“I hate to tell you, dragon, but that's an integral part of the whole usiness," he whispered. "If you're afraid to touch me then we're not going to get very far."She lifted her head to look at him. "I thought I could lie back and let you ravish me," she said with complete honesty.He shook his head, the smile hovering around his lips, his eyes intent. "This is a cooperative effort, my love. You have to do your part.”

“This was why I did what I did," she whispered. "I looked at those men at the ball, and I thought of that night in the carriage when you touched me, and I knew I could never let any of them touch me." She tilted her head back and closed her eyes, pressing his hands to her breasts. "Only you.”

“I don't hate you, Jace.""I don't hate you, either."She looked up at him, relieved. "I'm glad to hear that—""I wish I could hate you," he said. His voice was light, his mouth curved in an unconcerned half smile, his eyes sick with misery. "I want to hate you. I try to hate you. It would be so much easier if I did hate you. Sometimes I think I do hate you and then I see you and I—"Her hands had grown numb with their grip on the blanket. "And you what?""What do you think?" Jace shook his head. "Why should I tell you everythingabout how I feel when you never tell me anything? It's like banging my head on awall, except at least if I were banging my head on a wall, I'd be able to make myself stop."Clary's lips were trembling so violently that she found it hard to speak. "Do you think it's easy for me?" she demanded.”

“He touched her face, gently, with the back of his hand. 'you disappear so completely into your head sometimes.' he said. 'i wish i could follow you.'you do, she wanted to say, you live in my head all the time”

“Me? I want you to be sure." he said."You," Livia whispered. "Me." His eyes were full of intent. "Always you." Livia gave him her biggest, heartfelt smile. "Five hundred." Blake touched her face as if she might be a mirage and smiled back only when she didn't disappear.”

““You don’t expect love.” She shook her head in confusion. “This is the second time you’ve said that. Is this going to be like one of those dreadful novels where you warn me not to fall in love with you, and if I do, then you’ll turn into Bluebeard and try to lop my head off? You’re handsome. You have all your teeth.” She looked into his eyes and lightly touched her hand to his cheek. He grew very still. “I can offer you no promises. If you’re any good in bed, I might fall in love with you. If that is going to be anathema…” “No,” he said swiftly. He looked away from her, and when he spoke again, there was a slight rasp to his words. “No. That would be perfectly…unobjectionable.””