This is sort of a time waster chapter but it has some intresting stuff in it. The next chapter will definitely be more exciting and anger and lust filled trust me. In the mean time enjoy! Comment your review.
Oh and some more news I'm working on another Clabastian story. Sorry for the Clabastian spam, I'm going through a phase. I'll post it later this weekend probably.
-Fangirl703 (Cat)
After Clary had cried herself dry she gets up slowly, her body cramped and aching from sitting on the bathroom floor for six hours. She walks over to the door and opens the locked brown wood. She inches it open, feeling a weight pressed against it. Jonathon slides down onto the floor, asleep with his arms crossed against his chest. Door open, Jonathon on the floor, Clary steps over him and walks over to one of the three interior doors.
The closet is more like a separate smaller room. A sitting couch mirrored sliding closet doors, rows of dark stained drawers and a hanging light fixture shedding warm light through the closet.
Clary feels empty, a hollow shell. She can't summon any reaction now to what she and Jonathon had done, can't summon a feeling of guilt towards Jace or a sense of hopelessness that he had called off the search for her, or hatred for her brother, she feels nothing. Her expression resembles boredom because she doesn't have the strength to summon anything else.
She blindly pulls on a pair of sweatpants and a tight fitting shirt. Even though she can't feel anything doesn't mean she doesn't need to distract herself. She pulls on knee high combat boots and laces them up then walks out into the bedroom to see Jonathon still asleep on the floor in his boxers. She grows suspicious because her brother is not one to sleep while others are about.
Maybe he knows she's broken now and won't try to escape. Maybe he trusts her not to leave or kill him. She could easily slit his throat right now and be done with all this. She crinkles her nose and leaves the room, heading again towards the training room. It is probably about midnight now but she isn't tired seeing as her sleep pattern hasn't exactly been normal.
She steps into the dark training room and makes her way to the witchlight torches she saw earlier. She touches each one in turn until the room is illuminated just enough for her to see the targets on the wall, the other sides of the room are shrouded in late night darkness.
She takes a handful of throwing knives from the wall and lines herself up with the target. Pulling her throwing arm taut she lets the knife fly through the air to hit the dim target. Dead center. Her night vision has gotten better ever since she had her sight rune permanently inked onto her body.
She throws the rest of her knives and walks to retrieve them. Placing them back on the rack she grabs a bow and a quiver full of arrows. She places the quiver on her belt and draws an arrow back in her bow. Archery isn't one of her best but practice makes perfect. She relaxes her muscles and focuses down the arrow shaft toward the target. The arrow whistles through the air and thuds into the target. Inner circle not the bulls-eye. She pulls another arrow back and loses it this time it lands dead center.
She blankly continues shooting arrows. Jonathon is still asleep in the bedroom. What was he trying to accomplish when he said he'd wait? It's not like he actually cares about Clary, just his selfish demonic needs. He only wants someone to hold his attention; he wants a toy he can use whenever he wants. His dark side has only shown itself once or twice while she's been here but she can see it bubbling just beneath the surface of his skin. She can see it churning in his black eyes, every time he looks at her it's with lust or want and on too many occasions has she seen his pants grow. He thinks she doesn't notice but it's almost impossible not to.
It unsettles her how badly Jonathon wants her, she's only his plaything and when he's finished with her he'll kill her off just like he did Max. What bewilders her most is that he acts as if he cares, he's patient with her, most of the time. He soothes her, attends to her needs but not wants. If he attended her wants she would be back in Jace's arms. No he just takes care of her as much as she needs to be taken care of.
She realizes she's out of arrows so she walks to the target, removes all of them and switches back to knives. Jonathon just took her because he wanted something to torture, to see squirm. He's just using her to entertain himself like some child with ADHD. How dare he? She's not a toy; she's a person not to mention his sister. That has to count for something, no matter how twisted those circumstances are. How can he go about saying he cares, acting the part but underneath all that not giving a damn about her! How can he bring her here and ask such ridiculous things of her and then treat her as if she doesn't have emotions or feelings. Just because he doesn't, doesn't mean he can treat her like this.
She should walk straight back into that god-forsaken bedroom and slap him up side the face. He doesn't get to act soulless and then do things like throw 'I'll wait' in her face like he cares. When will he stop these endless mind games? Doesn't he know that she isn't like him? She can't handle the mental exertion it takes to deal with him. He's infuriating and idiotic; she can leave right now, break a window and leave. She doesn't care if she gets lost, she can swipe a stele off Jonathon, even better, she can portal home!
She will not tolerate the incessant mind game Jonathon keeps pushing on her! She won't! She's finished with her brother; she doesn't want to spend another minute in this wretched mansion or another agonizing minute with him. She flings her last knife with an angry and frustrated grunt and it lands hilt deep in the wall. Looking at her knives now they get deeper and deeper into the wall. Getting deeper with her rising rage.
Fuming, she approaches the target and wrenches out a knife, placing it on her weapons belt. She does the same with the others, after the target is empty she leans her head against the wall. She feels movement behind her and before she thinks she takes the knife in her hand and throws it at the movement.
The shadow dodges quickly as the knife impales itself in the wall. The patch of white blonde hair looks at the knife in shock for a moment then turns to reveal her brother's smirking face.
"Angry little sister?" Jonathon says tauntingly.
It's as if he knows what she was thinking about, as if he knows how deep her hatred for him runs and he's playing it against her, toying with her with his stupid mind game again.
"Why don't you stand in front of the target and ask me again?" Clary grits trying to suppress her mounting anger.
"Touchy," Jonathon says, "Why such a sour mood?" He walks up to her, keeping his distance. Clary can see the flash of uncertainty in his eyes and she inwardly smirks. He's afraid she'll throw again.
"No reason that concerns you," she snaps and draws back as he takes another step toward her.
"Oh no? I can see in your eyes, it has everything to do with me. Why don't you share?" he asks coolly, keeping his gaze fixed on her face.
"The last time I did that I got chained in the dungeon," she hisses venomously.
Jonathon seems to take all this in stride and he has the nerve to smirk. He's playing with her, toying with her mind. How dare he use his own sister like this and torment her so.
"That wasn't me at the time. It won't happen again you have my word," he says soothingly and takes another step forward.
"I don't trust your word Jonathon nor do I want it. I just want to be left alone," she says as her grip tightens on her next knife. He's edging closer to her and now she can feel the heat coming off his body.
"But I don't." As the words leave his lips she swings the knife upwards. She sees Jonathon smile slightly and he catches her wrist, spinning her around and holding her arm across her body. The pleasure rune beats slightly but she's learned how to control it slightly so her anger still runs free.
"Let me go Jonathon," she growls.
"Why would I do that? I'm holding my beautiful sister in my arms, I'm happy where I am," he purrs as he leans down to kiss her neck. He wrenches the knife from her grasp and drops it on the floor. He unbuckles the weapons belt around her waist and it drops to her feet.
"Well I'm not Jonathon. Again. Can you not give me an hour of peace without your pestilence trying to dig its way under my skin? Without you trying to seduce me into bed!" she says as she struggles. He can't do this again. He can't play with her every moment of everyday and have her stay sane.
"Clarissa you had six hours in that bathroom and another hour in here, I sat and watched patiently for your hour Clarissa. I'm bored so let's have a little fun shall we?"
What Jonathon is going to do next embodies the meaning of angry sex. She can feel his inner demon seep out into his outer shell. He roughly holds her by the waist and then crouches down, bringing her sweatpants with him.
Clary goes rigid; she doesn't want to give Jonathon's demon any more reason to come out. She strains not to kick Jonathon away as skims his hands back up her bare thighs, pushing her shirt up as he does.
"Jonathon…" she starts but Jonathon cuts her off. He pulls her flush with him and cups a hand over her mouth.
"Clarissa," he snaps, "If you don't behave I won't hesitate to make you drink from the Infernal Cup. Do you understand me?"
Clary can hear the building anger in his voice and her body starts to shake ever so slightly. She nods slowly trying not to look back at Jonathon.
"Good," he says and removes his hand. He turns her face towards him and kisses her roughly. Clary can feel the dark desire coming off him and she's scared of what Jonathon might do. She decides to return as much of what he's forcing upon her so she spins her body around and cups his face, roughly kissing him back but makes sure Jonathon can feel her anger.
Jonathon lets a low growl sound from the back of his throat and presses her up against him. Clary works Jonathon's shirt up his body and breaks the kiss momentarily. Jonathon takes the moment to pull off Clary's shirt and picks her up so he can kiss her stomach. Clary bends down to grab his chin and turns it upwards so he has to crane his neck to kiss her. He backs up, stumbles really, to slam against the wall. Clary's hand shoots out to steady herself and she wiggles out of Jonathon's grasp to pull down his pants.
She kisses his neck and he lets another growl from the back of his throat. He digs his nails into her back and she moans with pain. The sound spurs Jonathon to slide down the wall and lay on the ground with Clary on top of him.
She splays her hands across his chest as he slips his hands between them and pulls down his boxers and her panties. His body heat burns into her skin as she finally allows the pleasure rune to have some pull.
Jonathon notices this and quickly enters her pulling a scream from her. He thrusts harder at her scream and he moans as she quickly kisses him hard, curling her body into his. Clary can feel his animalistic side seep out further as he drags his nails down her back, cutting flesh.
Clary pulls back to muffle her slight scream. Clary decides to return the favor as Jonathon thrusts harder pulling a moan from her. She digs her nails down the sides of his abdomen and she feels the warm liquid of Jonathon's blood run over her fingertips.
Jonathon laughs lowly as he kisses her neck and sucks on her skin hard enough that she knows it will leave a bruise. Damn it! She doesn't want more physical reminders of this terrible deed. Clary takes her anger out by snapping her hips against Jonathon pulling a moan from his lips.
Jonathon rolls her over so he is supported on his elbows over her. She cups the back of his neck and pulls his mouth down so she can draw his lip between her teeth just as he did to her yesterday. He smiles against her mouth and pushes into her slowly, curling her stomach and making her bite Jonathon's lip harder.
Biting his lip makes him moan again and thrust into her violently. His movement makes her arm shoot out and knock his elbow so he falls on top of her. His weight pushes all the air from her lungs but instead of getting up Jonathon wraps his arms around her back and brushes against the fresh scratches. She lets out a pained sound and Jonathon pulls back.
"Shh," Jonathon whispers, tenderly kissing her until the pain fades and he resumes his rhythm. Clary is nearing the edge, the wonderful euphoria that can only come from this. Jonathon moves one more time and she's shoved over the edge. She screams her release as Jonathon follows shortly after, digging his fingers once again into her back.
She arches into him as they both come down from their high; Clary's still lingering because of Jonathon's ridiculous pleasure rune. Clary pants and gulps air, they did it on the floor of the training room, how low can she sink?
"There Jonathon, you got what you wanted now get off me!" She says angrily, shoving Jonathon onto the floor. She gathers up her clothes and pulls on her sweatpants, leaving her in just her sports bra and pants. She looks for her shirt but finds it ripped on the floor, she sighs exasperation and shoves Jonathon with her foot.
"Leave so I can train," she says in disgust throwing his pants at him. Jonathon lays there with a confused expression, looking up at his sister who glares down at him.
"No," Jonathon says pulling on his pants.
Clary's anger boils. "Yes," she snaps.
"No," he says, climbing off the floor and looking down at her. She hates his height; she has to crane her neck to look up at him.
Clary huffs angrily and turns around, stomping off towards the swords and the dummies. She pulls a sharp tipped sword off the wall and places herself in front of the dummy, trying to block out Jonathon's hot gaze on her still bare torso.
She swings the sword down but before it can hit the dummy another sword clashes with the metal. She swings around to see Jonathon holding a sword of his own. He holds a wicked grin on his face.
Clary pulls back and swings the sword down towards his arm. Jonathon spins away and stands in an offensive stance.
"I thought I told you to leave," she growls.
"And I told you no. What if I just want to spend some quality time with my little sister? Swinging swords to the death and all," he says and swings his sword down towards her and she blocks it, the metal raining sparks.
"I never said it was to the death," she says circling him suspiciously.
"I didn't either but your eyes say otherwise."
She hates how easily he can read her. She can feel her fury in her eyes and she can see Jonathon's laughter in his. She lunges and Jonathon dodges.
"If you're just going to toy with me I'm not practicing with you!" she says lowering her sword cautiously and placing it back on the wall. Her back is turned on Jonathon and she immediately regrets it. Jonathon comes up behind her and places the sword to her throat.
"Come on Clarissa. Don't be a kill joy," he says whispering in her ear.
She won't give him anything to play with so she stands with her back to Jonathon's chest; she glares at the wall because she can't turn to face Jonathon.
"Do whatever Jonathon but don't involve me," she says twisting his wrist to turn the blade away and turning to leave.
"But all of my plans involve you, little sister. Nothing's fun without you," he calls after her.
"Well then I guess you're going to be bored for the rest of the day," she says walking out the door and into Jonathon's old bedroom. She finds the lock and engages it, shedding all her clothing and walking to the shower.
Turning it on she steps under the water and scrubs herself until her skin is red. Jonathon touched her, marked her, injured her. She wants all remnants of him off but Jonathon won't give her a stele. She gently runs her soapy hands over the cuts Jonathon gave her.
She hisses as she nicks them, they're deep. Jonathon's due for a pedicure she thinks as she steps out of the shower and pats herself dry. She puts her bra and pants on but leaves her back bare so she can repair her cuts the mundane way.
After she put the disinfectant on she wraps white bandages around her waist. Her entire back is still sore from being thrown onto the ground, repeatedly. She doesn't bother putting a shirt on because it's bound to be torn off again.
She walks back out into the hall and checks both ways looking for Jonathon but finds nothing. She turns down into the foyer and walks toward the dining hall. Inside she finds the servants door. She's hungry all of a sudden, even if it is probably two a.m.
She pushes into the kitchen and finds a restaurant style kitchen. She walks over to the giant fridge and pulls out an apple. She takes a bite as she sits down at the counter and stares at the juice from the apple pooling in her bite mark.
She doesn't know what to do. She doesn't know how to deal with Jonathon or cope with her captivity. She leans her head down on the cold countertop and lets the cool seep into her, cooling her burning body and temper.
She breathes in and out slowly, letting her mind drift back to Jace and New York. She remembers when Jace had trained with her; they were secured in the harnesses on the ceiling and were chasing each other around the rafters, trying not to fall.
Jace had finally caught her around the waist and they were balancing on the wood rafter. Jace had gotten desperate and so had she, the moment had built. She turned around and kissed Jace fiercely and he had kissed back. They stayed locked in each other's embrace until Clary's skin had turned bright red and Jace had noticed.
He pulled away in shock and mumbled apologies. Clary had waved it away and kissed him again enduring the burn until her skin felt as though it were on fire.
Clary smiles into the counter at the memory. Her smile melts as she hears a footfall and then she's pulled into a body lock. Jonathon holds his hand against her mouth and his arm is wrapped around her waist.
"Little sister, I thought I should teach you a lesson. It won't hurt, at first, but you won't behave yourself so I have to do this."
Clary's vision blackens as her anger returns and she slumps against her brother's body.