Shortly after I took flight from the Faerie bar, I found myself in front of the large wooden passage leading to the Institute. Drunk, swaying with the high of Fey magic coursing through my veins, I fumbled with the handle. I fumbled to get back to Clary, because thats what I was running towards, wasn't it?
Stepping into the foyer I kicked off my shoes, the chilled touch of granite on the arches of my feet spread ice and goosebumps up my flesh. The hallway seemed much longer than I remembered. I made my way down the relentless corridor, I had to have been walking for nearly an hour, or so it felt, before I reached the warm light peeking through the library doors, waiting to engulf me.
Two hands on the engraved wood of the cracked door, its design snaking through my fingers, moving, changing, breathing. Pull it together Jace, its just Faerie magic. The door groaned with hesitation as I shoved past its boundaries into the warmth of a library dimly lit through one stained glass lamp shade. I knew what I was walking toward, I knew what awaited me beyond those doors. I didn't care if I didn't deserve it. I didn't even care that it may not desire me the same way that I craved it. All I knew in that moment, beneath a sea of dusty Shadowhunter literature, is that it needed to know that I cared.
The pattern on the Persian rug was mesmerizing, the vines and foliage reaching out of the fibers curling and climbing their way up the feet of single red velvet couch. The vines wouldn't stop, they were searching for something too. A mess of copper curls, threatening to sear the maroon velvet with their fire, hung from the edge of the couch. A pale chest supporting the pages of a book that did not matter, rose and fell unaware of the lurking Persian vines reaching to greet it.
Once again my feet were moving forward without my command. A vine kissed her cheek, caressing the flesh I so desperately wished to covet. I felt the bile rise in my throat. Don't hurt her. I was kneeling in front of the maroon couch, before the mess of curls and the steady breathing of a pale, freckled chest. A submission to the vines that threatened to consume her. My thumb stroking the portion of her cheek that always blushes the deepest. Her lips parted and a soft disgruntled moan escaped her mouth.
Through fluttering copper lashes, her eyes met mine in startling recognition.
"Jace" I loved the way that syllable sounded on her tongue. Crisp and warm. Suddenly aware of my state, drunk and high from Fey poison, I had no reason to be touching her innocence. My filth covering her purity like the soot of coal on an honest man's face.
"I'm sorry Clary, I didn't mean to wake you." I fumble for my footing, removing both my hand from her cheek and myself from her presence. I am grossly stupid for allowing her to see me like this.
"Wait, Jace" A sirens call, I halt, unmoving like a corpse, my back to her. A tiny hand grips my shoulder attempting to turn me around, I allow it. "Your lip, its bleeding. What happened to you, by the angel Jace, are you alright?" My breath trapped in my chest hoping she couldn't smell the sweetness of the Faerie on me. I turned to leave once more.
"Jace, please stop. Let me have a look?" Her tiny hands gripped into my shoulder again, desperately trying to turn me around. I offered her with more resistance this time. She shouldn't see me like this. Her other hand reached around and landing softly on my neck. I could tell she was on her tip toes, I felt the control within me slowly come undone. The fire in my belly threatening to engulf me. I turned, eyes on the floor like a child who knew he was in trouble never once looking up to meet hers. She took my hand, leading me to her bathroom. My flesh tingling with the remnants of where she had touched me. My mind fuzzy with magic, no longer that of Faerie, but of that of fire.