I Think I May Be In Love

Fresh Is Better. But You've Never Drunk Fresh Blood. Have You?" Simon Raised His Eyebrow In Response. "well, Aside From Mine Of Course," Jace Said. "and I'm Pretty Sure My Blood Is Fan-tastic.

Let Me Guess. Luke An Amatis Are At The Accords Hall, Having Another Meeting.” “yeah. I Think They’re Having The Meeting Where They Get Together And Decide What Other Meetings They Need To Have.

In The End It Was Shadowhunting They Had Bonded Over—a Shared Love Of Sharp-edged Weapons, Gleaming Seraph Blades, The Painful Pleasure Of Burning Marks, The Thought-numbing Swiftness Of Battle. When Alec Had Wanted To Go Out Hunting Alone With Jace, Leaving Izzy Behind, Jace Had Spoken Up For Her: “we Need Her With Us; She’s The Best There Is. Aside From Me, Of Course.” She Had Loved Him Just For That.

Something Snapped Inside Maryse. “he Is Not A Herondale. He Is A Lightwood. Jace Lightwood. He’s My Son.

He Produced A Handkerchief—crisply Folded—and Handed It To Her. She Took It With Silent Astonishment. She’d Never Before Known Anyone Who Carried A Handkerchief.