Chapter 35: Clary and Jonathan The Liar… he's spinning quite a manipulative tale to Clary, but she's nobody's fool. She's starting to remember a few things.
POSSIBLE TRIGGER WARNING: non-con and drug use (Rated M).
I do not own any of the characters, only the illustrious Cassandra Clare owns them. I do, however, own this particular story, so please don't be lame and copy/paste it elsewhere.
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Previously: "He wondered again if she would remember the events that had transpired that night. He hadn't liked the fear and mistrust in her eyes. He wanted her to like him, trust him… love him."
Clary opened her eyes and blinked. Headache. She focused on a large window across the room and saw thick blustery snow raining down outside. Another snowstorm? Shit. I'm gonna go stir crazy if we get trapped inside again. Clary frowned as she realized she wasn't in her room… or Jonathan's. Where am I? She frowned and tried to sit up when strong arms snaked around her and pulled her backwards against a warm, naked chest. Shit. I am naked. Clary yelped and struggled, only to be held even tighter by large hands, cupping her breasts. A man groaned behind her and nuzzled her neck. She felt his naked arousal quickly grow against her ass. "Clarissa, love. You're finally awake."
Clary stilled and turned her head to see Jonathan. Did we– Oh yes we did. She closed her eyes and saw flashes of showering with him, stroking his dick, his fingers inside of her, his head buried between her legs, him thrusting into her… orgasms. Clary blushed deeply and bit her lip, looking at the bite marks and scratches on his neck and chest. "Jon, did we– umm. God, did I do that to your neck and chest?" Jonathan sat up, leaning on his elbow and looked down at her with a sweet smile. He reached out and wrapped one of her curls around his finger. "Umm…yes and yes. Although there wasn't much sleeping involved, love. It was— an amazing night, Clarissa. I cannot wait to have you again. You have simply ruined me for other women." He leaned down and kissed her hungrily on the lips. She smiled shyly and kissed him back, as he gently pushed her back down on the bed, rolling on top of her. Something felt off. Jonathan continued to kiss her, his hands wandering up and down her body, nudging her thighs apart with his knees. Clary noticed a throbbing between her legs. She felt raw and her inner thighs ached. She could feel his hardness rubbing against her leg. Why can't I remember more about last night? I need to think.
Clary put her hands on his chest and clenched her knees together. "Jon, stop. We need to talk. I also need to take something for my headache and take a shower. I'm pretty sore… down there."
Jonathan stopped, rolled off of her and laid on his side. Smiling devilishly, he flicked his eyes down her bare front. "Of course, Clarissa. I'm sorry for your discomfort. I'm afraid I'm a bit…large and things got rather heated last night. Rough, if you will. Darling, not to alarm you, but you do have some bruising on your jaw and arms. I'm sorry for that, love." Clary sat up and pulled a pillow against her chest, hiding her nudity. She lifted her arms and saw she had bruises around her upper arms. Bruising? Shit. Damn my fair skin. My face? What did we do?
He looked into her eyes, furrowing his brows in concern. "We were both pretty drunk, I think… damn sake bombs and martinis at Edom, after dinner. You were so wild, it was such a turn on. We both lost control a few times." Clary nodded and hugged the pillow tighter, feeling very naked. "I don't remember drinking so much, Jon." Sake bombs and martinis are a recipe for disaster. Why don't I remember drinking them? I only remember drinking hot sake at dinner and the one vodka martini…
He looked at her, a scrutinizing look on his face. "How much do you remember about last night? I'm very concerned about you not remembering things… I don't like it. You know, there have been recent reports of people getting drugged at bars in Alicante. I wonder if you got dosed? Or both of us? Maybe it was that Vodka Martini... I shouldn't have left you alone– not after what you experienced on Halloween. I'm sorry." Clary looked down, then back up to him.
She reached a hand out and cupped his cheek. He turned his face into her hand and kissed her palm and scooted closer to her. "I'm just glad nothing bad happened, Jon. I'm glad you were there and saw me home safely. As for the rest, I was um— planning to… let things happen between us last night. I just didn't expect things to go all wild animal kingdom, I guess." He hummed and she heard his breath quicken.
He ran his hands gently over her arms and she shivered. He flicked his eyes up to hers, a lustful expression on his face. "These were from me holding your arms when I took you from behind, Clarissa. The ones on your jaw were from when we climaxed together and I pulled your head back to me for a kiss. I'm so sorry I was so rough, Clarissa. I never, ever want to hurt you." Clary swallowed, hugged the pillow against her, and blushed. Jesus…There had been times when Clary had rough sex with her boyfriends, in the past. She actually liked it. She had been bruised and marked before, but had never forgotten it… maybe someone did drug us. She frowned and shuddered. Jonathan again moved closer to her. "Tell me exactly what you remember, Clarissa."
Clary took a deep breath and tried to recall everything she could from the night before. "I remember flying in the helicopter to Alicante and hanging out at Edom. I really enjoyed myself with you. We had sushi and hot sake. Uh, I was definitely buzzed after dinner. Then you had to leave and I went to the bar alone because Axel was being a creep." Jonathan narrowed his eyes and Clary waved her hand dismissively. "Nothing to worry about. I think he likes redheads or something. Ew. Anyway, I remember ordering a vodka martini, then things get spotty after that. There was a dark haired British guy that also ordered a martini. We danced and he got a bit handsy. His name was Will, I think." Jonathan got a serious look on his face. Jealousy? "Then we flew back. I barely remember that. Next, we're in your room, having champagne and looking at my sketches. It gets a lot more spotty after that. All I remember after that is being in the lobby and hugging Valentine. Jesus. Then having sex… lots of sex with you. Then I woke up here, this morning. Umm. Where am I, by the way… and where are my clothes?"
Clary slid out of bed, as Jonathan raked his eyes over her naked body, smiling appreciatively. She felt filthy and self-conscious. She was sticky between her legs, the evidence of Jonathan's virulence caked heavily on her sensitive areas. Inside of her. Caveman. I must look awful. How can he still want me? She took a purple chenille throw from the bed and pulled it around her tightly. She pushed her hair back over her shoulders and secured the wrap under her arms. She looked at Jonathan with her eyebrows lifted expectantly and cleared her throat. "Jon? Where am I? My Clothes?"
Jonathan jerked his head to look at her face and grinned. "Sorry, love. You can't just parade in front of me all naked and glorious and expect me to remain cognizant." He got out of bed, naked and aroused and stalked towards her gesturing around him. Clary bit her lip and concentrated hard on his eyes, not daring to look at the loaded weapon bouncing between his legs. Fuck.
"This room, Clarissa, was your mother's private sanctum. She would come here and paint, draw, recharge, what have you. We've updated it for you, of course. It was supposed to be a surprise. I barely remember bringing you here last night. I guess I ruined the surprise."
He cocked an eyebrow at her and pursed his lips. "Amatis helped decorate it and even had many of your mother's personal items delivered from the vaults." He gestured to three trunks near the wardrobe. "There are also many new clothes and accessories in the wardrobe, all at your disposal. Father is having the rooms down your hall renovated soon, so we thought you could move in here, sort of like your own apartment, if you will. Of course your things will be moved here today." He pulled another throw from the bed and swathed it around his waist, smirking at her attempts to not look at his dick.
Clary hummed, walked around the room, exploring the space, and smiling. She loved the idea of staying in the same room her mother used. She turned and saw the door across the room and walked over to it. I wonder where this room is located. She opened the door and was about to step out into an antechamber when Jonathan suddenly rushed up behind her and wrapped his arms gently around her waist, halting her. "No no, love. We're locked in. I forgot to tell you that this is also a safe room, it's hidden behind a false wall. There are many such rooms in the mansion. Father, as you know, is a very powerful man and unfortunately has made enemies. These rooms are designed for protection, if ever our home is invaded. You need the code to unlock it. Here–" He let go of her and stepped into the antechamber and Clary heard the beep of a code being entered in a keypad.
The far wall of the chamber slid open, revealing a long hallway. Jonathan came back to her at the door, blocking it. Clary frowned and stepped around him into the chamber and walked out into the hallway. It looked familiar, but she didn't remember ever going down this hall. "This is really weird, Jon. I'm not sure I'm comfortable being behind a wall. I want it left open. I can use the door, just like my other room, but no to the wall. I don't want to be locked in, okay?" He hummed. "Of course, Clarissa. Whatever you say."
She turned to look at him and jumped when she saw how close he was to her. He looked down at her with nervous anticipation, like he expected her to bolt. "Jesus, Jon. You act like I'm going to run off or something." She laughed and stepped back around him into her room, walking towards the bathroom. Jonathan jogged to catch up with her. He got behind her, lightly gripping her hips and brushing his pelvis against her backside. "Shower time, love? Would you like company?" He leaned down and nuzzled her neck.
Clary shivered and laughed. "Jon. I'm pretty sure I told you that you broke my vagina last night with your demon penis. If you do join me, no sex. Just washing… I have your ji– you all over me and want a nice lather and to relax. Can you behave?" She turned her head and he caught her mouth with his, lightly biting her bottom lip. "Of course I can, Clarissa. The question is, can you?" She squealed as he scooped her up in his arms and walked into the bathroom. He set her on the counter and held a finger up in front of her, telling her to wait. He pulled a bottle of painkillers out of the cabinet and gave her two, with a glass of water. Why is he waiting on me like this? I can do this shit myself. Why are you letting him? She smiled in thanks and took them, draining the glass and refilling it. She was so thirsty.
Jonathan turned to the giant soaking tub, turned the water on, and plugged it. He poured a bottle of bath oil into the tub and the bathroom filled with the aroma of vanilla and lavender. Clary inhaled deeply and sighed, watching him work. He put body wash, shampoo, conditioner, washcloths and loofas on the bench around the tub. He's so sweet and considerate… and fucking hot. Maybe I have found someone to move on with. Except you still love someone else.
Her smile faded as she thought about Jace. A stab of guilt twisted in her stomach. Why do I feel like I cheated on him? Fuck off, feelings. Jace. Stop it, bitch. Jace… Clary closed her eyes as images of a wooden box, his name on her buzzing phone, running, terrified, "He's going to find me…", crying to him about– then it was gone. What was that shit? Who's "he"? Weird.
She jumped when she felt Jonathan unwrap the throw from her body. He was naked again and obviously aroused. What a hornball. He stroked her thighs and spread her legs with his hands, stepping between them. Reaching behind her, he wrapped his hands in her hair, lowering his lips to hers, whispering into her mouth. "Why are you so far away, Clarissa? You look worried, little love." She tilted her head back and let him kiss her neck, sighing. "It's nothing, Jon. I think I was remembering a bad dream or something. He looked at her with a thoughtful expression on his face. He moved his hands to her hips and pulled her off the counter.
They stepped together into the tub, settling into the hot water. Jonathan sat across from Clary, the bubbles reaching his chiseled pecs. Clary blushed and stared at him, admiring the view. He looked back at her as if he were mentally willing the bubbles covering her chest to dissolve. There was a knock at the bedroom door and Jonathan rolled his eyes. "It's probably the servants, to set up your room and deliver your personal belongings. I'll go get them started. You soak, love… but leave your hair. I want to be the one to wash it. He stepped out of the tub and dried himself off. He then dimmed the lights and pressed a few buttons on a keypad next to the door. Slow, soothing ambient music filled the bathroom.
He turned back to her, smirking, his muscular, tattooed, nude physique on full display, as he pulled a black robe from the closet and slowly slipped it on. Shit, he's hot. Clary's thighs clenched together as she looked him over. Her eyes dropped to his hands as they gripped the robe's belt and tied it tightly around his waist. He turned, picked up the two throws, and exited the bathroom. She frowned. The belt had bothered her, but she didn't know why. She suddenly was no longer in the mood for Jonathan's attempts at seduction. Something's off. Clary furrowed her brows and picked up the shampoo. I can wash my own hair, caveman.
Jonathan strolled out into Clary's room and saw servants stocking her wardrobe with her clothing, filling her kitchen with snacks and beverages, and setting up her easel and supplies, just as ordered. He walked up and picked up her sketchbook, flipping through its pages. My lady is so talented. There were drawings of Morgenstern Manor, her stupid friends from New York, the view of the Idrian horizon from her window, a few of the servants working, his father, Amatis, and several of Jonathan. He smiled. She thinks about me when we're apart. He flipped to the last page, the smile falling from his face. There, staring back at him, was the very detailed face of Jace fucking Herondale. Jonathan felt a jealous fury bubble up and had to force himself to close the sketchbook and set it on her easel, before he shredded the entire book. Of course she would still think about Herondale. They haven't even been finished for a month. Clarissa has such a big heart, she couldn't just turn off her feelings. I have to make sure to immerse her with, well me…
His phone buzzed in his pocket and he sighed and read the text. Father was on his way to "check-up on Clarissa". Of course you are. Jonathan clenched his jaw as he walked over to Clary's wardrobe and stepped inside. He had the servants stock a few outfits for himself inside, in case he stayed over with her. He pulled on boxer briefs, a tight long sleeve t-shirt, and jeans. All black, of course. It was presumptuous of him, of course, to assume she would be okay with that. She had clearly stated she wasn't looking for a serious relationship again, so soon after Herondale. But, he was tired of dancing around things with Clarissa. He would lie, manipulate, and hell, even drug and fuck her into submission… as many times as it takes, to have her completely. He understood his father's relationship with Jocelyn a bit more now. He couldn't bear the thought of Clarissa leaving him. Now that they had finally consummated their union, he would never let her go. Ever.
He stepped back out into the room and saw the servants had vacated, their work finished. They had changed the linens as well. Good. He couldn't wait to ruin them with Clarissa again. She had indicated that she was too sore this morning and didn't wish to have sex. He smiled to himself. My bad. The lavender bath he had run for her would help with that. Sore indeed. He had absolutely pummeled her tight little pussy last night, dragging orgasm after orgasm from her, in so many positions. She had been so affected by the Faerie Nectar that she had let him do whatever he wanted with her… and he had, all over her room. He closed his eyes and hummed, remembering how delicious she had felt wrapped around his cock…how tight and wet she had been… how reactive to his touch.
Jonathan turned when there was a short knock on the door. Before he could walk over to open it, his father walked into the room. Interesting. Valentine wore gray dress pants and a wine colored v-neck sweater, his sleeves pushed up, showing off a bit of chest hair and his muscular forearms. Jonathan inhaled. And he's wearing cologne. Very interesting. Valentine leveled a look at Jonathan. "Where is our sweet Clarissa, this morning, son?" He walked past Jonathan up to Clarissa's work table and flipped through her sketchbook, humming in approval. "So gifted… like her mother." They both looked over to the bathroom door, when they heard the hairdryer turn on. Good, she wouldn't be able to hear them.
Jonathan sighed heavily. Dammit. I wanted her to wait for me to wash her hair… and other things. "Obviously she's in the en suite, making herself pretty for me… as if she needs to. It seems she doesn't remember much about last night… at least nothing I don't want her to remember. She does remember meeting and dancing with the agent, but only knows his first name, Will, nothing about who he is. As far as she knows, we had a date, got too drunk and came back… and, well, you know. Although I may have convinced her we possibly partook of tampered drinks. I had to somehow rationalize her spotty memory and how… heated things got between us last night." Jonathan smirked in satisfaction when he saw his father stiffen. You are jealous. I knew it. "How about you, father? Do you have any more information, perhaps from our honored guest? I'm sure you're here for something other than to be regaled with stories of the many ways I pleasured my Clarissa."
Valentine cleared his throat and cut his eyes to his son and leaned against the work table, crossing his arms. "Indeed. Yes, actually, I do. Once I was able to get her to wake up from the beating she received, that is. The medical team was needed to patch her up, give her IV fluids, and painkillers. You shouldn't have beaten her so badly. Getting her to a decent level of consciousness wasted a lot of precious time."
Jonathan rolled his eyes and hummed. "I didn't touch her, father… and you should see the hurt she put on poor Emil… nearly broke his arm. He's always been a little scared of Amatis. She did put up quite a fight, though. She's rather impressive. Axel was able to knock her unconscious and we brought her here, as instructed. I'm assuming she's below ground, in your special guest quarters? What were you able to get out of her and when do I get to kill her?" Clary's hair dryer still ran inside the bathroom and Jonathan smiled pleasantly.
Valentine stood up straight and walked closer to Jonathan, clenching his teeth. "She told me that Jace Herondale is on his way to Idris to take Clarissa from us… his cousin, William Herondale contacted him and arranged it. Apparently, they think they can." Jonathan growled and clenched his fists. The fuck they are. Valentine nodded and continued. "Amatis made some sort of fucking deal to betray us to the authorities, if they give her immunity from prosecution and rescue Clarissa from us. Nothing's set yet, pending Clarissa's retrieval. The traitorous bitch hasn't given a legal affidavit yet. As for killing her…we wait on that a bit. I want her healed first, good as new. Then I want every traitor bone in her body broken before we kill her. As for the Herondale boys. There is another blizzard hitting today, as you can see. It's going to be even worse than the last one. As such, they won't be able to get near the manor for at least a week. They have barely finished cleanup from the last storm, so plenty of time to prepare for new visitors."
Jonathan smiled and nodded coldly at his father. "Speaking of the Herondales? Do I finally get to kill Jace fucking Herondale, father?" Clary's hair dryer turned off in the bathroom. Valentine looked hard at his son and nodded. Jonathan smirked. Clarissa is mine and will stay that way, Herondale. Game on.