Half Truths

The Go-To-Guy

Metal clanged against metal, ringing in Jace's ears as he placed the weights on the ends of the bar. Once satisfied he had enough, he lowered himself onto the bench and slid his body all the way to the top, his feet on the ground and the bar positioned over his chest. Alec stood at Jace's head, spotting just in case he needed help—which he wouldn't, he never did.

He grabbed the bar, his hands evenly spaced, fingers placed exactly along the grips, and lifted. After several sets of the bar lowering and thrusting forward with each exhaled breath, beads of sweat formed on his brow and a slow burn spread over his chest and through his biceps. It ached in a way that could only be described as satisfying. With one last push, Alec slipped his hands under the bar, helping to guide it back to its resting place.

Jace sat up, lifting the bottom of his towel to wipe his face before switching positions with Alec. As Alec started to lift, Isabelle settled on the bench next to them, sitting on the edge and curling a dumbbell. "So, what happened yesterday?" she asked, her eyes intent on Jace.

He glanced up momentarily. "What are you talking about?"

"With Clary." She switched arms. "She looked kind of shaken when you came back upstairs."

"Oh." He lowered his gaze back down to Alec, placing his hands under the center of the bar when he saw him struggling to push it up. "Her brother showed up."

"Really?" Isabelle's brows shot up. "How did that go?"

"He's an ass." Alec finished his rep and Jace moved in between them, lowering himself to a squat. "He got a little . . . physical with her."

"Physical?" Alec asked, sitting up. "How so?"

Jace shrugged. "It wasn't much, he just grabbed her, but there was something . . ." He shook his head. "I don't know. Something about the way he did it and the look in his eyes . . ."

"What'd you do?" Isabelle peered at him.

Jace stood. "I told him to get his hands off her if he wanted to keep all his appendages."

"Real Smooth, Jace." Isabelle chuckled.

"What?"

She rolled her eyes and stood, walking over to replace the dumbbells she'd used. "I bet she wasn't all that happy about your stepping in. She's pretty self-sufficient, that one." A smirk graced her lips when she turned around.

Jace narrowed his eyes. "I don't care whether she was happy or not. Like I'm going to sit by and watch a guy twice her size grab her like that? I may be an ass, but I'm not about to let that slide. You females and your feminist crap . . . Being independent and strong are one thing, but acting like you never need help or that you can handle everything on your own is just idiotic."

Isabelle stepped over to him, her chest almost flush with his. "Are you saying women are weak, Herondale?" The venom in her voice washed over Jace, ebbing and flowing across his skin in waves of prickling heat. "Because if you'd like me to prove it, I'll show you just how well a woman can hold her own against a man." She pressed her hand to his chest and pushed him back, hard.

Jace caught her wrist and grinned. "Anytime, Iz. You know I'm always up for proving you wrong, but we aren't talking about women with training. Clary is not you. She's not trained, and therefore does not have the advantages someone like you has."

"God, I so want to kick your ass right now."

Jace moved past her, walking backward toward the sparring room and beckoning her to him with his fingers. "Come on then, baby. Show me what you've got."