Jace and Clary: The First Almost
Jace: You know what I am. I'm part demon, Clary. Part demon. You understood that much, didn't you? You saw what Valentine was trying to do. He used demon blood--used it on me before I was even born. I'm part monster. Part everything I've tried so hard to burn out, to destroy.
Clary: But warlocks are part demon. Like Magnus. It doesn't make them evil--
Jace: Not part Greater Demon. You heard what that woman said.
"It will burn out his humanity, as poison burns the life from the blood."
Clary: It's not true. It can't be. It doesn't make sense--
Jace: But it does. It explains everything.
Clary: You mean, it explains why you're such an amazing Shadowhunter? Why you're loyal and fearless and honest and everything demons aren't?
Jace: It explains why I feel the way I do about you.
He was silent for a long moment, staring at her across the tiny space that separated them. She could feel him, even though he wasn't touching her, as if he still lay with his body against hers.
Jace: You're my sister. My sister, my blood, my family. I should want to protect you--to protect you from the sort of boys who want to do with you exactly what I want to do.
Clary: You said you just wanted to be my brother from now on.
Jace: I lied. Demons lie, Clary. You know, there are some kinds of wounds you can get when you're a Shadowhunter--internal injuries from demon poison. You don't even know what's wrong with you, but you're bleeding to death slowly inside. That's what it's like, just being your brother.
Jace: I had to try. And I did. But God knows, I don't want anyone but you. I don't even want to want anyone but you.
He reached out, trailed his fingers lightly through her hair, fingertips brushing her cheek.
Jace: Now at least I know why.
Clary's voice had sunk to a whisper.
Clary: I don't want anyone but you, either.
He let his fingers trail down her cheek to her lips, outlining the shape of her mouth with the tip of a finger.
Jace: You should probably tell me not to do this.
She said nothing. She didn't want to tell him to stop. She was tired of saying no to Jace--of never letting herself feel what her whole heart wanted her to feel. Whatever the cost.
He bent down, his lips against he cheek, brushing it lightly--and still that light touch sent shivers through her nerves, shivers that made her whole body tremble.
Jace: If you want me to stop, tell me now.
When she still said nothing, he brushed his mouth against the hollow of her temple.
He traced the line of her cheekbone.
His lips were against hers.
But she had reached up and pulled him down to her, and the rest of his words were lost against her mouth. He kissed her gently, carefully, but it wasn't gentleness she wanted, not now, not after all this time, and she knotted her fists in his shirt, pulling him harder against her. He groaned softly, low in his throat, and then his arms circled her, gathering her against him, and they rolled over on the grass, tangled together, still kissing. There were rocks digging into Clary's back, and her shoulder ached where she'd fallen from the window, but she didn't care. All that existed was Jace; all she felt, hoped, breathed, wanted, and saw was Jace. Nothing else mattered.
Despite her coat, she could feel the heat of him burning through his clothes and hers. She tugged his jacket off, and then somehow his shirt was off, too. Her fingers explored his body as his mouth explored hers; soft skin over lean muscle, scars like thin wires. She touched the star-shaped scar on his shoulder--it was smooth and flat, as if it were a part of his skin, not raised like his other scars. She supposed they were imperfections, these marks, but they didn't feel that way to her; they were a history, cut into his body; the map of a life of endless war.
He fumbled with the buttons of he coat, his hands shaking. She didn't think she'd ever seen Jace's hands unsteady before.
Jace: What is it? Did I hurt you?
She touched the silver chain around his neck. On its end hung a small silver circle of metal. It had bumped against her when she'd leaned forward. She stared at it now.
Jace: I'm sorry. I forgot I was wearing the damn thing.
Sudden cold flooded Clary's veins.
Clary: Jace. Jace, don't.
Jace: Don't what? Don't wear the ring?
Clary: No, don't--don't touch me. Stop for a second.
Clary: Jace, why? Why now?
Clary: You said there was nothing between us. That if we--if we let ourselves feel what we might want to feel, we'd be hurting everyone we care about.
Jace: I told you. I was lying. You think I don't want to--?
Clary: No. No, I'm not stupid, I know that you do. But when you said that now you finally understand why you feel this way about me, what did you mean?
Jace: You remember what I said to you at the Penhallows' house? That you never think about what you do before you do it, and that's why you wreck everything you touch?
Clary: No, I'd forgotten that. Thanks for the reminder.
Jace: I wasn't talking about you, Clary. I was talking about me. That's what I'm like. At least now I know why. I know what's wrong with me. And maybe--maybe that's why I need you so much. Because if Valentine made me a monster, then I suppose he made you a sort of angel. And Lucifer loved God, didn't he? So says Milton, anyway.
Clary: I'm not an Angel. And you don't even know that that's what Valentine used Ithuriel's blood for--maybe Valentine just wanted it for himself--
Jace: He said the blood was for me and mine. It explains why you can do what you can do, Clary. The Seelie Queen said we were both experiments. Not just me.
Clary: I'm not an angel, Jace. I don't return library books. I steal illegal music off the Internet. I lie to my mom. I am completely ordinary.
Jace: Not to me. Clary, I--
Clary: You heard me. And leave my hands alone.
