Another chapter! Huzzah! Hope you guys enjoy this one, I put a lot of work into it and honestly if you guys post negative reviews I'll stop writing this kind of stuff because I understand that it crosses a line but that is the point of these kinds of stories. This is the kind of story that explores the darker morals of humanity(not that Jonathan has any.) So these stories are not for the faint of heart of the close-minded but I am so happy that so many people read it and like them. Thanks so much! Enjoy the chapter.
Clary's body is pulsing with heat as she wakes up. It's not like the last few times, where she forgets where she is, what's happened. She knows exactly where she is and she isn't entirely sure she wants to be here. She still doesn't know if she can condemn her once friends or handle a war or even Jonathan. All he seems to want her for is just to have her, to possess her. She can feel Jonathan's cheek pressed against hers and his arms locked around her, as though he knows what her first thoughts this morning would be.
Maybe she shouldn't be here; even with Jonathan's insistence and his touch maybe she isn't meant to be here. She shouldn't be planning a war, sleeping with her brother. Admittedly, she's not complaining about that part, she loves how he can make her come undone and the feel of his hair between her fingers. She runs her hands through his hair now, feeling it softly fall between her fingers. Maybe he's just using her and when he's done with her he'll dispose of her, just like the Lightwoods.
She hears him groan and he shifts against her, pulling her back down under the covers. She needs to leave, even if she has nowhere to go, she needs to go. She needs to get away from war, from people, from Jonathan, if only to protect herself; she needs to go somewhere where she can just forget everything, if only for a little while. She'll need to find a stele first and get away from Jonathan. He'll never let her go, before he would have killed everyone she loved but now… she has no one left. She can leave freely without fear of Jonathan hunting everyone down.
She can't go now though, Jonathan is half conscious and even like this he won't let her leave, his iron grip locked around her. He'll hold her down and put some immobility rune or tie her up and throw her in a cell. She'll have to wait until Jonathan is occupied with something else. For now though it wouldn't hurt to… comply with his needs, give him more than he expects so he won't suspect what she is going to do. She wants to indulge herself too before she seals herself in isolation, away from people and the Shadow World and all its chaos.
She runs a hand over his cheekbone and a smirk crosses his face, even though his eyes are still closed. His hand splays across her lower back and presses her against him. She smiles, letting herself enjoy this before she disappears, she wants to absorb the physical touch of someone, the heat and feel of someone pressed against her, even her brother.
She grabs his chin between light fingers and touches her lips to his. It is only light for a moment before Jonathan surges forward and straddles her, pressing her back into the mattress. One of his hands is braced beside her head while the other cups her cheek. Jonathan had put boxers on sometime this morning but that doesn't stop him from pressing himself against her so she can feel his desire through her shorts. His want pressed against her makes her core buzz with anticipation and she locks her ankles at the small of his back and loops her arms around his neck.
Eventually Jonathan pulls back, opening his deep black eyes and smirks, running a hand up her side, slipping under her shirt. "That was a wonderful wake up, little sister. What's the occasion?" he says, drawing circles on her skin.
"Can I not kiss my brother just because I feel like it?" Clary says, trying to keep the true intention from her face, hoping Jonathan won't guess what she is planning before it's too late.
"Oh well if that's the case, by all means continue. Far be it from me to deny my sister her wants," he purrs and kisses her again. Clary lets him have his fun with her, kissing, caressing, hot breath blowing against her body, knowing that she will be gone by tonight. That is the deadline she has set for herself, tonight she wants to be gone, alone. She realizes her thoughts for the past few days have been erratic, jumping from staying with Jonathan, to leaving because he doesn't actually want her, to realizing she belongs with him, to needing to get away. Away from the blood, the war, her old friends, the painful memories her nights here have stirred up, the prospect of Jonathan's attention for her wavering.
Jonathan eventually stops, pulling back with a reverent sigh and one last lingering kiss before swinging off the bed. He stretches lazily, reaching his arms in the air, rolling his head around and finally walking to the bathroom. He gives her an enticing smirk before leaving the bathroom door cracked, an invitation for her to join him as she hears the shower start up.
Now is as a good time as any to start looking for a stele. She throws back the covers and pulls on some pants over her skin tight shorts. She found the stele in his closet last time so he is sure to have moved it by now. She pulls open the dresser drawers, moving clothes aside. She finds shirts, socks, shorts, a drawer with Jonathan's pants and one of her bras tossed haphazardly atop them. She frowns and pulls open the next drawer. It is full of Jonathan's boxers most are black, some grey and she shifts them aside to find the stele buried under a pair of white boxers.
She grins triumphantly and pulls the stele out. She makes sure to lace up her boots as she moves to the wall, the blank one and starts sketching her Portal rune. She'll go first, back to her house to pack herself a bag of clothes and other things then she doesn't know where she'll go, maybe Greece, Hawai'i. A small smile touches her lips as she finishes the rune and the swirling doorway opens.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," she hears her brother growl from behind her. He's across the room; his eyes burning with a black rage otherwise his posture is relaxed. His hair is damp and tousled and his only has his boxers on.
"And why not? I don't belong here. I can't go to war with my old friends," Clary says keeping close to the Portal just in case Jonathan lunges for her but he seems to keep his distance, knowing that if he moves she'll step through and be gone.
"Yes you do Clarissa. You belong with me. You're mine and I will find you where ever you go," Jonathan says, edging across the room but Clary takes a step back and he stops.
"But that's the thing Jon," Clary says her eyes glazing over with inner thought. "I don't belong here. You only want me because I'm something you can never have and once you have your share of me you'll just dispose of me like you do so many others. There really isn't anything you can do to stop me," she says her gaze focusing on Jonathan's blank face, carefully swept of emotions. "Everyone I love is dead so you can't threaten me into staying, you have nothing over me and I am only saving myself from war and from the time you finally tire of me. Even if you do find me, even if you do catch me I won't be yours. That is what you want isn't it? For me to break under you?"
She stares at him for a long time and he says nothing, his face cold and detached. She shrugs and steps back into the Portal, letting it sweep her away. She sees Jonathan lunge for her before she stepped through but he was too late.
Clary steps onto the gravel driveway of Luke's house. She's finally mastered Portaling, she can land on her feet instead of sprawling face first onto the dirt. She walks up the drive to her door, reaching on her tip toes and feeling around the roof gutter for the spare key. Her fingers close around the small, cold, metal as she sticks it in the lock. She can't believe it was only a few days ago that Jonathan came to get her and yet there is only a thin layer of dust covering the house. She breathes in the familiar scent of Luke's house, of her mother and step-father. She smiles, remembering fond memories of them after their wedding, before they died.
Striding across the family room before tears can start forming she walks into her bedroom. Opening her closet she grabs one of the duffel bags and starts filling it with her clothes. Once those are packed she moves over to the hidden closet she put in to hide all her shadowhunter weapons and pulls out a weapons belt and bag. Clipping it around her waist she shoves as many knives and daggers as she can in to it along with a short sword and lays a few more swords and other weapons, steles and sensors in the bag.
She slings the straps of both bags over her shoulder and walks over to the wall of her room, drawing another Portal rune. She made sure to pack some bikinis because she plans on going to one of the secluded, uninhabited Hawaiian island and stay there for a while. Maybe she'll use a persuasion rune so she can convince the owner of one of the islands, the ones with private systems of bungalows to sell her the island for twenty bucks.
She looks around her room; gives a melancholy smile before stepping toward the Portal. She'll miss New York but just being here is too painful for her to stand; too many painful memories. She hears a loud crash before stepping into the Portal. That would be Jonathan, come looking for her in the first place he knows she will have gone. She sighs, somehow not afraid and steps through the Portal and out onto a white sandy beach, surrounded by untamed jungle. A clean path through that jungle has been cut, leading to a nice, large, modern bungalow. She smiles and walks up the path. In the bungalow she finds it abandoned, not like away for the summer abandoned, but gone away forever abandoned, it's only been abandoned for a few years she can tell. She smiles, that makes this so much easier, she can put up some warding spells to keep the mundanes away and live in peace. She might even invite Magnus over for the summer, he seems like he would enjoy a Hawaiian get away.
The bungalow isn't in such terrible shape, it seems recently left. The kitchen gourmet, granite counters, stainless steel appliances, open breakfast nook, the wall covered in windows looking out at the beach are only a little misused, covered in a fine layer of dust . The living room's beach facing wall is all sliding glass doors, ones that you can turn to face perpendicular with the wall, only catching a little but some grease on the hinges will fix that. The couches are all soft enough that you can sink into the cushions, once the big cloud of dust disperses. There is a plasma screen that when Clary turns on she finds still has cable service.
She's finally away from the chaos of the Shadow World. No more war or angels or Clave. No more Jonathan. She thinks this get away is well deserved seeing all the things she's been forced to go through. Thrown into the Shadow World, no warning whatsoever, falling in love, being manipulated by her father into thinking the boy she loved was her brother, having to stop the war that Valentine was starting, Jace dying the first time, him being brought back to life, him getting possessed by Lilith, Simon turning into a vampire, Simon having to revive Jonathan, getting tortured by Lilith, Jonathan kidnapping Jace, Clary having to go after them, the Seventh Sacred Site, Jace's heavenly fire, his death, her mother's death, Luke's death, Simon's death, the Lightwoods throwing her out, having to live on her own, alone, Jonathan coming to collect her, sway her to his side until he brings up war, Jonathan starting another angel forsaken war, the angst and possessiveness he has presented her with. Yes, she thinks this vacation, this break is well deserved.
She sheds her clothes and dons a bikini, rummaging around in the bathroom—sunken bathtub, rain shower head, crystal sinks and dark stained wood cabinets— until she finds a fluffy white towel. She heads down the beach in her flip flops, red, two piece bikini and sunglasses. She breathes in the salty, ocean air, different from the ocean by the Jonathan's house. She could get used to this she thinks, laying out the towel on the pristine white sand and lying down on it to tan. She'll put up wards later and she made sure this island was close enough to the big island that she can take one of the many boats she found docked in the boat house to the main island and restock on supplies. Even if the previous owners hadn't left the boats here she could just Portal back and forth but sometimes the mundane way is more fun.
The next few weeks pass without disturbance. After she ran out of food a few days after her arrival she took one of the small speed boats to the main island and went shopping in one of the farmer's markets. That was fun, after putting a speak in tongues rune on, she spoke Hawaiian to the dealers who seemed very pleased to be making trades with someone who spoke their native language. She found a ton of new, delicious exotic fruit to try, she bought pasta, some cooking supplies seeing as the ones on the island were rusted, vegetables, some chicken and beef, spices, sugar, flour, some native, island made chocolate, a cookbook, some renovation supplies to get the bungalow back in perfect shape and a new pair of sunglasses just because she could.
Back on her island, she made herself a master chef, learning how to make native Hawaiian dishes, like grilled fish and white sauce with cut pineapple. At the farmer's market a native woman taught her how to make homemade chocolate and, finding some cacao trees in the jungle around the bungalow, she made her own and it was surprisingly delicious. Magnus found her eventually—reminding her to put up wards as soon as he popped into her kitchen—concerned that she was gone for so long and found she was perfectly happy living in the Hawaiian Islands. He even stayed over and they had cocktails and fresh, grilled shrimp. He didn't ask where else she had been, just assumed that she had been here the whole time and she let him believe it.
Sitting with him now, on the patio at the table, sipping cocktails, looking out at the ocean he tells her about the Lightwoods who she hasn't seen in three months.
"They're past grieving now," he says, the glitter in his hair sparkling against the evening sun. "I think they're just starting to realize you're gone, what they said to you." His voice is quiet, knowing this is a touchy subject for Clary.
"Why would they care about what they said to me? They made their thoughts perfectly clear," she murmurs into her glass.
"My dear, I don't think they did. They were blinded by grief, Isabelle only needed someone to blame," he says softly.
"Then why didn't she blame the Silent Brothers? They're the ones who gave him that potion."
"You were the closest outlet. Dear Isabelle is starting to remember what she said to you, she blocked out most of that day and is only now recalling it. She regrets what she said," he keeps his voice tender.
"You can't take something like that back Magnus. They threw me out when I needed them. Jace…" her breath catches and she holds back tears. "He meant the world to me and I didn't even get to say goodbye. Then my parents…" she lets the words fall away. She remembers now that she hasn't told Magnus about them yet.
"Your parents what Clary?" He turns his head and sees her blank face staring at the waves, sees the tears shining in her eyes. He sets his glass down. "Oh, sweetheart. I'm so sorry, come here." He stands, opening his arms, trying to comfort her. She reluctantly gets up and hugs Magnus, she is aware that Magnus knows loss better than he should have a right to, that her grief and loss is nothing compared to his many life times of pain but comforts her anyway.
"I'm so sorry for your loss," he says. "Is that why you left?"
Clary decides to let him believe that her parents deaths are what made her leave so she just nods. Magnus ends up staying overnight in the guest bedroom after watching a movie with her and eventually pulling her back to happiness. He left the next morning after she took down the wards so he could Portal out.
The next few days Clary slipped back into the routine of swimming, tanning, going to the big island and shopping, doing some mundane work because she got bored but stopping after she found out the island's jungle had demons to be hunted. She found the Honolulu Institute and met the owners, saying she was just passing through and they welcomed her but she did not want to stay long, just in case Jonathan found her. She did not want him to take his wrath out on these nice people.
A week later and she lies on her beach in a dark blue V-neck bikini, propped on her elbows on a soft towel with her sunglasses on, eyes closed, face turned toward the bright Hawaiian sun. Living in Hawaii has darkened her skin ever so slightly, not a lot due to the sun block rune she made as to avoid burns and her hair now the shade of a dark, low burning fire instead of bright orange. She likes the changes the sun has given her, seeing how much her life has changed, it fits her new life. She smiles, smelling the cacao from the jungle and the pineapples growing not far from the shore.
"So this is where you've been the entire time," a voice echoes from behind her. Her body grows rigid and her smile dies. She sits up and takes off her sunglasses to glare at her brother, her gaze a mixture of fear and anger. He stands behind her head, arms crossed, in Shadowhunter gear, watching the ocean. "I've got to admit, not a bad spot." His gaze travels down to her, sharp, pointed and full of anger despite his calm expression. Something inside her twists with a brutal fear; he's pissed and won't hesitate to take it out on her. "You, little sister, are hard to find."
"I didn't want to be found. That was the point," she says coolly, standing up.
"Well bravo, sister, it took me a month and a half but I have to say you need to not wander outside your wards so often and for so long, makes you easier to track, otherwise very impressive," he says, stepping toward her, eyes raking her half naked body.
She sighs, knowing this is going to come down to a fight because there is no way she is being forced back into her hell hole of an old life without some resistance. She looks down at the bikini she's wearing then looks back at her brother who she can see is buzzing with impatience. "May I at least go put on some clothes?" she asks.
Jonathan takes one long stride across the beach, spanning the distance between them until his body brushes hers. Her body starts to shake, he's not even going to let her change, he's going to drag her back to his house in her bikini. His hand snakes around her waist and she sucks in a breath as his hand finds the stele tucked into the lower half of her bikini. He smirks down at her, waving the stele in her face, the one she stole to make her escape.
"Of course little sister, we wouldn't want to ruin a perfectly good bikini, just," he shakes the stele again, "not with this."
Clary closes her eyes in defeat then pulls away from Jonathan, walking up the path to the bungalow. She can feel Jonathan following behind her, his gaze boring into her back. She reaches the wall of turning glass doors and pushes one open, walking down the hall to her bedroom. The soft bed still disheveled from when she woke up this morning sits in the center of the back wall, the curtains drawn across the window facing sunrise. She walks over to the closet and sheds her dry bikini, pulling on a sports bra, panties, tank top and shorts. She ties her hair back. Rummaging in her nightstand drawer she can't find her spare stele, her stele. Jonathan must have raided her house while she was at the beach.
She storms out of the room to see Jonathan standing in the family room, leaning on a couch with his arms crossed, facing the empty space between the couches and the glass doors. He seems to sense her presence and turns to her, smirking. A shiver runs down her back as his hot glare settles on her. She walks over to him, careful to keep a few feet between them. She's a little disappointed; she did so like this beach house.
"I'm not going without a fight," Clary says, stating it as though saying the sky is blue.
He smirk grows and his body tenses. "Oh I know. I was counting on it." And he lunges, going from relaxed and easy to fierce and tense in seconds. Clary dodges to the side and lashes out with her foot, aiming for stomach. He catches her ankle as he spins around and pulls her forward. She jerks toward him instead of pulling back and throws her weight against him sending him crashing to the ground. He braces his fall with his upper arms and Clary with her hands. She straddles his hips now and draws her fist back to punch that smirk off his face but Jonathan bucks his hips, throwing her forward. She manages to keep her feet and bolts up as Jonathan jumps to his feet. They stare at each other for a moment, tense and ready for the other to pounce. Jonathan grins like a mad man, enjoying the fight, the hunt, the chase.
Jonathan makes the first move, lashing out at her stomach and Clary shifts just in time to avoid it but Jonathan prepared for her move and hooks his ankle around hers, tripping her. She falls back into the glass side table, the glass shards digging into her back and she muffles a scream and oddly a smile, remembering in Valentine's apartment when he threw her into the glass dining table. Though this time the metal supports snap into her back and she feels something break.
Jonathan apparently is having the same flash back as her. "Déjà vu, huh, little sister?" Jonathan asks, putting a foot on her chest. The glass digs into her back, broken rib and face, a thin trail of blood flowing from each onto the tile.
"No kidding," she breathes as Jonathan presses down with his foot.
"I won then too."
Clary has recovered enough to grab his ankle and pull him forward so he sprawls on the ground next to her, face first into the glass. He grunts as she jumps on top of him, pinning his arms behind his back. She leans down close to his ear. "I never said it was over."
Jonathan chuckles and shifts his weight under her, throwing her off his back, and she lands on her side, the side with the broken rib and she lets out a scream of pain. Jonathan moves to sit on top of her, crushing her ribs as she tries not to cry from the pain of him moving her rib further out of place. He leans down to her face, both of their faces covered in miniscule scratches. Clary took the worst one, a long slit along her cheekbone that drips down the side of her face. Jonathan's tongue darts out to lick away the blood and she cringes away from him.
"Give up yet little sister? I don't want to damage you too much then I won't be able to torture you the way I like when we get home," he says, his hot breath blowing into the slit on her cheek. She shivers underneath him, both with anticipation, fear and strangely arousal. Clary is shocked at the last emotion, fighting her brother is turning her on. She shoves the feeling down.
She brings her fist up and cracks him in the jaw, hearing a loud snap he rolls to the side, clutching his face with one hand. She hauls herself off the ground, pulling one her daggers she left under the couch. Jonathan quickly recovers from his broken jaw and stands with her. She pulls her arm back and flings the knife at his face. He quickly dodges the blade and dives for her torso, sending them both sprawling on the ground. He tries to pin her arms on the tile but Clary bucks her hips up and slams her knee into his stomach and she rolls on top of him.
Sitting on his chest, trying her best to keep his arms pinned to his side with her knees she draws her hand back again, clutching another dagger she left lying around. She brings it down and at the last second Jonathan shifts to the side so the blade embeds itself in the tile floor. He rolls her over and sits on her legs, immobilizing them but she manages to jerk her elbow into his broken jaw and he lets out a low moan as she pushes him to the side and bolts to the kitchen, ducking under the cupboards to her stash of seraph blades. She pulls one out and crouches on the floor, hiding her body behind the granite island. She hears Jonathan's soft footfall enter the kitchen and she holds her breath.
She hears his exasperated sigh. "Come on Clarissa, I don't have all day. Just surrender yourself to me. You know you're mine," she hears him call from the side of the island. She holds her breath as he rounds the corner and she jumps up slashing with her blade. She manages a nice gash in the side of his arm before he dodges out of the way but Clary lunges again. This time, though, Jonathan grabs her wrist, almost lazily, and twists her arm behind her back. Her forces her forward, bending her over the counter, pressing her face into the cold stone countertop.
"Pity really," Jonathan says, pushing her arm further out of place, threatening to dislocate it. "There are so many things I would rather be doing to you bent over a counter, little sister." He runs a free hand up her torso, trailing his fingers greedily along her side. "But unfortunately you force my hand," Jonathan purrs, bending over her to whisper in her ear. She can feel how aroused he is through his pants, his want pressing against her thigh. He twists her arm harder behind her back, digging his nails into her wrist but only when he draws blood does she drop the blade. It clatters to the ground as Jonathan grabs her other wrist and wrenches it painfully behind her back. She moans in pain as it jostles her rib.
"Save the moans for the bedroom little sister," he says, pulling out his stele and drawing a binding rune on her wrists. She feels her wrists become encircled with the fiery heat of the rune that burns every time she moves them. With her hands pulled behind her she feels her shoulder is uncomfortable and turns her face into the counter, softly smacking against the stone. Her shoulder is dislocated; Jonathan managed to pop it out of the socket when he forced her hands behind her. She groans as he jolts her back against him, flush with his hot body and his heartbeat, strong and fast against her back. He ducks his head to the crook of her neck and places a soft kiss on her pulse.
"I missed you," he whispers into her skin. She lets herself absorb his warmth, devoid of affectionate human contact for more than a month, especially when Jonathan shows his affection so passionately, she hadn't realized how addicting he was until she left. She almost leans her head back against his chest, closing her eyes, but resists.
"Likewise," she murmurs, not really meaning it as Jonathan drags her into the family room and throws her down on the couch. She starts to scream but she turns it into a muffled laugh as Jonathan straddles her hips then flips her over so she lays face down on the couch. He pushes up her shirt to bare the small of her back where he presses the stinging stele tip to, letting a black immobility rune flow from it. Her legs go slack and numb as he flips her over again. She stares up at her brother, his face ct and bleeding in more than one spot, a dark black bruise forming over where she broke his jaw, his shirt is slightly torn, showing the powerful and deadly muscles beneath. He gives her a triumphant smirk and bends down to kiss her deeply. She stays still, not returning his kiss, no matter how much her body pleads with her to do so, which Jonathan does not seem to appreciate.
He pulls back, a satisfied smile on his face all the same. "That was long overdue," he says.
"Aww," Clary says her voice snarky. "Did you miss your plaything?"
Jonathan growls and digs his knee into her rib, making her scream as he pushes it farther into her chest, pressing it against her lung. She tries not to breath too deeply now, too deep of a breath would make the rib pierce her lung. She resorts to glaring at him, holding back painful tears.
He smirks and kisses her cheek. "If I you were you, I would not think it wise to provoke me further," he whispers in her ear before pulling away. "Don't go anywhere," he says, sliding off her and slipping into her bedroom.
"Fuck you!" She yells after him.
"Not yet!" He calls back from in her bedroom then emerges with her bags that she originally brought here—already packed with her belongings—slung over his shoulder. "I have to punish you first," he says taking her in his arms. Clary stiffens at his words. By the angel what has she condemned herself to? She doesn't regret it though, a month and a half of peace and quiet, no big shadowhunter events, no deaths of her loved ones, just bliss. It was good while it lasted though she knew it had to end. Her life doesn't seem to want to stay normal, ever. He sets her down in front of one blank wall, leaning her back against him, holding her up by her waist, since her legs are immobile. He removes the binding rune and places the stele in her hands.
"Draw a Portal." He demands. "If I catch the hint that you are drawing anything other than a Portal, I will puncture your lung with your own rib. Understand?" He whispers in her ear darkly, punctuating his point by digging his fingers into her side, pressing against her broken rib.
She tries not to suck in a breath and nods. His words sent a chill of fear down her spine; this is the demon she's seen before. Dark and uncontrollable, no mercy or soul or conscience. She wondered how long it would take for it to come out. It still scares her all the same and she knows she's in for hell when they arrive back at the house. She reaches out her hand and quickly sketches the Portal rune. Jonathan snatches the stele from her as soon as she is finished. "Good girl," he says and wrenches her hands behind her once more, replacing the binding rune.
He scoops her up and steps through the Portal into his bedroom, in his house, now Clary's prison. He walks down to his room, everything his, now she's his captive, his prisoner, his slave, whatever you want to call it. He dumps her ungracefully on the floor, making her scream and bury her face in the carpet but unable to move, the rib pressing, dangerously sharp, into her lung. Jonathan walks to his closet to dump her bags, all her clothes, weapons, supplies, art tools, even a few books, all now out of reach in Jonathan's closet.
"You know how hard you were to find?" Jonathan asks, closing his closet door and she hears a lock click.
Clary decides to indulge in his game to try and distract herself from the pain. "Hard enough I got a month and a half of peace from you," Clary grits through her teeth, even in immense pain; she is still not going to comply with Jonathan's rules, she'll play his game but not the way he wants.
He chuckles a little, tugging off his shirt. Clary glares at him as he bares his toned abdomen. "I had to hire quite a few warlocks to lock onto you after I basically tore apart your house. I even paid a visit to the New York Institute," he says, glancing over her to see her eyes widen. "But as I thought you weren't there." He pulls off his pants to reveal black boxer briefs. He didn't say what he did at the Institute and it scares Clary to think of what he might have done trying to get her back. Ever since Magnus told her the Lightwoods were starting to regret their actions part of her has now blazed up in hope that she has someone she can go to but now also someone Jonathan can hold over her. She can't let him know; even if she hasn't forgiven the Lightwoods she can't let Jonathan kill them either.
"I had my demon shadowhunters out looking for you, I had my spy network on the lookout but no one could find you." He walks over and crouches in front of her. She tries to draw back but he just reaches out and pushes her onto her back. She bites her lip to muffle the grunt of pain. Jonathan moves to straddle her, working on the waist band of her shorts.
She knows the struggle is useless so she doesn't bother wasting energy. "Then how did you find me?" Clary asks discomfort growing as she lies on her dislocated shoulder and Jonathan slides off her shorts. His hands trail the cuts along her thighs made from the glass and metal of the table.
"It's a secret little sister," he whispers, leaning down to lick the blood still flowing from the cut on her cheek. He rips open her shirt and tears it off her shoulders, jostling the dislocated one and she can't help the scream. She's panting from the effort of staying conscious through the pain and Jonathan notices, smirking at her attempts.
He pulls out his stele and draws an iratze on his wrist, closing the cuts and scratches on his face, arms and chest. He draws one on his neck and she remembers she broke his jaw. She grins devilishly as he winces, touching his still healing jaw. He catches her smile and squeezes her ribs with his knees. She has to squeeze her eyes shut and smack her head against the floor to keep from screaming, that wipes of her smirk and replaces his.
"I want to have a little fun before I throw you in a cell, little sister, don't ruin it," he says before leaning down and kissing her, deep and sweet, running his tongue along her lip, softly biting down on it. When she doesn't open her mouth for him, his hand slides up her body and rests on her dislocated shoulder. Her eyes shoot open, having closed by themselves, she shakes her head. Jonathan just grins, keeping his mouth on hers as he violently pushes the shoulder back into its socket. Jonathan's mouth muffles her scream and his hips press her against the carpet.
She's surprised she hasn't cried yet but is proud that she hasn't. She lets her eyes close again as Jonathan's hands wander her body and the pain resonates through her shoulder and neck, giving her a headache. Jonathan's mouth travels down her cheek, jaw and neck, trailing hot kisses all the way. He pulls back and drags one of her legs up, resting the back of her knee on his shoulder and he kisses the inside of her thigh, still bloody and cut.
"Why did you run little sister?" he murmurs against her thigh, his voice deep and resonates up her leg to her core, his mouth dangerously close.
She shudders and Jonathan smiles against her skin. "I don't have to tell you," Clary breathes, trying to shift away from Jonathan's mouth but he holds her in place and nips her skin, making her body arch up. "Stop," she moans. This is not fair, Jonathan can't use himself and her own wants against her to get information that is completely useless to him.
"I don't think I will until you answer me, little sister," he growls against her thigh. His hand trails down between her legs, stroking her through the fabric. Clary tries to repress a moan, attempting to pull her legs together but the one draped over his shoulder prevents even that. Her panting speeds up and it's hard to breathe, painful to. She needs him to stop before her rib can pierce her lung.
"Stop, please," she breathes. His mouth pulls away from her thigh but his hand stays between her legs. He leans forward and brushes his lips against hers.
"Why should I? You kept yourself, unfairly from me for more than a month. I believe I can do whatever I want with you in your current position," he whispers but pulls his hand away and her breathing evens out, she leans her head back against the floor, closing her eyes. His hands travel back up her body and tear off her sports bra so he can knead her breast. He rolls his knuckles over the tender flesh and she moans despite herself. Jonathan smiles against her neck.
He trails his mouth down her ravaged body to her breasts while his hands move to grip her hips. Jonathan's eyes flick up to hers, she just glares at him, this being nothing new, just unwanted. His tongue swirls around her nipple and she closes her eyes, waiting for it to be over. His hot mouth encloses her nipple, sucking at her breast. His teeth bite down just enough to make her gasp and arch her body up into his.
"Why did you leave?" he asks again, keeping his hot mouth on her breasts.
"I had to get away, from everything," she says, relenting against the pressure of Jonathan against her. He doesn't say anything else just slides his hands down her hips, pulling down her underwear while he continues to suck her breast. He seems to be lost in the feel of her, desperately trying to feel and hold as much of her as possible.
One hand skims back up to her side and she gasps as his fingers brush her broken rib, her intake of breath making it dig into her lungs while at the same time Jonathan's fingers slip inside her. He pumps his fingers in and out, pressing his thumb against her sweet spot, adding to the forced ache in her pelvis. Jonathan takes the opportunity to envelop her mouth with his, still pumping now three fingers in and out of her. Her body arches into his hot, ready one, hovering above her. Her nails dig into the carpet, her arms painfully bound under her.
"Little sister," he says, pulling back to look at her. She keeps her eyes shut, Jonathan still pumping his fingers and rubbing against her, making her want to melt. "Who do you belong to?"
Angel, this again. She lets out an exasperated sigh. She's tired, she's injured and he's got his fingers in her. Does she really have to deal with this? "Myself," Clary grits.
Jonathan's fingers curl inside her and his nails graze her walls, it's not an unpleasant feeling but it sure isn't comfortable and she shifts her hips trying to avoid the contact. Jonathan just holds her hips down, not allowing her to move. "Why?" he asks. "What good is belonging to yourself?"
Clary manages to open her eyes and stare at her brother in bewilderment. This question is new. She scrambles for an answer. "Because I'm not yours and the one I did belong to is dead," she snaps and Jonathan just presses against her rib and she has to muffle a scream. "Would you stop fucking doing that?" She growls. "If you're going to puncture my lung then do it! Kill me, get it over with, confirm my suspicions and finish me off!" She screams in frustration.
Jonathan glares at her for a moment but she doesn't see it as she keeps her eyes closed against the pain pulsing through her body, fighting for her attention with pleasure, but he pulls out his stele. He has to dig into her skin to get a hold of the edge of the rib, popping the loose bone back into place, provoking an earsplitting scream from Clary before he draws an iratze on her torso. She blows out a sigh as she feels the bone mend itself. Jonathan pulls his fingers out of her and she lets her body relax. Jonathan leans down, bracing a hand on either side of her head.
"You still didn't answer my second question," he says quietly.
She turns her face into the carpet, groaning under the weight he is purposely applying to her chest. "Why do I have to?" She knows she's pushing his limits, he's already angry with her, going through sex toy withdrawal, and she can see the demon crashing around in his eyes, begging to busrt free and break her.
He grabs her chin, digging his nails in and turns her head toward him, the pain makes her eyes fly open. "Because I told you to little sister. Now do it," he growls deeply.
A shudder of fear runs through her. "Because it keeps me protected against you," she says quietly, wishing he would throw her in a cell already so she can go to sleep. Jonathan seems to relax a little as he notices the fear he's managed to instill, knowing she'll comply easier and he leans his head against her chest, flicking her nipples with his thumbs.
"How so? You haven't anything to fear from me," he says, his hot breath fanning her chest as he places a kiss on her left breast. He's very confusing, one second he is torturing her by using her own rib to puncture her lung then kissing her breasts tenderly. Frankly her brother is a bit of a drama queen, but a scary, powerful one at that who can beat her in a fight and doesn't hesitate to torture her.
"I have everything to fear from you Jonathan," she says letting the words hang in the air. Jonathan stops his movements and raises his head from her chest, for a moment his eyes look like those of a sad puppy, heartbroken his master left but that look is gone in seconds.
"That was no reason to run away, Clarissa," he says blandly.
"That was every reason to run away! You're a monster and I'm scared of you! You prove yourself loving one moment and then threaten to puncture my lung the next! You're supposed to be my brother and yet you fucked me and not just once. You tracked me down because of your need to possess me, you want to possess me because you see it as forbidden and once you have me completely under your thumb you'll kill me just because the novelty has worn off! You fought your own sister just to get me back here and now have me pinned to the floor naked with you switching between pleasuring me and torturing me. I'd say that is a damn good reason to run away Jonathan. Now either fuck me, kill me or throw me in cell somewhere so you can have private time to nurse your hurt feelings!" She snaps, fed up with Jonathan's stupid games.
His eyes blaze with anger as he back hands her and her vision goes white for a moment and her head is flung to the side. She turns her head back to face Jonathan, glaring with a ferocity that matches her brother's. "Kill me it is then. Well go on, get it over with. I have nothing left here for me anyway. I can go laugh at you with Jace in the afterlife!" She screams but sucks in a breath, tears stinging her eyes; she doesn't know where those words came from. Her breath hitches but Jonathan ignores it, he hoists her up off the ground, her underwear falling down around her ankles.
"Oh no, little sister, I'm not going to kill you. I'm going to do much worse until you finally realize your place," he hisses in her ear, pushing her toward the bathroom. Shoving her in, he closes the bathroom door and locks it. "Now clean yourself up before I do it myself," he growls. His black eyes are raging with dark fire as he crosses his arms and leans back against the door, watching her intently. She is somehow not embarrassed in the slightest that she is completely naked in front of him.
"I kind of need my hands to do that," she says, wiggling her hands behind her back.
"That sounds like a personal problem," he mutters, still glaring at her.
She rolls her eyes. "Please," she says irritably trying to put pleading in her voice, knowing she needs to stop adding to the fire of his anger. She's only hurting herself but her anger prevents her from getting down on her knees and begging.
Jonathan huffs but detaches from the door with his stele in hand and removes the rune, freeing her hands. "Thank you," she murmurs before turning away to go turn on the shower. She glances back to see Jonathan still watching her as she steps into the shower. She quickly washes away all the blood from her face and body, wanting desperately to be back on her Hawaiian island, alone on the beach.
Exiting the shower she finds Jonathan standing against the door but with a stack of clothes at his feet. On second glance they don't really look like clothes, more like barely there coverings. She gives Jonathan a skeptical glance, drying off and keeping the towel wrapped around her. The full realization of what she had said hitting her and now her fear of her brother is tenfold of tenfold.
Jonathan nods toward the pile of clothes. "Put them on before I make you. I'm not in the mood for games Clarissa so hurry up," he says coolly, keeping his gaze leveled at her eyes. She picks up the pile to find a black thong along with a small matching bra, a gray tank top and some skin tight thigh shorts. She drops the towel and puts on all the clothes, earning a nod of approval from her brother.
She tenses her body preparing for whenever Jonathan is going to make his attack. He promised worse things than death for her words and defiance and she hasn't the slightest clue when he is going to incite his promise. He takes her arm, still sore from healing, having only received one iratze and drags her out of his bedroom and down the hall to a small bedroom with no windows, no light and only one bed—albeit a queen size bed with a plush comforter and peach duvet— but only a bed all the same.
He shoves her into the room and slams the door. She hears a bolt slide into place and it leaves her in utter darkness. She sighs with exhaustion, feels her way over to the bed and collapses on top of it, falling into a fretful sleep, afraid of what her brother is going to do to her tomorrow.