“Clary," he whispered. There was a thump, and she realized he had fallen to his kees by the side of her bed. She didn't move, but her body tightened. His voice was a whisper. "Clary, it's me. It's me.”

“He touched the rough crucifix that lay against his chest and whispered to the moving air, "Lord, that she might be safe, she and my children." Then turned his cheek to her reaching hand and touched her throught the veils of time.”

“For the first time, he looked at her, and she wasn’t a stranger, she was Clary—his friend. His family. The girl he’d sworn always to protect. The girl he loved as fiercely as he loved himself.”

“Do you think she’ll catch him before he gets to the hall?”
“My mom’s spent her whole life chasing me around,” Clary said. “She moves fast.”

“I love you, Jonathan," she whispered.
A long arm snaked around her, and he pulled her against his side.
"I know," he said. "I just wanted to be sure you knew it, too.”

“Say me aye," he whispered against her mouth. "Say me aye."

How could she say anything else?”

“Then he raised her enough to whisper in her ear, and while his voice was tender, his words were savage. "You're my woman, and no man or God or ghost will ever take you from me.”

“He leaned against the door frame, ignoring the kick of adrenaline the sight of her produced. He wondered why, not for the first time. Isabelle used her beauty like she used her whip, but Clary didn't know she was beautiful at all. Maybe that was why.”

“Clary?” Jace tilted his head to the side, studying her face. “You do—you still love me, don’t you?”

“I love Jace Lightwood,” she said. “I don’t know who you are.”

“Tonight," he whispered, his voice hoarse and hot in her ear, "I will make you mine."

-Simon to Daphne”