Jonathan never saw Cynthia for two whole weeks. But he wasn't worried- she was headstrong and fierce. She was safe, he was sure. She'd be back before long.

It was when she returned from Spain, relaxing in Paris that she heard the talk from the Downworlders. That Valentine's son was here. It didn't take her too long to find him. She knew his habits, his little tricks.

Jonathan was sat downstairs alone with a book open on his lap when the knock at the door came. His head snapped up, eyes sharp and attentive- who the hell could have found this place? It was hidden in ways even the most experienced of Shadowhunters would never find it. Unless you knew it was there.

As soon as he yanked the door open, the demon girl pushed her way inside with a "urgh, I need a shower. There better be hot water."

Jonathan was actually surprised as she strolled through the living room, yanking her shirt off over her head and letting it drop to the floor along with her bra. He just stared at her bare back for a long moment before coming back to life, calling after her with a growl, "where the hell have you been?!"

"Around."

"Define around."

Cynthia ignored his words. She kicked off her boots and tugged her jeans down along with her panties, tossing them over her shoulder. They landed at the demon boy's feet. He stepped over them, only to stop dead as the girl shut the door in his face. He stood there and rolled his eyes, calling out, "you can't avoid the question forever."

"I can," was all he got in return. The sound of running water was all that could be heard now. Jonathan strolled inside and closed the door behind him. Cynthia was in the shower, the frosted glass hiding her perfect form.

He stepped over to the door and slid it open, not caring that he had on jeans and a white t-shirt. His feet were bare. The water immediately assaulted him and Cynthia turned to face him, arching a brow. "So much for privacy," she snorted out, eyes flickering down to his chest- the water was causing the sopping material to cling to his stomach, the light muscles hard under her fingers as she trailed them over, cocking her head a fraction at the dark runes that were visible underneath. Bleeding through like ink on parchment. She knew that body well.

Cynthia said nothing as she trailed her fingers up his chest and slid her arm around his neck, tugging him against her bare form. They stood there kissing passionately for a few minuets until Cynthia broke it, saying as she trailed a finger down his cheek, "I killed my father. And said goodbye to my mother, if you must know. Then I took a holiday from you and Jace."

Jonathan snorted at that. "You've grown bored of me?"

"Bored? I spent two months in the Silent City thinking you dead. Far from bored. I just had unfinished business. I'm all yours now."

With a raised eyebrow, the demon boy leaned forwards and touched his lips to the spot just under her ear. One of her most sensitive places he knew from experience. "And what compelled you to kill your father hmm? I distinctly remember you telling me to stay away from him."

Cynthia snorted at that, letting her eyes flutter close as he kissed under her ear persuasively, the water dripping from their bodies. "I don't care anymore. He deserved it."

"Ah, but, my little dark princess, this isn't you."

Cynthia's eyes snapped open and she laughed out harshly, "I'm different now, Jonathan."

"Not really," he went absentmindedly, skimming his hands up her damp sides. His hands knew that body perfectly. "You're still beautiful. And mine. My dark princess."

Cynthia's arm that wasn't twined around his neck reached behind her, turning the shower off. Her eyes were dark and full of desire so intense he didn't have to ask her what she was thinking. Those midnight eyes, blank at times, were more than full of emotion now. And that was lust.

Biting her bottom lip softly, Cynthia raised her hand and trailed a finger across his bottom lip, breathing out as it slid off, "did you miss me?"

"Like hell," he returned instantly, voice husky. Their lips crashed against the others once more, low groans rumbling deep in their chests and throats. Jonathan trailed his hands down to her hips and hitched her up onto his own, not breaking the kiss once as she tightened her arm around his neck, her other going to his hair. Her fingers twined themselves into his sopping white gold locks, tugging at them none too gently.

Their lips stayed locked as Jonathan shoved the shower door open, walking them out. He paused in the middle of the room to grab a towel for Cynthia but thought better of it and let it drop back onto the floor. In a flash, the bathroom door was open and Jonathan had Cynthia pressed up against the hallway wall. Their kisses were hot and hungry. Cynthia's legs tight around his hips. Her hands left his hair and peeled the wet shirt from his torso, dropping it to the floor in a wet heap. A moment later, Jonathan hissed in pain as Cynthia's nails dug themselves into his bare shoulders, leaving red streaks that stung. She pressed her chest to his own.

The door further down the hallway opened and Cynthia spied a figure step out and freeze instantly at the sight of them. It was Clary. Cynthia arched a brow, then sniggered as a hand clamped itself over her eyes. Jace's. He more or less dragged her back inside his room as Cynthia slid down from Jonathan's hips, strolling over to him without a scrap of clothing on her. Her hair was wet and tangled. She smiled sweetly and leaned forwards, kissing his cheek, saying as he continued to stare at the ceiling "have you gone shy? It's nothing you haven't seen before. I bet you want to put your hands all over me like you did that night." She smirked. "Show Clary a good time like you did me and she'll be yours forever. Well, until you decide to destroy her. Like you did me." Her eyes narrowed. "I hope you go through the hell I did. Because I will visit every single day without fail just to laugh."

Jace said nothing. There was no point in antagonizing her further. He knew she wanted him dead… and for good reason. He'd thrown her away like trash.

Cynthia's eyes narrowed once more as she leaned closer, whispering out, "you will never, never understand what you did to me. I was pre-"

"Cynthia." Jonathan's voice was hard. She turned her head to him, eyebrow raised. "What?"

"You've made your point. And I don't exactly like the fact you're stood naked before Jace wearing utterly nothing."

Cynthia scoffed and raised a hand, baring her middle finger at the demon boy. She said nothing else as she pushed past and went downstairs. Jonathan and Jace avoided looking at each other as the demon boy walked past. But before he too went downstairs, he called after Jace, "do you still have feelings for my Cynthia?"

Jace cocked a brow and folded his arms. "Sebastian. There is nothing. Surely you of all people should know how much Clary means to me."

Jonathan nodded slowly, then smiled. It was fake, but convincing. He left the golden haired boy and went downstairs, spying Cynthia now in a dark green dress that fell to her knees. Even though it was meant for Clary, tight around the bust, she looked beautiful. She always looked beautiful. Even if she really was turning into something as dark as himself.

"Dance with me" was the first thing she said, her hand pressing Play behind her on the radio. Her hair was still wet, but her smile was cheeky. It was new and he liked it.

The song was in French, but they both understood it- Leona Lewis – Hurt. It was haunting and beautiful sung in French and Cynthia smiled, holding her hand out with her fingers wiggling. Daring him to take it. He did.

Jonathan pulled her into his chest, purring out against her lips, "you are so beautiful."

"You flatter me," Cynthia snorted, twining her arms around his still bare waist, a finger tracing light circles upon his lower back. It wasn't dancing. Not really. They just stood there swaying to the music and Cynthia had her head upon Jonathan's shoulder, her eyes closed. She felt warm and safe encircled in his arms. And that didn't happen often at all.

"Hmm," Jonathan murmured, his face buried in her honey blonde hair, "I like this." His hand stroked that same honey blonde hair back gently, his dark eyes closed. Never before had he felt so very peaceful. After a moment, he spun them around and let her fall, catching her at the last moment with a wide, cheeky grin. Her back was resting flat against the palm of his hand as he leaned down and caught her lips to his own for a moment. "My dark princess," he whispered against her lips. Cynthia laughed softly at that, returning his kiss with a mutter of, "my dark prince."

"Say that again," Jonathan asked, allowing the girl to straighten up, hands still at her hips.

"My dark prince," she breathed, raising a hand and cupping his cheek. It wasn't possible to stop touching him. He was too gorgeous. And hers. All hers. "Take me to bed," she ordered of him, twirling a lock of white blonde hair around a finger. Cynthia reached behind her and turned the music off.

"Do you remember?" Cynthia told him as he picked her up into his arms, starting up the stairs. Jonathan cocked a brow and she elaborated. "You promised me once upon a time that you would take me to Paris. Well guess where we are."

"I hate your memory at times."

"You're too cute," Cynthia giggled, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he backed into the bedroom, closing it with a foot. Jonathan set her down upon the bed. Cynthia watched in silence as he unbuckled his soaking jeans and tugged them off along with his boxers, causing her to arch a brow, playful grin upon her lips. She swiftly tugged the dress over her head and slid under the covers. They were black, like their eyes. Jonathan slid in next to her a minuet later, tugging the young woman into his arms.

Cynthia just stared up at the ceiling, the lamplight low, casting long, dark shadows across the room. It was a mess, as always. He'd learn how to clear up after himself one day, she hoped.

Jonathan was playing with her fingers, stroking them with his long own. Then, suddenly, he spoke up with, "I don't like your last name."

"Tough."

"Because it's not mine."

She blinked at that, then realized he'd slid his Morgenstern ring off. And that he'd slid it on a finger of her own. It was her left hand. The finger she thought would always be bare.

"I'm tying you to me," Jonathan told her, the Morgenstern ring sat snug on her finger. "Because you're mine. All mine. And the world needs to realize that. You of all people should know I don't share."

"And you want to… what? Make sure I… make sure that people know that? By making me marry you? Don't I get a choice?"

"No," Jonathan replied, closing his eyes. He'd twined the hand with his ring on with his own. "You don't get to choose."

"I demand it. I demand time to think about this."

"Tough. I'm eighteen, you're almost nineteen. I've died once, you're on the right track to hell. I say sooner the better."

Cynthia narrowed her eyes and tried to pull out of his arms, but he merely tightened his grip. It was impossible to escape. She fell silent, but then heard his quiet voice say, "fine. I want my answer tomorrow. It doesn't matter if you say No anyway. I'm binding you to me all the same."

"Through marriage?"

"Through marriage. It's a strong binding. The strongest. Even more so than parabatai, I guess. Our hearts are equally as dark. They might as well become one."

Cynthia shrugged and closed her eyes, listening to him switch the lights off. "Fine," she replied briskly before turning over a little more and burying her face into his warm chest. He smelt like her childhood. It bought back both good and bad memories. The little boy that burnt her drawings out of spite. That same little demon boy was all grown up now. The demon girl, her, too. She did love him. How could she not? It was a strange love they had, but a love nonetheless.

If, when they were younger, Jace had asked her to marry him, she would have said Yes in a heartbeat. But Jonathan? Making her do it to prove a point? To bind them?

But her time was running out. Jonathan had no idea of just what she'd been doing for the past two weeks... and it had been spent looking for information. About herself. What she was turning into. If she could be saved. She'd found nothing.

And she had no idea what to do.