Lost || Jace Herondale

FIFTEEN

Magnus' heart shattered. "I'm so sorry little bird, I didn't know. I didn't know what he was doing to you. If I did - I would've -"

"It's not your fault Magnus." I reassured. 

"I'm going to set this right. That man is never going to touch you again. I'm calling Luke."

"The werewolf?" Alec asked in confusion. 

"He will arrest Elijah and bring him here. The clave can take it from there and I'm sure Imogen will deal a just punishment for his crime of harming an angel." Alec hardly recognised the venom that twisted around Magnus' words.

"Please, I don't-" I began to beg before Jace cut me off. 

"You're coming with me," he had already gently but firmly grasped my wrist in his and was pulling me to a stand. "I'm going to get you cleaned up and healed properly. You're staying with me tonight. And Elijah is never coming near you again. Understand?"

All I could do was nod as Jace led me to his bedroom. 

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He once again sat me on his bathroom counter and pulled his stele out to heal my fractured ribs. The burn from the iratze was faint and dull compared to the first time it melted into my skin. Perhaps it was my angel blood coming to light. Or perhaps it was because the pain of my ribs and shoulder was far worse. 

Jace pressed his lips to my forehead as the rune mended my ribs until there was only a faint bruise discolouring my skin. He leaned over the bathtub and turned the shower on. The action and sound of water plummeting onto the ceramic caused my body to involuntarily jolt to a stand and almost bolt to the door. 

Jace pulled me into his arms, wrapping them around me and holding me in a cocoon of warmth and  . . . safety.  Until he tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear and suddenly I was back in my apartment with Elijah stood before me. 

I pulled backwards, the motion sending anxiety to pelt through my bones. "I-I can't, I can-t Jace, I -"

Jace nodded and moved to hold my hands in his. "I know you're scared. And that's okay. But don't let Elijah win. He's not here. It's just you and me. And I'm not your step-father." He began to undo his belt and unbutton his shirt, allowing the fabric to fall to the tiled floor. 

My eyes roamed his chest, gulping at his toned muscles and the sharp curves of his abs. But Jace said nothing, continuing to undress. 

"What are you-" I started, my eyes wide. 

"I'm going to help you. We're going to shower together." 

"The water-  I don't know if I can do it. He, Elijah - my mind - I-" I stopped myself, worrying Jace couldn't understand what I was trying to convey.

"You'll never forget what he did to you." Jace spoke softly, "but perhaps we can try to wash away the feeling of his hands on your body. There is no one in this room that will hurt you. I'm not leaving you."

Jace was right. And he somehow knew exactly what I needed without me voicing it. I did feel dirty. Anytime my shirt rubbed against me, or a hand rested on my shoulder - I was back in my apartment. With Elijah's hands pinning me to the bottom of the bathtub. 

A shower was not a bath. I didn't have to soak in the water swirling with painful memories. The water would run straight off of me and down the drain. The memories would be washed away. 

"Okay." I agreed, my voice weak and almost silent. The warm shower had steamed over the bathroom mirror, condensation beginning to drip from the wall tiles.