Author's Note: Hey, y'all! Sorry I never updated again last night. It was just one of those uninspired days. Anyway, I'll make it up to y'all by posting three times today. This is the first update of the day! YAY!
I wanted to answer a request someone had for me in the reviews yesterday. Someone asked if I could do a Jace POV. The answer is yes. Probably. Maybe. But sometime in the future-maybe even when the story is over. I don't want to do one right away because it might give away too much to y'all as readers. I will go ahead and write a few Jace POVs, however, because I just love writing different points of view and I also love getting inside other character's heads like that. It helps me as a writer. So thank you for the suggestion!
I will most definitely be writing a Jocelyn POV at the end of the story, as well, to give a little insight onto some background things, things Clary doesn't know about/won't know about. But all this stuff will most likely come after the "END" of Clary's story.

Also. 400 reviews? Really. Y'ALL ARE AMAZING. I hope you realize how amazing y'all are...because y'all are.

Chapter Thirty-Six

"Clary!"

I turn my head carefully to peep over my shoulder as I sashay through the front lobby of the Wonderer.

It's Jace, and he's walking over to me slowly, wearily, a frown marring his perfect face. "There you are. Where have you been?"

I can't quite look at him. Not after last night, so I look down my white gloves as I pull them off daintily and walk towards the elevator. "I had lunch with my mother."

"Oh, I see." Jace's voice is subdued. He must know that I had lunch with her to discuss last night.

"You weren't there when I got out of the bath," I say calmly, hitting the elevator button and waiting for it to come down to us. "Or I would have told you then."

"I forgot I had weapons training this morning," Jace murmurs. "I didn't have time to write you a note."

"You don't have to apprise me of your whereabouts, Jace," I reply coolly.

Jace stiffens in my periphery, and I can feel the anger radiating off of him, but I don't realize it's extent until the elevator comes before us and Jace snaps at the attendant, "We'll catch another one," before grabbing my arm and hauling me towards the stairwell.

When the stairwell door closes behind us and we are alone, Jace glares down at me hotly and demands, "What the hell is wrong with you now?"

"What's wrong with me?" I echo back deadly. "Nothing, Jace. I don't know why you'd feel that way."

His hand slams against the wall near my head furiously. "Dammit, Clary. One minute you're finally thawing out, and the next you're as cold as ice. Could you give me some kind of warning before you decide to flip your switch?"

I blink at him. "You don't give me the same courtesy, so why should I?"

"Why are you like this?" Jace asks, his face very close to mine all of a sudden, his eyes boring into my own with too much intensity. "Why are you doing this? Do you get some sort of sick satisfaction from driving me up the fucking wall?"

I roll my eyes. "Not everything I do is for you, Jace."

"I knew you'd be like this. I knew it, and that's why I asked you ten times last night if you were okay with this. I should of known you wouldn't be, however, seeing as how you change your mind every two seconds."

I feel my anger rising, bubbling up within me, and I'm unable to stop it. "I'm not incapable of making up my own mind, Jace."

"Well," he says, seething, "it sure as hell seems like it."

We glare at each other for a long time, both of equally enraged and aroused. I can feel that heat between us, that pulsing electricity, and it's powerful, becoming stronger the longer we glower, the harder are breath becomes.

Then Jace is kissing me like I know he will, and I'm getting lost in feeling, like I wish I wouldn't. But it's useless, especially now, when my body knows what pleasure he can bring. I can't breathe or think, and he takes advantage of his, pushing me up against the wall, his lips attacking mine.

We're wild and feral, almost, the way we're clawing at each other. This is what my body is craving. It wants him, wants him so strongly that it over powers my mind, and Jace must know this because he's lifting me, sliding me up the wall a bit, pressing himself against me, right where I want him and need him the most, and I'm feeling how hard he is right there against me, and I want the clothes between us to be gone so he's inside me... And I feel his hands moving my legs, slipping under my skirt, grabbing at the sides of my panties, starting to pull them down—

"Jace, no, stop," I plead, pushing at his shoulders, my voice breathless and lusty. "Stop, put me down."

He surprises me by obeying my request, even if he does groan in dissatisfaction, but he's still kissing me, brushing his lips over my cheeks and my temple and my jaw—

I push him away slightly and shake my head violently. "No, Jace. We aren't doing this. Not again."

At this, Jace's brows arch in surprise over his desire-filled eyes that are impossible for me to look directly at. "Not again? As in, never?"

"As in, for an indefinite amount of time," I correct, smoothing down my skirt where Jace had hiked it up in his quest to remove my panties.

He lets out this disbelieving exhale of laughter and shakes his head. "I don't understand you one bit, Clary."

"Good," I snap.

Jace looks slightly disgusted. "Well, I'm sorry I ever touched you—against my better judgment—because I knew you'd pull this bullshit." He runs his hands through his hair angrily, making it stick up in strange places. "I just hoped you wouldn't."

"Sorry to disappoint," I say acidly before ducking past him, back out into the lobby, letting the door to the stairwell fall shut between us.

Dinner is a stiff affair.

Jace and I manage to avoid each other all day after the argument in the stairwell but when Isabelle asks if I can accompany her to dinner—and then when she asks Jace to come along, as well—our collision is unavoidable.

The three of us sit, death-quiet, in the dinning room. The soft music and conversation drifts around us, but we remain untouched and still.

Isabelle fidgets a few times, obviously picking up on the tension, but she's unable to pick up where it's coming from. I can tell this by the way she keeps looking between Jace and I and the big gap between us where the table sits.

"How was everyone's day?" she finally asks brightly.

"Fucking fantastic," Jace drawls.

Izzy blinks and then clears her throat. "Okay. Noting the sarcasm there. Should I not even bother to ask why?"

Jace just gives her a look that's her answer as he takes a sip of water.

She nods. "Okay. Clary, then—how was your day?"

"It was lovely, thank you," I murmur quietly, pushing around a crouton on my salad.

Izzy falls silent for a minute before blowing out a big sigh and sprawling out into her chair like Jace. She's kept her posture like mine for the past thirty minutes but it seems to have finally proven to be too much. "Okay, what's going on? Why are you in such a pissy mood, Jace? What did you do to Clary?"

"Why do you assume it's me?" Jace demands. "It's her. She can't make up her damn mind on anything."

"Don't pretend that you're a saint," I snap despite myself, glaring up at him.

"Well, if I remember correctly, I'm not the one who started any of this."

I snort in disbelief. "Do you honestly believe yourself or are you just accepting of your habitual lying?"

"I didn't start anything last night, and you know it," Jace mutters, glaring down at his plate.

I do know it. It was me that kissed him. That rolled on top of him. That told him yes.

I feel my flush rising up my neck, staining my cheeks dark rose as I slide down into my seat and cross my arms.

I have no good come back for him because he's right.

And I know I'm being unfair.

I just do not enjoy how easily my control seems to slip around him.

"Clary, can I talk to you for a second?" Izzy inquires quickly, already standing up and grabbing at my arm, hauling me up, as well, and dragging me through the dinning room.

She doesn't slow until we are in the ladies' room, and she's checked under all the stalls to make sure no one else is around.

Then she turns to me, cocks her hip, arches her brow. "You two had sex."

"Isabelle!" I huff, marching over to the mirrors to check my makeup.

"You did! I know it! I knew it would be a big stink the morning after. Both of you are so hardheaded," she announces, flouncing over to stand beside me as I touch up my lipstick.

I give her a glare in the mirror's reflection. "I don't want to talk about it."

"So you didn't even enjoy it?" Isabelle sounds disbelieving.

And I make the mistake of not answering.

She laughs. "Oh! You did enjoy it, and that's why you're so upset, I bet." She nods, pleased with herself. "Yeah, you seem like the type that's afraid to give in to anything good. And you were probably raised with the belief that sex is just for the men—just good for them and just good for controlling them. Not so, huh?"

I blink rapidly as I smooth my finger along the lines of my mouth, making sure to wipe away any stray lipstick.

"Well, why are you so worried about it, Clary? Just have fun with Jace. I mean, it's not like you guys aren't stuck with each other. Might as well enjoy good sex."

"Isabelle, you are as crude as ever," I murmur, rolling my eyes.

"I'm just trying to help you out, Clary. Don't deny yourself everything in life. That's no fun. Besides, you're married to Jace. And he's good in the sack—so you've got it made. Don't worry so much."

"How you can talk about this when Jace is your cousin is beyond me," I mutter.

"Well, I'm talking about it with you—not Jace. And you're my friend. It's the same advice I'd give any of my friends—if I had any." Isabelle swishes her lips back and forth, smoothes her hand down her still-flat stomach. "I'm just trying to be helpful—like you are to me."

This softens me, and I sigh quietly, finally looking over to make eye contact. I offer just the smallest smile and say, "Thank you, Isabelle."

She shrugs. "Sure. But you're not going to listen to me. You're too hardheaded."

I laugh once, and the sound is almost foreign to me. I press my hand to my forehead and say, "I suppose I am rather stubborn. I just…I don't like feeling out of control." I'm surprised I've said so much, but I've held onto so many things for so long that sometimes it feels as though I'm going to burst.

Isabelle just smiles slightly, devilish. "And Jace makes you feel out of control." She purses her lips. "Well, I say run with that. Maybe you need some loosening up."

I roll my eyes at her and laugh yet again, but I do think over her words more than I care to admit.

Hm. What do y'all think?