Forgetting the Past

Chapter Eighteen: Duties and Desires

Despite the winding and countless hallways, Clary devoted herself to memorizing the maze. If she knew its pattern, it could mean the difference between escape and eternal imprisonment. If there was any chance of escape.
Seeing as she didn't have any better alternative, Clary let her brother drag her through the tangle of corridors.
Eventually they came to a huge set of French doors carved out of black stone. Is everything here made out of stone? Clary wondered.
"Yes," Sebastian said lightly, as if he had read her thoughts. "Its traditional."
"How did you-?" She began to ask, but then realized he had been in her head again. "I'd appreciated it you stayed the hell out of my mind, thank you very much."
"Too bad, little sister. I won't do that, not unless you make an agreement with me. And you'll like that even less than my looking into your thoughts."
She thought about his comment for a moment as they stood in front of the doorway. "What's the deal?" She finally asked.
"I'll stay out of your mind if you give me what I want," he said, as if it were a totally simple concept.
"And what is it that you want?" She asked cautiously.
He raised one eyebrow and said quietly, "I think you already know, Clarissa."
Just to emphasize his motives, he slid a hand over her waist and drew her toward him. She flinched, squirming away from his touch. His hand fell back to his side. "No way," she said, fearing that her voice was shaking. "There's no way I'll do that. No way in hell."
Sebastian sighed. "Resisting now will only lead me to force you into it later, you know that."
She shuddered at the thought. "I don't understand why you want this from me."
He laughed softly, almost in a grim way. "Isn't it obvious, sister? I've never met someone like you, someone quite as... talented. Sure, there are girls who are better in bed, but I only want you." As he said it, his hand slipped back around her waist and she began to feel the fog clouding her mind. Don't loose control, she told herself.
"Why?" She croaked out. "Why me?"
"Precisely because you don't realize the kind of power you could have if you used it," he explained, "and because you're a challenge. Always out of reach. And that intrigues me," he said in a low voice. She shivered.
Focus. Stay controlled. But she was controlled; she felt him taking control of her.
Sebastian's fingers edged up toward her ribcage, rucking up her T-shirt in the process. Her breath hitched, drawing a devious smile from Sebastian. He pulled her closely, pressing her body to his. She willed her lungs to slow down, but they wouldn't obey.
He hunched his shoulders over her, their foreheads nearly touching as his finger from the opposite hand drew a path up her thigh. Clary found her eyes glued to his face, studying the chiseled features...
By sheer will she snapped out of it and flew backwards. "No. Way. Get out of my head."
He gave her an icy glare. "Have it your way, sister. But I'm only saving myself for later tonight."
She cringed inwardly at the thought, but there was a new hope taking root in her mind. I'm getting better at resisting him; maybe I can pull away completely. It was worth a shot at least.

"Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope. I will NOT wear this."
She held out the dark red garment in front of her as if it carried some terrible disease.
"Either you put it on, or I put it on for you," Sebastian offered with a sinister grin. She knew which option he preferred, and trudged off to the bathroom.
It was much like the other underground spaces, with dark stone walls and a florescent light with no apparent source. The bathtub was carved out of black and white marble, with a matching vanity. A mirror was above the sink, reflecting her image.
Nothing was particularly notable about herself, except for the wild hair that had not been brushed in days. If course, Clary had tried to comb it through with her fingers, but that only got her so far.
She slipped off her boots, socks, jeans, and t-shirt, groaning inwardly as she realized the dress was meant to be worn without a bra; it had one built in. Plus, the straps would show.
She took her own off, stepping into the thin dress and pulling it up over her legs. It was a challenge to get it over her hips, but she finally did with a bit of squirming and dancing. She slid the spaghetti straps up on her shoulders and yanked up the zipper.
The dress was silk, two thin layers of it. It had a low cut back and deep V-shaped neckline. As if all that weren't bad enough, it barely came mid-thigh when she yanked it down. And when she did that, it only exposed more of her chest.
Pulling open a few of the vanity's drawers, she found a hairbrush and yanked it through her snarls until they fell in smooth waves over her shoulders. There was no lip gloss to be had, but that was fine with her. Clary didn't exactly want her lips to look more desirable to Sebastian.
She sighed, pulling down the dress once more, and opened the bathroom door.
Sebastian was there, leaning against one of the dark wooden bedposts as he waited for her. His head turned when the door swung open, and she could see his charcoal eyes darken as they raked over her figure. His look was predatory, and besides the dress fitting her like a second skin, she felt extremely uncomfortable under his gaze.
"You look... nice," Sebastian said lazily, but she had a feeling he meant it as an understatement.
"I look like a slut. Give me some real clothes," she demanded irritably.
"If you need some help with confidence issues..." He began. "Because there's nothing about that," he looked her body up and down once more for effect, "you shouldn't be confident about."
Clary would have gagged, but a sweet mist was clogging her thoughts. Resist him, don't let him take control of you, she commanded herself. The pull became stronger. Don't... Give in...
Too late.
She suddenly felt mildly confused. Why had she felt awkward? It was only Sebastian. Besides, she did look good in this dress.
He smirked at her triumphantly. "Ready to go, sister?"
"Do you have any perfume? Oh, and I'll need shoes."
He smiled. "I don't usually make a habit of wearing ladies' perfume, but I do keep some on hand. It's in the third drawer on the right," he told her, jerking his head toward the bathroom. "I'll grab you some shoes."
She went into the bathroom, finding the bottle of perfume easily. She spritzed on a few sprays, then wondered if that was too much, then put on a little more. Locating a tube of lip gloss, she slathered on some of that as well.
Clary returned to the bedroom, seeing Sebastian come out of the closet with a pair of gold flats in hand.
"Do you have any heels?" She asked.
He looked pleased by the suggestion. "Be right back," and he disappeared back into the walk in closet.
A moment later he produced a pair of sky-high stilettos. She slipped on the black heels, feeling taller and more important somehow. Her brother looked at her strangely and she wondered why. He'd seen her in heels before, hadn't he?
"Let's go," she said, and they did.
As they walked down the corridors, the shoes made a satisfying click, click, click against the floor. Sebastian slid a hand onto the small of her back, letting his hand roam lower. Naughty, naughty boy, she thought to herself with a mental giggle.
Eventually they reached a set of tall double doors. Sebastian put up an open hand and they swung wide, revealing a huge room.
Clary couldn't see where it ended. It kept going further back without a visible back wall. The sides, however, had dark walls with multiple caves that tunneled back into darkness. The ceiling was nowhere in sight; only more blackness.
Somehow, though, the area was lit. Below the platform that the doors opened onto were countless demons. They were in all shapes, sizes and colors. A chorus of hisses and barks rang out, which Clary assumed was a greeting.
The platform itself was adorned with only two thrones and a speaking podium. The seats were identical in shape, but opposites in every other aspect. One was all black, set in with the bleach-white bones of humans, and the other was white stone glittering with clear crystals. The golden feathers of angels' wings were all over the surface of it.
After escorting her to the lighter throne, Sebastian stepped up to the podium and began speaking in the most common demonic language. She shouldn't have understood his words, but she did; he was talking about invasions on earth. Soon it became dull, though, and Clary let her mind wander. Why did this feel familiar? Had she been here before? No, Sebastian had never brought her here before. This was the first time.
Her thoughts were pulled toward him now. Sebastian talked at the podium, speaking to the demons with such zeal and power. His posture was excellent, and she watched as he would lean over the stand and gesture passionately about destruction. Not even the semi-fitting suit he wore could conceal his athletic figure.
Eventually he wrapped up the speech, and the cavernous space was filled with the clapping of tentacles, fins, and various other appendages. Sebastian stepped back, helping Clary up from her chair, and walked her back through the way they had entered.
With Clary's hand in his, Sebastian strode quickly down the hall. The giant doors barely had time to slam closed behind them before the two rounded the first corner.
Unlike before, Clary had difficulty keeping up with him. He was hurrying faster than her short legs could carry her, and he wasn't looking back either.
Clary planted her feet into the ground, yanking him by his hand so that he whirled to face her, surprised. "What's the rush for?" She asked irritably.
For a moment Sebastian just looked at her, then he gave her the hint of a smile. "Yes, what is the rush for?"
For an awkward moment on Clary's part, he silently grinned at her. But suddenly he stepped forward to press himself to her, wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting her to crush her lips up to his. She reached her arms up around his shoulders, pulling her body closer to his.
He moved his hands down across her hips, and bending down, lifted her by her thighs. Clary wrapped her legs around his torso and locked her ankles behind his waist. He stepped forward, slamming her back against the wall with an exhilarating rush of pain. He dragged kisses down her neck and along her collar bone as she ran her fingers through his hair. Clary pulled at the fine, light locks so hard it must have hurt.
Sebastian spun around, scraping Clary's back against the semi-rough surface of the wall and making her gasp. He began and to stride toward their bedroom, kissing her fervently and finally burying his face in the crook of her neck. She took the opportunity to catch her breath, still holding tighty onto his hair and firmly holding herself up with her legs.
Once through the doors, Sebastian kicked them closed with a deafening bang and laid Clary on the bed. He stood up, unbuttoning his suit coat and shrugging it off before he leapt onto the mattress as well.
They kissed. They kissed while she unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it off of his shoulders. They kissed while he attempted to unzip Clary's dress but instead ended up tearing it at the seams and leaving it in tatters on her body. They kissed while her fingers moved over cold, smooth skin, coming to the V-shaped bones at his hips.
She ran her fingertips along the indentations, causing Sebastian to grip her thigh and torso hard. She thought she heard a crack, and in the heat of the moment, whispered his name. He groaned deep in his throat, and in a distracted moment, let her mind clear of the suffocating fog.
He continued trailing kisses down her neck, unaware that his grip on her mind had vanished. Clary brought her knee up hard where she knew it would hurt most, and he took in a sharp breath. Doubling over, he rolled to the other side of the bed and gave Clary enough room for escape.
She jumped to her feet, the tile floor so cold it began to numb her toes on contact. "What the hell Sebastian?"
He gave her a look of pure rage. "When will you learn to obey me, sister?" He bellowed, sitting up. "You belong to me, and I will have you in any way that I wish!"
"No!" Clary countered. "I'm not yours, I'm not anybody's, and I never will be! You can't control me like that! I won't let you!" And with that, she bolted into the closet.
Slamming the door behind her, Clary fumbled with the lock as an onslaught of tears found their escape. When the bolt had finally clicked into place, she fell with her back against the door and slid down to the ground.
Clary didn't remember how long she sobbed. She could only recall bits and pieces of the thoughts that nagged her on. What if it had gone too far? What if Jace found out about what they had done? Had she really enjoyed that? What about-
She choked on the thought. What about the baby? A fresh wave of tears wet her face.
If Sebastian found out about the baby she was having with Jace, so many bad things could happen. He could turn into a raging monster. He could hurt the baby. He might even try to experiment on it like Valentine did to his children.
Clary stopped the flood of tears and tried to steady her stuttering breaths. Relax, she told herself. Calm down. You'll find a way out of here.
But would she? Or would she be stuck in yet another personal hell for the rest of her life? For the rest of eternity? Her heart lurched at the thought and she pushed it away. She was in no condition to deal with that right now.
Her condition. She tried to asses herself the best she could. Every breath was like a new stab wound to her torso. The pain was in the bottom right side of her ribcage, so she guessed she had broken ribs. Pulling back the dress gingerly, she saw dark bruises on her thighs like his fingerprints. And there was the fact that her whole back was skinned and felt like it was burning. Her lips felt like they had gone through a dull set of hedge clippers, to put the cherry on top of the whole shebang.
Blinking away the lingering tears, she saw that the closet had racks of clothes hung on both sides, shoe racks, and twin wardrobes at the far end. She struggled to her feet, her entire body protesting, and stumbled toward the wardrobes.
Opening a drawer, she found skimpy lingerie in many different styles and colors. With a disgusted expression, she opened the next drawer to find more realistic and comfy clothes. Pulling off the tatters of fabric that were formerly a dress, she slipped on some sweatpants and a T-shirt as carefully as she could. Then, wadding up a sweatshirt, she curled up on the ground. Clary laid on her stomach, to try and protect her back from getting any more damaged, and fell asleep quickly.