadowhunters already on the balconies seem to take notice that there master wanted the area privately, they quickly stepped inside, leaving Clary and Jonathon alone on the long, dark terrace.
The stars gleam brightly in the sky like brilliant splashes of white were splattered across a blue black canvas. Clary breathes in the cool night air as she watches the waves crest gently over each other. Flashes of a burnt manor sprint across her mind as she leans against the railing. Jonathon loops an arm around her waist and pulls her close to him.
"I can tell when something's wrong you know? And it's rather obvious that you're trying to hide it from me," Jonathon says, standing behind her and kissing her neck.
"Nothing's wrong Jonathon," Clary says. Besides the fact you killed someone's brother in cold blood.
"You're a terrible liar. Don't make me force it out of you. You know I will," Jonathon says against her neck.
She knows he will and he can. He can pull every little detail from her if he wants to. Jonathon is now her weakness but she is his. She doesn't know, though, how Jonathon will react if she brings up his murders. He'll probably punish her in some way or another. It doesn't matter that she is now his angel he can still be a ruthless demon. She sighs and shakes her head slowly.
Jonathon's grip around her tightens but surprisingly not in anger. He spins her around to face him, his depthless black eyes searching her closed off, green ones.
"Clary," Jonathon's voice holds warning. She shakes her head again.
"I can't tell you Jonathon," Clary says quietly but firmly. Anger flashes across Jonathon's features but then regains his calm composure. He stands straight and walks back inside, leaving Clary to the warm night. She knows she's going to pay for that but at the moment she doesn't care. Either way he would have punished her, she decides this way is better because now Jonathon just wants information but doesn't know the content, which would surely result in a fit of anger.
Clary lets out a breath and turns back to the water. She rests her elbows on the rail and dips her head down. How did she come to this? Loving her brother. Everyone she loved died, that's what. She lets a tear slip down her face and fall towards the waves below. Just a miniscule addition to the vast planes of water, not making a difference and not big enough to cause a disturbance. She feels like that now, unimportant, small and unnoticed. She feels trivial to the whole Shadow world; no one cares about her, not really. Jonathon just wants her in body, he doesn't care for her. He just needs her to quench his demon. The Lightwoods throwing her out just shows she never really mattered to them anyway. If she did they would have understood that Jace's death wasn't her fault.
More tears fall down into the endless ocean, more minor, unimportant drops of water. She's only with her brother because she has nowhere else to go. She could go back to Luke's but there are too many painful memories there and she doesn't think she can bear the constant reminder of her lost family. How did her brother become the only one who would take her? And not even that. She looks up, staring across the water. She should leave, she needs to leave. She can go to one of the European Institutes and live there or she can go to Magnus and have him help her. He seems to be the only one who still genuinely liked her, surely after all the death she's suffered he would understand. He is immortal which means he's suffered countless deaths. She could go back to Luke's though, completely redecorate, tear out everything that reminds her of Luke or her mother.
She spins on her heel and walks back inside the crowded ballroom. Everyone is dancing and seems to be enjoying themselves. She scans the crowd looking for the telltale white blond that will undoubtedly stop her from leaving. She sees nothing so she slips along the side of the room towards the large doors standing open at the end of the room. In the hall she tries to remember the way back to the room so she can find Jonathon's stele. Halfway to the first corner she hears someone call her name and she freezes in horror, thinking that Jonathon has come to scold her and punish her but when she turns around she only sees Michael with a wide smile on his face.
"Clary," he says, "Where are you going?" He catches up to her and stands in her way of escape.
"Um, there were… too many people. I needed to get away for a moment," Clary says, hoping Michael won't catch the lie.
"You and me both. I've never really been big on crowds. But what are you doing out here in the hall? You could've gone out on the terrace." Michael's smile is sweet and innocent and Clary can't help but smile back.
"Oh, the breeze picked up and I don't really have anything covering my shoulders. What do you do for my brother anyway?" Clary asks, diverting the conversation. Michael doesn't seem to be under any influence but he has to be to forgive her brother for murdering Sebastian.
Michael perks up happily and squares his shoulders. "I'm his second in command," he says proudly.
"You must be a pretty good Shadowhunter then to be my brother's second," Clary says. Jonathon wouldn't pick just anyone to be his second. He would pick the best of the best of the best and then drill them to see who broke first.
"Third best in the world," Michael says.
"Only third?"
"Well I'm not special like you or Jonathon with your special blood. So yes third best, which is fine with me considering I'm ordinary," he says lightly.
Michael's words sting a little even if he didn't mean them to. He just reminded Clary that she is an experiment, a freak and so is Jonathon. She can't help but inwardly cringe at Michael's blunt statement. Sometimes she just wants to be ordinary but her father took that opportunity and ripped it up then burned the remains, scattering the ashes to the wind.
"Clary?"
The voice wipes her smile from her face as she hears Jonathon's footsteps down the hall. She turns to Michael and says, "It was nice talking with you."
Michael opens his mouth to reply but Clary spins around and dashes down the hall. She needs to leave and she knows Jonathon will stop her so she sprints around corners until she finds the room she originally was in. She throws open the door and quickly hurries to the closet, slipping out of her dress and into jeans and a loose shirt. She pulls on some boots and bolts back into the bedroom. She starts scouring the dressers and drawers, desperately searching for a stele. She runs back into the closet and rummages through Jonathon's clothes, searching his pockets and coats, praying he left one. She sees something gleam on the shelf next to her and she smiles in triumph. She grabs the stele and rushes back into the bedroom. Finding a blank wall, she starts drawing a portal rune.
She hears the door slam open just as she comes to the last line but doesn't finish as she is wrenched around and slammed against the wall. She hisses in pain as Jonathon grasps her wrist so hard she drops the stele. Jonathon presses his body into hers, pinning her against the cold wall.
"What are you doing?" Jonathon hisses.
"I'm leaving, Jonathon. I can't stay here," Clary says turning her face towards the wall.
"What do you mean?" Jonathon's voice immediately softens but his grip doesn't.
"I can't live with a murderer who only wants me for sex. I can't stay with someone who was my last desperate option after my entire family died and my friends left. I can't live with someone who doesn't love me," Clary says her voice starting to hitch then breaking down into agonized tears.
Jonathon immediately loosens his grip and Clary falls into him. He pulls her against him as sobs rack her body. "Clary that's not true. I do love you; I love you with all my heart and mind. Don't you dare think that I don't love you; I would raise hell and move heaven for you. I'm your family Clary and there is no way I'm letting you go again. I will never turn my back on you the way everyone else has done."
Jonathon tilts Clary's chin up with the side of his finger. "Can you please look at me?" Jonathon asks. Clary's eyes are squeezed shut but she reluctantly opens them to see Jonathon smiling at her sadly and it nearly breaks her heart. He's only ever vulnerable around her. Jonathon kisses her, long and sweetly, drawing at her lip and tangling his hands in her hair. "You are an angel. Forever and always my angel," Jonathon whispers against her lips.
"Jonathon, I can't. Not after everyone…" her voice catches, "I can't afford to love anyone else, they all seem to disappear like vapor," Clary says, tears still streaming down her face.
Jonathon takes her hands in his and presses them to his cheeks, his strong hands over her small ones. "Do I look like vapor to you?" Jonathon asks quietly. Clary shakes her head. "That's right because I am never leaving you and I am never letting you go." Jonathon presses another soft kiss to her lips, letting his mouth linger on hers as Jonathon drops Clary's hand and he moves his to her hips, pressing her lower half flush with his. Clary can feel Jonathon's want through his pants but she pulls away and turns her head away.
"How do I know you're not lying?" she says casting her eyes down towards the floor. She crosses her arms across her chest and hunches her shoulders, trying to withdraw from her brother but his grip holds fast.
"You don't but you're just going to have to trust me."
Thanks for the assurance. Jonathon holds Clary until her tears soak his shirt and she relented to putting her arms around him, returning his embrace. She buries her face in his chest and listens to his strong heartbeat, reverberating in his rib cage. Clary feels broken, shattered. She had her life ripped away from her not once but twice. Now the once chunks of her life are tiny granules that slip through her fingertips and she can't put them back together. She's not sure if anyone can put them back together, they are so thoroughly shredded.
"Do I have to go back?" Clary asks after a long silence.
"Go where?" Jonathon replies, confused.
"To that stupid ball," Clary mutters.
Jonathon chuckles and says, "No, you don't. It's just about over anyway. I'll go kick them out." Jonathon sets Clary down and walks out the door. Clary sits down on the large bed and places her head in her hands. What is she going to do? She's broken, shattered, unfixable. The grief she let slam down on her this morning now grips at her throat, threatening to choke her. What if Jace's death is her fault? She could have gotten to Jonathon if she had tried with the sword, then she wouldn't be here. She would still be living in the Institute with Jace but Simon and her mother and Luke would still be dead. Wouldn't Jace help make up for that grief though? Isn't Jonathon though? He seems to care about her so much. She can see it in the endless stretches of his black eyes but he was raised to display fake emotions, raised to deceive. Jonathon could be lying when he said he cares; he might just want her for her body.
The look in his eyes though, you can't fake something like that, you can't fake love. Can you?
Jonathon comes back in and sees his little sister bent over with her face in her hands. He knits his brow and walks over to kneel in front of her. He removes her hands from her face and gently kisses her. He knows he needs to distract her because if he doesn't her grief will crush her. Clary reluctantly returns his kiss and Jonathon keeps hold of her wrists until he releases them to run his hands along her sides, hiking up her shirt. Clary lets her hands wander up to his neck and tangle themselves in his hair. Jonathon slips Clary shirt off over her head, breaking the kiss for a moment before he moves to her neck and sucks, drawing at the sensitive skin there.
Clary's hands work down from Jonathon's hair to his tuxedo coat. She works it off his shoulders and he pulls the sleeves off before moving down to Clary's jeans. He makes quick work of them as he slides them off her legs and moves back up to her mouth. He places one kiss at her mouth and another on her jaw then moves to her ear. He nips at the cusp as he slowly leans Clary back on the bed. Clary lies on the soft comforter watching Jonathon with a somber look as he sheds his shirt and tie then his slacks, leaving him in his black boxers.
Jonathon is being gentle, more so than he first was and Clary knows he is doing it on purpose. She doesn't know why but it's for a reason because she can feel his demon raging just beneath his skin, demanding to be let out to ravish her. Jonathon leans over her and dips his hands behind her back to unclasp her bra then travels down her back to her rear and slides off her panties. He pulls down his own boxers and lowers himself over her. None of this seems hurried at all; Jonathon is taking his sweet time.
His hand slips down in between them and rubs her sweet spot in slow, meticulous circles while Jonathon kisses her sweetly. Clary moans against his mouth and Jonathon rubs harder. She arches her body into his as he draws his fingers away from her sweet spot and slips into her entrance. He slides them in and out leisurely, eliciting a whimper of pleasure from Clary. Wasn't she upset just a moment ago? She was, she was grieving over her family. She knows now why Jonathon is being so sweet and gentle and slow, he's trying to distract her. Turn her attention away from her grief. For the moment she lets him, he draws his fingers out and thrusts himself into her. Their hips press together as Jonathon continues at a mild, sweet pace.
They continue like that for hours, Jonathon going so slow it takes hours for them both to reach their highs and even then he continues his ministrations. He thoroughly and successfully scatters her every thought and only leaves her himself. The wild, white blond who can completely scramble her every thought and emotion. Eventually Jonathon stops and lays Clary under the covers, next to him. He slips an arm around her waist as she lays her head on his bare chest. She falls asleep curled against her brother's chest thinking about the subdued grief that is sure to greet her in the morning.