Jonathan watched her closely with those flat, predatory eyes. Clary tried not to fidget. Her fingers absolutely ached to move, rub, do something. Her calve twitched, the muscle restless. Her entire body demanded that she flee the danger before her. Never before had her body warred so dramatically. Her mind, as calm as ever, tried to calm every instinct in her body. This was Jonathan. He loved her. He would never hurt her. Yet, her body didn't listen. Self-preservation was the first and most basic instinct. The male was dangerous. She couldn't win in a fight, so she needed to take flight. However, her mind kept her boots planted on the hardwood floor. Nothing would move her. Not away from him.
His nostrils flared for a second, and she knew he was taking in her scent. He smelled her fear.
Even as her eyes tracked every breath he took in, she waited for a single muscle to move. He was deathly still. His eyes still those of a killer. He was waiting.
She glanced at the door, unable to help herself under the ever growing weight of fear and anxiety.
Those black, flat eyes followed her gaze. A slow, languid smile rippled over his pale lips, tilting his mouth into a wicked smirk.
Her foot moved; only an inch, but it moved. Her eyes darted around the room. Her mind lost.
A sudden alertness brought her wide green eyes back to the demonic man before her. Those eyes!
His black, flat eyes were suddenly alight with so much intensity that she thought she might scream. Faster than lightening, he moved towards her. Arms of iron wrapped around her body, drawing her frightened form closer, too close to the predator before her. She screeched, flinging her arms into the air, attempting to create space. He ignored her movements and lifted her onto his shoulder, ignoring her screams and grunts of disapproval. With long, strong strides, he threw open the heavy doors and stomped to the staircase. Still ignoring her fists pounding on his back, he took the stairs two at a time, pulling them both closer and closer to the top. She paused in her failing assault to look around. He was walking down the hallway to her bedroom. What was he…OH NO HE WAS NOT!
"NO! I am not sleeping with you in my room!"
He continued to ignore her. He passed her door, not sparing it a glance. His heavy boots thundered on the floors as a warning to the staff. No one was to come to this part of the house. Nothing was to distract him from his goals. He would savor the kill, and find pleasure in ripping the soul away from the corpse. His hard eyes locked on his destination. Only a few more steps, and all would be finished. He threw the intricately carved doors open with little thought spared as the wood slammed into the stone walls. Further into the room, he stalked, his woman still fighting to regain her control of the situation that was never hers to control.
With nothing more than a flex, he threw Clary's small figure off of his shoulder and into the air. She flailed until she landed on soft linen wrapped in luxurious silks. Clary stopped, and looked around. She didn't recognize this room. It was dark, and help an air of age to it that the rest of the house lacked. Jonathan turned to the doors and slammed them shut, locking the handle against any intruders. Slowly, he turned back to her, his stiff back against the door. As he surveyed her tousled look and befuddled eyes, the wicked smirk returned. He took a step towards her and motioned to the room, "Do you know where you are, dearest?"
Clary shook her head, a bit frightened by his behavior. He chuckled darkly, those intense black holes of eyes fixed on her very soul, "My room, of course." He looked around, feigning concern, "I do hope that you had not plans, lover, as you won't be leaving this room for many days." He looked at her and grinned evilly, "I plan on keeping you very busy." He prowled to the bed, the grin never fading, "Do you have any idea how torturous it has been, smelling your arousal perfuming the air, yet not being able to do anything about it by my own word?" He groaned loudly, glaring at the ceiling, "Horrible! It's been horrible." The grin came back, "But that's all over, isn't it? You've finally fulfilled the agreement. Now, I'm going to be very clear about my intentions."
He pulled off one boot, tossing it to the ground. Thunk! He seemed so relaxed, but Clary kept waiting to be pounced on. She knew it was coming. Thunk! The other boot hit the ground. He lifted one knee onto the bed, towering over her. One arm shot out, grabbing her ankle. He yanked her closer to him and gently, reverently removed her shoes. Still holding her ankle in a caress, he met her eyes, heat burning from his eyes, "I am going to tease you in retaliation for the abuse I have suffered at your hands. Then, when you are begging for mercy, I will give you so much pleasure that you will cry and scream for me to stop." His grip suddenly tightened on her ankle and he shoved it away from the other, parting her legs obscenely, "Then, I'm going to fuck your pussy bloody." He slid his hand down the inside of her leg, pushing her skirt up until his hand was just over her panties. He locked eyes with her, "And then, do you know what I'm going to do?"
Clary shook her head, "N-N-No…"
He pushed a finger into her through the lacy material. She cried out and thrust her hips towards his hand as pleasure shot through her system. He laughed and ripped the crotch, opening the area to his hand. Air assaulted her wet lips. Through the growing haze, nearly locked out by the pleasure of his fingers on her slit, she heard, "I'm going to start all over again, until the only thing you can do when you see me is to open your legs so I can thrust into you pussy and fill you with my seed." He leaned down to her ear as she cooed in pleasure, "And you're going to love it." He rubbed gently, only brushing her clit on occasion, but it was enough to keep her back arched and her mouth open in a never ending stream of gasps.
Jonathan smirked cruelly, waiting for the hitch in her breathing. He had read that females experience a significant tension in their muscles right before completion. If he could time it just right… there it is! He pulled his hand back, leaving her whimpering for just a little more. His smoldering black eyes, usually so flat, now burned with a passionate lust that Clary had never even imagined. He watched her beautiful face scrunch up in frustration. She opened her mouth to protest, but he slipped a wet finger over her lips, "No, darling. If you want anything, I need to get you out of that dress."
With a speed that surprised even Jonathan, Clary was off the bed on wobbly legs and yanking the dress off harshly, desperate to be free. He couldn't help but laugh as he pulled his shirt off, "Don't ripe it. That's my job." He stepped off of the bed and caught her frantic hands. With a gentle reverence that showed just how deep his affections went, he brought each wrist to his mouth and kissed her pulse, "I'm not going anywhere. I've been waiting for this moment for over a year. I won't love you any less if you decide you aren't ready. I love you, Clary. I might desperately enjoy your body, but I want and love you. There is no need to worry."
A fear that had been lodged in her throat ever since she realized how she felt about this man before her disappeared. She had nearly forgotten it was there. Yet, his words brought a sense of relief and she couldn't help but lift herself onto her toes and kiss his softly. It was a chaste kiss, especially compared to all they had been doing, but it held more love than any before it. She pulled back and placed one palm over his heart, "I love you, too. I want this, or I wouldn't have let it go so far." Jonathan smiled down at her: a real, but rare smile. He cupped her cheek and tilted her head before capturing her lips once more.
However, this kiss was rough and passionate. Jonathan wasn't even sure he was capable of another kind. As he licked her lower lip, waiting for the shy opening he knew would come; his hands crept to her back, intent on getting her out of the concealing garment. Clary slowly opened her mouth, allowing his tongue to slip inside and caress her into a lulled state of mind. Finally, his calloused fingers found the zipper. Slowly, as not to startle her, he pulled the mechanism down. The fabric loosened around her body, and Jonathan took a step back, taking in her divinity as the cloth slipped off of her and onto the ground. He drank in the sight of her limbs, curved and curled in muscles and delicacy. He looked into her sparkling emerald eyes as she pushed her firry locks back over her shoulders.
She crossed her arms over her chest, unsure and uncomfortable with her body. Jonathan stepped forward and took her arms gently again. Lightly, he guided them down to her sides, "There is nothing to hide. You're the most perfect creature that I have ever had the pleasure to lay my eyes upon." He kissed her again and guided her back to the bed. Their night had only just begun. As he joined their bodies gently, trying to appease her naivety, he looked into her clouded eyes, ecstatic that he had nearly made her mindless with his attentions. As he moved, he acquainted himself better with her body. She was perfection, and she was his for all eternity. No one could separate them. He would kill the fool before the thought had even finished forming.
He took her multiple times that night, and well into the next day. Some were lazy. Some were wild. Some were gentle. Yet, he always brought her to completion while looking her in the eye. He would never allow her to believe that she wasn't the center of his universe. Come what may, she would always be his Queen.
Late one afternoon, some days since their coupling began, he lay on his bed. One arm was wrapped around his mate, while the other was holding his head up. A content smile graced his usually stony lips. He had the world in his arms. She was still asleep, tuckered out from their rigorous activities. He admired her. The slope of her jaw, and the curve of her nose enthralled him. How could such a creature love him? He smirked to himself. Demon blood really could work magic. To think it only took one dose to make all of his dreams reality! As her barely-there eyelashes caressed her cheeks, he reflected on his luck. In another life, he might be dead; he would have never experienced what it was to love and be loved in return. He had grown up believing that love was a foolish creation by weaker creatures to explain away their drive to reproduce. He still believed that love could make a man weak. However, he also acknowledged that it could strengthen.
Jonathan was a merciless, cold killer. He didn't care about anyone outside of his bedroom at that point. She was all he needed. To anyone else, he couldn't care less. He would kill Mia right now if he believed she was the mole. He knew it would hurt Clary, but she would come to understand. She had already forgiven so much due to the angel-tainting blood. What would a few more deaths be in the scheme of things? He was not weak when it came to others. He would kill anyone who threatened Clary. He wouldn't protect anyone but Clary, and any offspring they may have. It didn't matter the circumstance. He would only place himself in harm's way for her and their children. No one else would be safe.
He looked toward the drawn curtains. He needed to go see about Magnus. No doubt, the warlock believed he had gone back on their deal. Yet, as he looked down at the woman in his arms: his new lover, he couldn't bring himself to leave the bed that they had inhabited for days and nights. He settled down, determined to sleep and mate at least thrice more before leaving their cavern to deal with the rebellion and all of the details that went with it.
Yeah. I felt guilty and this thing appeared. I am working on the ending. The story is finally coming towards a close. Maybe a handful of chapters left. Thank you for the many reviews, follows, favorites, and PMs. I really love how much appreciation this story has gotten over the years. Hopefully, you see this as a bit of an award for your diligence.