Disclaimer: Do I really even have to do this anymore. ***Insert No TMI ownership statement here****

Beware for any mistake, sorry in advance, I haven't fully edited yet.

Clary POV.

"Are you okay?" his voice rang out.

What was it about that voice?

Clary felt shivers run down her spine-shivers that must have been because of the breeze. The nice, spring-like, warm breeze...

"Getting closer to being okay. Physically." Clary sighed the response out and slowly-because her head was still killing her despite the iratze on her forearm- she sat herself up. As it turned out, many of the buttons on her shirt had been torn off, leaving a plunging neckline down her chest. The top of her plain cotton bra was showing, as was the pounding red rune on the left part of her sternum. Sitting made the gaping space even bigger, and something Clary wasn't accustomed to festered in the bottom of her stomach.

As the seconds ticked by Clary felt the heat make its way up to spread across her chest, and then she felt it cloud in her throat.

What in the angel's name?

Clary pulled the two sides of her shirt closed and held her fist there, the ache suddenly disappearing.

Was she actually feeling...self-conscious?

No, absolutely not, could never be.

But still she held her hand there.

"Want to talk about it?" Jace's voice was still a familiar sounding beauty yet...it sounded like he cared. Another feeling crawled into her chest again, flashing across her heart like lightening. Clary suddenly hated feelings.

"What's there to talk about?" she replied in a rhetorical question.

"What's there not to talk about?" was his, of course, reply.

She laughed without humor and started to spew the words out uncontrollably. "He's never been a brother to me. Ever. In fact, he'd threatened to kill me i don't know how many times. I-I-I've a demonic boyfriend who tried to murderme, and I'd been trapped in my own home, literally, until I had to run away! My life is screwed, my brother was basically molesting me," Jace paled a little bit at that- probably because the thought itself was disgusting. "A-and yet I knew it was because he wanted to do this. To make me purge with disgust because he hates me so much it radiates off of him and he'd never, ever, dare touch me! My mother ran away from our home and my entire family hates her guts, probably killed her, and I-I killed my own freaking father! I mean...who does that?"

"Clary..."Jace said with a strange look on his face. He moved towards her and lowered himself beside her, stroking her arm as he went. It felt nice. It felt familiar-but almost as if it should have been caressing her side, her ribs, her...

Her cheeks went red as she turned from him.

"Clar-why are you blushing?" he asked with that adorably sexy smirk of his.

Wait...adorably sexy-no. No, annoying and repugnant. And she definitely did not need him knowing she was thinking...intimate...things about him. She did not need that smirk growing.

So she improvised. "It's the, uh, the rune going to work. Iratze's tend to draw out extra blood in our systems and use the excess white blood vessel's to repair diseases and injuries. I've a massive headache. It must be working on my brain."

"Of course,"that damned smirk growing on those oh so perfect lips, his eyes glinting in that dangerous dark way that made her want to just...

"Not thinking about me. And the fact that my hand is still resting on your arm, or the way I'm hovering over you with my other hand near your hip instead of just sitting next to you like a friend would" His whisper was husky in her ear. Like in the bed that morning. And then she was thinking about the way he'd touched her then and...

Oh, by the angel when would it stop?

She shook her head and pushed him away, hating that she was so physically attracted to him. Finding new strength she stood up. "No," she replied flatly, staring down at him. "In fact, I wasn't thinking of the way you were invading my personal space and taking advantage of the fact that I was wallowing in self-pity and very vulnerable to the exposure of your cocky, arrogant self,"she held a hand up to ward off Jace's response and started to address the real problem.

"I know where we are." She started and Jace closed his mouth to let her speak. By the glint in his eyes Clary knew he wasn't about to say something nice. Probably rude. Probably something sexy. "We're just outside of the Morgenstern Manor, where I grew up. And to get back to Alicante, assuming we want to, we'd have to go through the main township. That's the fastest way." she cursed under her breath. "The guards are stationed there too, my father always..." She took a deep breath and repressed all background memories and thoughts from the present. Because then didn't matter in the now. Not when the now meant having to possibly escape an escalating danger.

"Well, why did you bring us here then?" Jace asked, curiosity an arrogance brightening his voice.

"I don't know, Jace" she said, suddenly growing angry at the golden boy. "Would you have have rather me taken the time to think about where we were going instead of rescuing myself and you! That I wanted to go straight to the Clave. Maybe even to an ocean side hotel, with a tiny drink featuring a miniature umbrella and a lounging chair so you could rest your feet? Great idea!"She threw her hands into the air and started pacing back and forth.

"Sarcasm," Jace retorted with an amused smile-one that made Clary's insides literally boil with anger."Is my native tongue. You may not want to use it," Clary stopped walking and looked down at his smirking face as he put his hand to the side of his mouth and told her in a mock-secretive voice. "Some people say my tongue's not that becoming in a girl's mouth." He leaned back and tilted his head, as if studying her from a new angle. "And a pretty girl, at that"

Clary just stared at him. She was sure that was an innuendo. And she guessed- because she really didn't know Jace all that much- by his cocky attitude and lean towards rude and arrogant remarks that he was very flirtatious. So it would make sense he was trying to flirt with her. But she also knew he was serious when it was expected, she'd seen it. And it was expected.

So why was he trying to flirt with her?

Especially when the argument that he wasn't interested was the only thing making her not consider attacking him at this very moment.

Attacking in a good way, of course, because that was all she could seem to think about recently.

Currently.

oh Angel.

Isabelle POV.

He laughed again and Isabelle shuddered. "And she figured it out! Good job, Princess." Jonathon Morgenstern laughed once again. He crouched before her across the hallway, his obsidian eyes boring into hers before she bared a smile at him, feigning confidence.

In all honesty, Isabelle Sophia Lightwood was scared out of her mind.

And not for herself, no not at all.

Her brother was tied up in the kitchen, bleeding half to death, Aline Penhallow tending to his wounds. It was a miracle that they let her walk around and as Isabelle felt the tightening coils of her whip constrict her arms from even flexing she felt immensely jealous.

And that was a strange fact. Herself being jealous of Aline Penhallow.

But it was there, lingering under the surface of her skin, basking in the glory that was her chest, her throat, the edges of her fingernails making them itch to scratch the other girl's eyes out. "Why does she get to walk around freely?" she whined. Jonathon took his time to answer, and Isabelle let her mind wander.

Glancing at the door Izzy wondered when that Clave member, was his name Carl, no...Choal, yes, she was very much wondering where Choal the Clave member was and when he'd get back to their house. He had gone out for a jog in the forest that morning and now, though the sun was setting a fire to the evening sky, she still had hopes for him to come back.

"Because we can trust her not to attack us at any given moment,"

His voice broke her from her reverie and she flit her gaze back to Jonathon. "Aline can attack any time she wants, Morgenstern." Isabelle was glad Clary wasn't here or she'd have her head torn off for the way she spit out the name-like it was a curse.

She wondered where they were. If they were okay.

Hell, Jace would probably attack anything that came in their way with resounding passion. If not to protect himself then to protect the girl with him. For some unknown reason Jace had a protective view of the red-head. She remembered the day Clary was brought back to the Penhallow's, the day that lead to this.

Jace had her in his arms, a deranged look in his eyes as he laid her down on the bed. His arms were painted with streaks of blood, the streams running off of his finger tips and down the creases of his hands like little rivers. It stained his black shirt, the pants he wore smothered in the red hue, his face streaked with the thin red film as he wiped his forehead on his forearm.

"You have to help her," his voice, so cocky and confident, sounded nothing like the brother she knew. It was strained, as if seeing this girl he only just met in pain lead him to pain as well. "My stele, I don't have my stele, someone put an iratze on her already!"

Aline pulled out her stele. She was usually the gentlest of the gang, but in her hurry she slashed at the red-head's skin, trying to heal the dying soul.

"Gentle, Aline, that's too hard!" Jace exclaimed in a rush reaching out and grasping Aline's arm.

"That's the first time you've said that." she murmured, much to Isabelle's disgust. Yet she couldn't help appreciate her nimble fingers working swiftly as she burned on the healing rune. Isabelle turned away from the small girl and towards Jace who was staring down at the red-head in confusion and concern.

"Jace..."Isabelle said quietly, not wanting to disrupt Aline whom was burning another iratze on the red-heads arm. "Why are you so...worried?" She tried not to sound offensive but she couldn't help it. Jace never got...concerned.

He switched his gaze to Isabelle's and she saw his eyes widen partially, then he quickly reverted his face into its set of a bored mouth and judgmental gazehadv. That wasn't what Isabelle had wanted to do, though it felt a more natural expression. She didn't realize how opened up he became until he once again returned to being closed off. The corner of his mouth twitched and then flit upwards into a barely there smile. "If she dies Isabelle, it's my fault. I was the one that lead to the yelling, the screaming, the crying, the attraction to the scene. I would be the death of her." His gaze returned to the subject of converse and Izzy felt pride and pity fester in her chest. He was a good person when he actually tried...

Isabelle was pulled back into the present as Jonathon stepped in front of her. His boots were swallowing her view, along with his calves, and Isabelle looked up to see his face. She knew it was Jonathon for he was the one that ended the rushed conversation between himself and Sebastian as she was thinking, and his voice -for once- intrigued her. "She is on our side." was his whisper. She hated his whisper. The way his harsh breath felt close to her face. His exhale as he leaned closer to say the words.

"I know. We saw her talking to Verlac," she nodded her head in the man's general direction. "You could tell he really tried hard to keep your secret." she spit out sarcastically.

Jonathon's hand snapped across her cheek and she rolled her head back with a slight whimper. No tears came though. She couldn't bring herself to cry for this sick, twisted man. "Don't insult us. Either of us."

It was another goddamn whisper.

"And yes, Aline is on our side." He retreated for a minute and pondered this. "Well, her mother is on our side." He nodded, seemingly accepting that as an explanation.

"Jia Penhallow?What...how?!" she burst out. Jia Penhallow couldn't be working with them... she'd known Jia practically her whole life!

Jonathon's only response was,"She'd been an old ally of my Father's" Isabelle noted that his eyes grew darker at this. Then she realized Jonathon's father was dead.

"No,"she blatantly spoke. "No, Jia is part of the Clave, she-" Isabelle was cut off.

Sebastian spoke up this time. "Yes, exactly a reason to have her on our side. Well, Valentine's side. Jia Penhallow, Patrick Penhallow, Aline by association, all of them just happened to come into use. Choal was woth us as well." His tone was cocky- proud.

Isabelle felt her inside plummet. The only hope she had left for salvation was working with the enemy.

"The Clave member?" she whispered just as Jonathon inquired, "Choal? Who is this...Choal?"

"Yah." Sebastian replied, though more to Jonathon than herself. "One of the undercover agents we've trained in the forces, I asked him to come along and help me find Clarissa. Jia found her first, or well, she found Jia. I'd asked all of our allies to look out for her in case she dropped by Alicante. Choal was moving throughout the residents. It was like a perfectly woven net. He was posing as a Clave inspector and he'd just happened to catch a glimpse of Clarissa. Or so he told me. Why he didn't notify me right away I've no idea. I was meaning to ask him. " His eyes drifted off as he murmured to himself. "I was supposed to wasn't I? Yes, I was"

Isabelle rolled her eyes. Jace had recently told them about Clary and Sebastian, how they'd been forced together, trying to settle the confusion Sebastian's story brought. But Isabelle wondered what Clary had ever seen in the guy.

He talked to himself.

Out loud.

Like he was going mad, or just plain schizophrenic.

She sighed and slumped, her shoulders dropping forward, giving in to exhaustion as night started to settle. Yet when Alec cried out she immediately straightened. Aline had him on the table, a piece of dampened gauze on his deep wound. She felt her heart break for him, the only family she could truly count on, "Why not just put an iratze on him?" she asked quietly and turned away from the wounding sight.

"Because," Jonathon started, standing up. "We don't want him alive. You all know too much already. To be honest, we could recruit you but I think you've shown more untrustworthy behaviour then trustworthy and we can't risk rebellion in a new world."

"Then why keep us alive?" She asked, unable to help her curiosity. "Why keep us here, tied up, if we're of no use to you?"

Jonathon's eyes glittered. "Now, I never said there was use to you, did I?" Isabelle felt her face pale even further than her milky complexion. "We need you to lure Clarissa in, well, lure the boy in. Clarissa won't leave him, she seems..attached to you lot for some reason. Indebted. Surely you would know why?" His eyebrow quirked upwards.

"We saved her life," Isabelle thought aloud. "We saved her life and now she feels as if she must save ours?"

"Ahhh," Jonathon sounded pleased by this. "And that is why I am a cold hearted bastard. So uncomfortable situations much like this are avoided."

Sebastian snickered. "Yah, that's why." he quipped. Jonathon just chuckled and gazed at Isabelle.

"And you need Clary for her blood, her power, her...angelness?" Isabelle asked.

Jonathon's eyes glowered back at her, a complete 180 in his mood. "We've established that I need her blood, Isabelle, this conversation is starting to loop in circles. So let me put things straight." He leaned in close and whispered. Again. " There will be a period of time before the transition is complete, of course, but this Mark, this rune, it will drain her of her fullest essence. The light in her will be forvever dimmed into a fog. If not snuffed out completely."

Isabelle slumped back again with dawning realization.

Clary Morgenstern was doomed to an inevitable fate of death.

If she came to save them, the Penhallow's house would be bathed in blood.

Clary POV.

His arm kept brushing hers.

Or his hand

Or his leg.

A few steps and then an electric shock, reverberating between bodies and sparking her nerves all the way to the tips of her hair.

Why was this happening? It hadn't started until this morning. When he...touched her. When he almost kissed her.

"We should set up a camp soon," she felt her lips move, heard her voice appear, but didn't know when she thought of the idea, or when she commanded them to do so. "The demons are terrible at night, I was always gone by sunset," she glanced at the darkening sky. " We have a 5 day hike ahead of us and even this far from the township we couldn't be too sure about patrols. They'd start soon, very soon," There was another brush along her arm making her rant stutter. "A-and there's a few clearings we can sle-" her voice hitched as the back of his hand ran along hers. "Would you stop that!" she burst out abruptly.

She stopped walking and looked towards him. He turned and stared with burning golden eyes.

That's when time stopped.

Or so it felt.

Looking into them she felt as if she'd just actually saw him, like all this time he was an old memory and he just came forth. It was seeing and hearing, and smelling. It was every sense in all their capacity combined, thrust to hit her like a tsunami. Like he was hidden behind a wall of water and just emerged.

She couldn't do anything but swallow and stare.

Oh angel, why now of all times?

The pure gold of him hit her full force, the brunt of his amber eyes gazing into her own, and she was so caught up in its capacity that she barely caught his voice. "Stop what?"

His voice snapped her out of the paralyzed state as she shivered from its deep tone. "Brushing yourself against me!" she shouted to hide her true emotions and turned away not recognizing the feeling resonating throughout her body. "Just stop! I am sick and tired of being so spontaneously and unreasonably attracted to you" The words spewed out of her mouth and left her stunned.

She was left with no thoughts as Jace's eyebrows up, along with the edges of his lush lips. His eyes filled with an emotion, like a malicious dark...something. And it didn't necessarily scare Clarissa.

No, not one bit.

"Well, we'll have to stop that won't we," he whispered and that whisper sent shivers down her spine. Her mind was screaming at her that this shouldn't have been happening, that they had to keep moving, they had to keep their eyes open. But her heart, and body, was already taking action, responding in such a positive way to his husky tone.

It cherished her.

Clary wasn't used to being cherished.

"We'll have to make you less..."he paused as his long, muscled legs covered the small space between them, taking that one step closer and enveloping them in a golden haze. "Frustrated," he finished seductively.

Clarissa realized the innuendo, and when she didn't immediately scold him-mentally or verbally- she realized she didn't care about how ridiculous flirting was at this time. Life didn't feel real anymore.

In fact all tasks at hand had drifted away a long time ago.

It was as if Jace Lightwood had carved them their own world, was starting a story, a tale, where the only characters were them. Clary and Jace. Morgenstern and Lightwood. They were the only things, he was time itself, a golden prolonged entity. It was Jace. It was close, understanding, foggy serenity.

It was escape.

And then it was shattered as she was thrown on the grass, and stuck under a very comfortable weight.

Her tale ripped to shreds as was brought back to the harsh reality.

Review?

***Side note about plot line***

So the sudden attraction comes into play down the line-you'll see why they're suddenly so close, actually I'd like to see if you can guess because i did leave a little hint- but i wanted to know if you thought it was too sudden.

Should I tone down the Clace?

Ramp it up?

Did you like it? Hate it? Was it too long? Please, let me know.

Thanks for reading, follow, favourite, review, and read again! Lovestory112.