In Paris One Could Have

He Was A Vampire Now. He Was Supposed To Have Eternity. But What He Had Was Days.

When I Think Of You, And You Are Not There, I See You In My Mind's Eye Always With A Book In Your Hand.

Clary: "aren't They Supposed To Be Hiring Someone Else To Train Me Full-time Anyway?"

She Opened Her Mouth To Answer, But He Was Already Kissing Her. She Had Kissed Him So Many Times—soft Gentle Kisses, Hard And Desperate Ones, Brief Brushes Of The Lips That Said Good-bye, And Kisses That Seemed To Go On For Hours—and This Was No Different. The Way The Memory Of Someone Who Had Once Lived In A House Might Linger Even After They Were Gone, Like A Sort Of Psychic Imprint, Her Body Remembered Jace. Remembered The Way He Tasted, The Slant Of His Mouth Over Hers, His Scars Under Her Fingers, The Shape Of His Body Under Her Hands.

He Glanced Furtively Up And Down The Hallway. "hodge Too. Everyone Wants To Talk To Me. Except You, I Bet You Don't Want To Talk To Me," Said Jace. "no," Said Clary. "i Want To Eat. I'm Starving.