We entered the dining room where the four shadowhunters and my father sat at the long rectangular table. My dad, as usual, took the head with an empty chair on either side of him. He looked between me and Raihn with clear apprehension, then gave me a subtle nod to a chair beside him. I resisted a sigh as I sat and stared down at my plate.

Raihn took the chair on the other side of Hodge across from me, I tried hard not to look up at the pair of dark eyes I could've sworn were watching. The other shadowhunters looked at the smug new stranger with raised eyebrows.

Hodge cleared his throat. "Everyone, this is Raihn. He'll be staying with us for a few days–"

"Actually," Raihn interrupted, leaning back in his chair and lacing his hands behind his head, "I think I'll stay a bit longer; check out New York, catch up on the drama up here."

Hodge gave him an incredulous stare but it was Isabelle that spoke from the chair next to Raihn. "Up here?"

Raihn gave her a smirk. "Figure of speech, doll."

Isabelle gave a sickly sweet smile and leaned closer in sudden interest, twisting the end of her ponytail the way she did with every new male that strolled past her vision. I forced my face to refrain from displaying…some kind of emotion I wasn't able to decipher. Instead, I watched the small pile of noodles get pushed around my plate by my fork, my appetite continuing to evade me like it had for the last week.

"He's from the Institute of Ireland," I said, propping my cheek on my fist in boredom. Dinner couldn't end soon enough, especially now that I had to have a front row seat to their snog-fest.

"Ireland? I've never been. What's it like?" she asked, scooting an inch closer. Eyebrows raised around the table, all knowing damn well that Isabelle has been to Ireland several times to visit a long distance boytoy in the past.

He scanned her proximity with a raised eyebrow. "Green."

Green, what was once a color I had neutral feelings about, had been twisted into something that turned my insides—the last color I had seen as I lay dying on the hills of Alicante with my entrails nearly strewn around me. The Abaddon that attempted to take my life turned to a pile of ash beside me, the burned flakes blowing between the tendrils of grass.

My stomach lurched and I dropped my fork, cutting off the babble around the table. "Excuse me," I mumbled, wiping my palms on my shirt and standing from my seat with shaking legs.

"Mazikeen—" my father started but I was halfway out the dining room before he could finish.

The next morning was not something I was ready to come face to face with, especially since the wakeup call at my door was nothing short of migraine inducing. The loud cracks of knuckles against the wood felt like individual splinters driving their way into the soft tissue of my brain. With a groan of discontent, I rolled from my bed and hobbled as best I could to the door, my calves screaming in protest from their long night of dancing in precarious heels.

Another wave of knocking spiked my already hot temper. "What—" I stopped short when I saw the broad figured man standing an inch from my door frame.

His gaze traveled slowly down then back up with a raised eyebrow. "Somebody had a rough night."

I looked down at myself and grimaced. Silver glitter coated my flesh, flaking off like dried paint onto the floor with each movement. My black skirt was hiked high on my thighs and my red top was askew on my shoulders, exposing more of my cleavage than it was intended to from blacking out onto my bed at 3am. I tugged my skirt down with one hand and splayed the other over my chest, my face just about as red as my top.

"What do you want at this Angel-forsaken hour?" I hissed.

"It's 10am, lamb."

My stomach twisted as I stared dumbly at his smug expression. "I…So? I was sleeping."

He leaned against the doorframe, further hovering above me. "I'm handling training today. Get ready."

"You?" I raised a harsh brow. "Where's Hodge?"

"Hodge thought it would be beneficial for me to teach you Nephilim what I know."

I stepped closer and attempted to give him a sharp look. "Did he really? Or did you intimidate him into stepping down?"

He chuckled. "I can usually get what I want."

Memories from last night's dinner replayed in my head, the way Isabelle practically threw herself at him without a second thought, and how he had seemed to reciprocate. That made me wonder if they had spent time together after dinner as well. For some unfathomable reason, that made my body hot with anger. "Get out of my doorway," I demanded through clenched teeth.

"Are you gonna make me?" His face got serious. "A little lamb like you? Why don't you show me what you're capable of in the training room?"

"Stop calling me a lamb, it's weird." I looked him up and down. "You're wearing a long sleeve to training? And what about your shoulder?"

His eyes narrowed slightly in amusement. "You're small and your hair is white like a newborn lamb, it's admirable." He reached for a lock of hair, but I caught his wrist and tugged on his sleeve with a questioning look. He rolled his eyes. "I enjoy long sleeves and my shoulder is fine."

But, I wasn't listening to his response, because the hand that gripped his wrist felt hot, like his bones were made of flame that radiated out of his skin into mine. The bones in my hand felt warm, breaking the seemingly endless cycle of cold I had been feeling for a week now. It was an inviting feeling, almost tempting me to pull the rest of him into my body—

He snatched his hand away and tucked both into the pockets of his sweatpants. Despite the cool and collected expression he wore, something behind his eyes told me otherwise, like a shed of light managed to escape his darkened interior and it rattled him.

I shook my head and cleared my throat, disregarding the idea and convincing myself that the sensation in my hand had been my imagination as I was back to feeling cold like it never happened. "Okay, just—give me a minute to get ready," I found myself avoiding his gaze.

"Sure," he answered, sounding breathless to my ears. When I looked up to confirm, he was already halfway down the hall.

I closed the door and sagged against it, willing the foggy part of my head from the long night of substances to clear. My stomach growled but my appetite was nonexistent, another side effect of the overindulgence.

After a forced shower and dressing into a fitted t-shirt and the same shorts from yesterday, I marched my hungover ass to Clary's door. Two knocks was all it took for her to greet me through the opening. She was dressed in her training clothes but her red hair was wild around her face as if it had been disturbed in a scuffle.

"Uh, hey, Mazikeen," she said in a rush and tried to close the door a bit more but failed. A quick, and regretful, glance behind her told me exactly why her hair was a mess—and her shirt was inside out. Jace had just finished tying the lace of his sweatpants as he shot me a smug smirk over Clary's head. She noticed, and turned red.

I raised my palm and closed my eyes. "I don't wanna know," I opened my eyes again, focusing on the small woman in front of me, "Can you draw me a couple runes?"

She looked taken aback. "I—yes, sure. What do you need?" She invited me inside and kicked Jace out the door, much to his dismay.

I plopped on the bed, rubbing my hands over my face. "I'm gonna need your full effort here. I can't eat, I've tried but I can't stomach it. I can't sleep, either. So maybe one nutrition and one…I don't know, caffeine?"

"I can do nutrition, no problem," she kneeled on the floor beside my thigh with her stele in hand and started drawing. "But maybe you can't sleep because…you're out all night?" She was trying to be sensitive about the subject. I appreciated Clary, and unlike the lightwoods and Jace, she didn't ride my ass so hard about my habits—but she did still bring them into consideration at times, which I didn't appreciate.

I sighed through the burning trails she left with each swirl. "I know."

"I can give you an energy rune, but I'm not guaranteeing it will work everyday as a sleep replacement. Our runes are only as strong as our bodies." She offered me a pitying smile. I tried hard not to take it personally.

"I just need to get through the day, then I'll sleep tonight, I swear." The words felt empty, like an addict promising that this hit is the last before they're done. I suppose that's exactly what I am and what I'm doing.

It seemed like she had the same idea, but nodded anyway and finished both runes. Each one sat above my knee and when I stood, I felt like I had snorted a line of coke and my stomach had stopped begging me for sustenance.

I felt great.

"Thank you," I said and let my muscles relax. I hadn't realized how much tension I was holding in my shoulders from sleepless nights and food deprivation. Though, I knew I would be right back to feeling broken and decrepit tonight when the runes wear off.

In the training room, Raihn stood in the center of the mat surrounded by the other Shadowhunters and myself. He paced the circle and surveyed each of us, as if he could see our weaknesses and strengths like they were written in ink.

"So," he started, "who here is the best at hand-to-hand combat?"

We all spoke different things in unison—

"Jace," I said.

"Me," Jace claimed.

"Mazikeen," Alec, Isabelle, and Clary retorted.

I grimaced and looked at each of them. There was no chance in Hell I was the best at anything. At least, not that I knew of. Alec was excellent with his bow, Isabelle with her whip and gymnastic ability, Jace could kill just about anything with a sword, and Clary has dissolved ships and created runes from her mind.

I wasn't good at anything.

Raihn looked at me with a type of smugness, maybe slight pride that the claims made by the others had surprised him. "Step into the circle," he ordered with a gesture of invitation.

I crossed my arms over my chest. "Pass."

"Either you come to me, or I'll come to you," he threatened.

A smirk tipped my lips. "Horrible choice of words."

Of course, I didn't win against Raihn. As I lay on the mat after a particularly painful body slam, I tried to inhale a breath and failed. It didn't help that the tree trunk himself was still on top of me, compressing my lungs. A sudden rush of air inflated my chest and a cough knocked some sense back into me.

He hovered above me, his hands flat against the floor on either side of my head and a satisfied look across his face. "You're better than I thought."

I stared at him incredulously. "You're not even breaking a sweat, while I'm the one flattened to the floor."

"Yeah," he half shrugged, "but nobody can beat me."

A sudden warmth made me hyper aware of our positioning. He still braced over me, but when I looked down, his hips were nestled between my thighs. The warmth of his torso bled into my skin to my bones like his touch had earlier. It seemed he noticed it just as I had, as his eyes flew wide and he scrambled off of me. The loss of warmth once more felt like I had been baptized in a cold bucket of ice water.

He left me to pick myself off the mat, bringing his attention to the other Nephilim of the party. Some had raised eyebrows in bewilderment and others avoided our eyes.

Angel, was that entire session that much of a disappointment that they couldn't look at me? I wanted to bury my head in my hands but resisted the urge and got back in line.

After Raihn had tormented each Shadowhunter accordingly, he sent us off to do our own workouts while he supervised. I was embarrassed enough, so I opted for the treadmill.

Running has always been blissful. A beautiful escape that felt like flying.

Until that day in the fields. I had ran as fast as I could, expelled every last bit of energy I had to outrun Abbadon. But I wasn't fast enough. Even with the werewolf I was tethered to, I wasn't fast enough. While in its clutches, I tried desperately to find solid ground, to gain traction, to run far away and find my father. It wasn't until I felt every muscle fiber in my belly become severed that I stopped trying, stopped moving, stopped expecting help to arrive.

"Mazikeen," the whisper of a deep voice broke me from the awful memory. "Slow down." Beside me, Raihn stared with furrowed brows, the motion crinkling the scar through his eyebrow.

I looked down and all at once felt my legs buckle under myself. As my body braced itself to hit the running belt of the treadmill, the air was squeezed from my gut by a thick coiled arm and my back was pulled into his hard chest. I desperately gulped down breaths like I had just resurfaced from nearly drowning.

I pushed him from me. When I looked up, none of the Shadowhunters were looking, thank the Angel.

"Why did you stop me?" Despite my tone, I was grateful. Not only because he had pulled me from a flashback but also because I most definitely was not in the headspace to get back into running so soon, despite what my instincts told me to do.

"You were crying," he said in a low whisper. "What's wrong?"

My face reddened and my skin grew clammy with embarrassment. "Nothing is wrong," I answered without conviction. But part of me wanted to talk about it, get the weight of the truth off my chest. All I could manage revealing was a fraction of my internal pressure. "I just wasn't ready to train again after…everything."

"Do you want to try something else?" he asked. His face was soft, almost vulnerable as if he had found an injured puppy and wanted to care for it.

I resented that.

"No," I grit, feeling my chest concave from the hole where my heart used to be. "I'm fine."

The warm, pitiful expression turned cold. "I don't think you are."

A step brought me closer to his face with a sneer. "And who are you to tell me otherwise?" He only stared back, fighting an inner battle behind his eyes as if he couldn't decide if he wanted to fight me or let me go.

I didn't give him the choice. Turning on a heel, I left the training room and Raihn behind.

The place made me sick to my stomach. So much time spent honing my ability to fight for my life, only for none of it to matter. The false sense of security I felt during training every day in the past makes me feel like a goddamn idiot now. Nothing I could have done would've prepared me to go head-to-head with Abaddon—no amount of training, magic, or werewolf allies.

My skin was boiling from the untreated anger that has plagued me since that day. There was only one way to get rid of it, but the club was closed during the day. I had no faerie connections, and they didn't exactly sell fae drugs at convenience stores.

I thumped my forehead against my door in the hallway, trying to decide if I wanted to sneak off to the Seelie court for drugs or stay and try to endure the day until the night. The Seelie Court was, for all intents and purposes, off limits to Shadowhunters. The fae are extremely territorial, and I wasn't desperate enough to get in a scuffle with the entirety of the Fair Folk or get stuck down there forever from taking the wrong substance.

Defeated and frustrated, I turned to leave, but ran right into an already familiar chest face first. My nose stung and I blinked a few times.

Raihn looked down at me with a smirk but his eyes didn't mirror the same smug expression. "Where are you off to?"

"Leave me alone, Raihn," I replied, already exhausted from his presence and the energy rune wearing off. I tried to push past him but he caught my arm.

"I have something for you," he whispered and held up a small joint between us.

I stared dumbly at it, my mouth agape in surprise like a fish. "Why?"

"I don't know what you're going through but I know that it torments you. I'm hoping this will give you some sort of relief." He grabbed my hand and placed it in my palm.

Just then, my vision started to wobble and distort like it had yesterday. The wallpaper became bright and clean once again as well as the run of carpet beneath us. When I looked up at Raihn, he was wearing different clothes. Instead of his long sleeves and sweatpants he wore a short sleeve that displayed tan, markless arms, and jeans. But the most startling thing that made me question my sanity was his scar, it was gone. Smooth tanned skin took the place of the scraggly silver line across his face. Instead of the stony look that usually seemed cemented on his face when he looked at me, it was now softer and gentle, but not full of pity or sympathy.

I can only compare it to…longing.

"You shouldn't be here," a giggling voice that sounded like mine but wasn't, muffled through my ears like I was underwater.

His unmarked face beamed a white smile, one that transformed his features from longing to pure joy. "How could I stay away?" he replied.

I blinked a few times, bringing me back to the reality I knew. The scar on Raihn's face was back in place, as well as his signature scowl and familiar attire. Concern swept over me. What was that? Before, when it was just me, I was able to write it off. But Raihn was there this time, appearing different, acting different. And the sound of my voice that spoke without my permission only complicated any possible explanation.

"What was that?" Raihn chimed suddenly, almost making my distracted nerves jump. He was watching me and holding his hands close to my side as if he expected me to topple over.

"I…What?" It was a weak response, but I didn't know any more than he did.

A strange look crossed over his face, like an idea lit up the lightbulb in his brain. "Did you see something?"

Tension rippled through my muscular system. "No," I lied rather quickly, like the snap of a whip. Something, everything, and nothing all at once felt foreign and strange.

He didn't look convinced but didn't stop me as I took a step back.

"Thank you for this," I said in a rush and held up the joint in my fingers. I didn't wait for him to respond before I sped off down the hallway.

My chest felt heavy. It was the same abysmal feeling of losing a beloved pet, family member, or friend. The easiest way I could describe it would be heartbreak…or longing.

Why would a feeling like that suddenly burden me?