"What do you mean she's 'not worth saving?'"

The demon boy's voice was low, his eyes narrowed and deadly. His blade was at the warlock's throat, pinning him to the wall. A narrow trickle of blood was visible, running down his neck. The warlock stayed silent and Jonathan lost it, hissing into his face, "Cynthia is strong. She can be saved. Cure. Her."

"There is no… there is no way you can cure what has been done to her!" the warlock cried, hands bound behind his back. "Some things, some people you just cannot fix. She is one of them."

A muscle twitched in Jonathan's jaw right before he slew the warlock.

Three warlocks he'd found, three warlocks who had refused to help him, that Cynthia was better off dead. Three warlocks dead at his hand.

As he made his way back to where he was keeping Cynthia safe, he wondered something. That if looking for a cure for her was love. All his plans were on hold as he searched. But there was nothing. Everyone had told him to kill her. To save her.

But he wouldn't do that. More like he couldn't.

If that wasn't love, he had no idea what it was.

-LightInYourNightmare-

Cynthia was awake when he returned, and to his utter surprise, cooking.

"I am starving." She just told him as she plucked the muffins from the toaster without a single glance at him. "Cinnamon and sultana. Want one?"

"You can cook?" Jonathan asked in an amused tone. It was good to see her around and about though. She was wearing one of his black t-shirts, the hem falling to about the middle of her thighs. Her legs were long, luscious and bare. More mouthwatering than the muffins, that was for sure.

Cynthia snorted at his words, shoving two more into the toaster for him, buttering up her own. Her face, Jonathan noticed, was so much thinner than he last remembered it. But still beautiful. She'd always be beautiful.

His beautiful one.

Jonathan was still staring when Cynthia shoved the plate with buttered muffins on under his nose, arching a brow with her eyes pretty much saying, up here mister. He regretted nothing as he shoved a muffin into his mouth. It was heavenly.

"And just where did you learn to cook?" Jonathan asked after swallowing. Cynthia replied after biting into her own, "I asked the maids to teach me sometimes."

"It's a good look," Jonathan just told her, finishing off the rest of his muffins. Cynthia glanced around now before hitching herself up onto the top of the work surface, asking, "so how long have I been out of it?"

"A while," was his reply, stepping between her legs and resting his hands atop her hips. Cynthia leaned down and pressed her lips to Jonathan's forehead, muttering out, "they said you died. Jace told me that you were dead. That he'd done it himself."

"He wasn't lying either."

Cynthia froze, but before she could speak again, Jonathan had captured her lips to his own, murmuring out against them a moment later, "my little love, do you truly believe that I'd leave you?"

A pause. "In the Silent City, do you mean?" Cynthia asked with a frown, raising a hand and twirling a lock of white blonde hair around a finger. He said Yes with his eyes, adding "I woke up and found myself wondering where you were. As soon as I found out you were locked up, I came to get you out."

"How daring prince of you."

"As our father said- you are a dark princess." Jonathan's eyes were smoldering almost, gazing up at her. Cynthia gazed down at him in silence, trailing a hand down his arm until she reached the metal at his wrist. She pulled the plate around to face her, cocking her head a fraction, reading out, "Acheronta Movebo?" He said nothing to that, even when she unfastened it and set it down upon the side with a light clunk.

She was staring at the raised angry red scar that was ringing his wrist. A frown creased her features as she bought it up to her lips, kissing it gently.

"I want to kill Jace for what he did to you," Jonathan breathed out, making the girl freeze. "How-?" she started, but Jonathan replied quietly, "I read the reports…" her hand traveled down towards her stomach, but she caught it with a snarl, wrenching it away. "Don't," she warned him with narrowed eyes, "don't do that. It's Valentine's fault. If I wasn't… this, there wouldn't have been anything wrong with-"

"Okay, touchy."

"Let go of me Jonathan," Cynthia truly growled, pushing him harshly away. He stumbled back, not even moving as she threw his bracelet at him. It bounced off his chest and onto the floor.

Jonathan kept his eyes fixed upon her, saying under his breath a moment later as Cynthia slid from the side, "god. You are so beautiful. My little bird. My Cynthia."

Neither said anything for a start, but then Cynthia gave up, crossing the space between them and crashing her lips to his own. Two months she'd thought him dead. Two months mourning and thinking she'd never see him again. Two months wishing she'd kissed him more times.

The cooker was digging into her back as Jonathan pushed her against it, his hands clamped firmly at her hips as they kissed. Kissed as if the world was about to be obliterated.

"You have no idea how much… I've missed you," Cynthia groaned against his lips as she raked her hands up his chest, hooking her fingers into the space between buttons and wrenching them apart. She pushed the torn shirt off his shoulders and rested a hand at his back.

Jonathan was growling against her lips as he kissed her back, winding a hand into her hair while his other slid up the back of her borrowed t-shirt. He twisted them around and pushed her backwards until the back of her legs hit the table, causing her to topple over onto the floor with a grunt of pain. It was swiftly muffled as he pinned her to the floor, trailing hands down her sides and hooking themselves under the black t-shirt, tugging it roughly up and over her head, tossing it aside. A pang of longing spread from Cynthia's stomach as he pressed his form to her own, their lips locked and kissing heatedly, gasps escaping her as she tried to breathe.

She rolled them over, hovering over him and groaning as his lips went to just under her ear, her hands shooting down to his belt, tugging it roughly open with a growl of her own. It was like every touch burned her, her nerves more than sensitive. Just the tiniest of brushes caused her to groan into his mouth, allowing him to flip them back over and lock her legs around his hips. But not before she'd undone his jeans and tugged them roughly down along with his boxers.

For a few minuets they kissed ardently, their lips on fire it felt like. Their hands were almost hurried. Frantic.

Jonathan climbed off her and tugged Cynthia to her feet, such a dark look of wanting about his eyes that she smirked, taking his hand and dragged him through the apartment and back to his room where she'd woken up. Cynthia swiftly shoved him inside and slammed the door shut behind her. She strolled forwards and pressed a hand to his bare chest, pushing him backwards onto the bed and climbed onto him, pressing her body flush to his own, kissing at his lips hungrily. As if she'd never been kissed before. Jonathan wasn't complaining as he wound a hand into her honey colored locks, returning her kiss just as passionately. Their lips were swollen already from the intensity.

He flipped them over and Cynthia let him take her to bed.

-LightInYourNightmare-

Cynthia woke up with her body burning. Or at least, she felt like she was.

She groaned lightly and opened her eyes, staring up at the ceiling for a moment. She recognized the place now- it was Valentine's escape. An apartment that moved around the world. She'd only been in once or twice when she was maybe thirteen, but that was it.

Jonathan was asleep with his bare, scarred back to her. She could see the marks her nails had caused stark red against his pale skin. One had even been bleeding, for the sheets were spotted with blood. All the pillows were on the floor along with the covers. She couldn't even remember falling asleep.

Cynthia leaned over the demon boy and turned him onto his back, raising a hand and cupping his cheek, pressing a kiss to his lips. She half expected him to jump up and try to throttle her from being woken up so rudely and suddenly, but he merely groaned and opened his eyes. They were dark and bleary.

"Morning," he mumbled against her lips, raising a hand and stroking her tangled honey blonde hair back for a moment. They kissed softly for a moment, so unlike them.

The bedroom door opened, a voice going in annoyance, "Sebastian, I don't see-" but the figure stopped dead in the doorway, staring at the pair on the bed.

All color drained from Cynthia's face and she truly snarled as she sat up. "Jace," she spat.

And then she leapt at him.