I do not own any rights to The Mortal Instruments. All credits are given to Cassandra Clare.

In the darkness of her room, Clary sat up in bed. The soft downy covers pooling around her bare thighs. She heard footsteps, which woke her from sleep. She strained her eyes as she looked for shadows under the doorway, unsure if she was still dreaming. "I'm in the Institute," she thought to herself, "it's ok, nothing can get me here." She was used to sleeping with her best friend Simon, but since his recent change, he was no longer allowed in the Institute. Trying to shake the uneasy feeling that came over her, like she was being trapped, she sat still. Listening intently she heard the footsteps growing louder. They paused outside her room, the candlelight from the hall throwing shadows eerily under the door. She tensed, almost starting to reach for her silver knife in the bedside table. "You're being ridiculous," she told herself. The handle of the door turned noiselessly and cracked open as a soft pale light was suddenly thrust into the room.

Jace quietly slipped in and shut the door behind him. Gazing towards the bed he sees her sitting up sleepily, hair looking slightly tousled as if she had been turning over in her sleep. He crossed the way to the bed wordlessly, with the witchlight glowing softly in his hand, never once taking his eyes off of hers. He set the stone on the table by the bed and bent down to unlace and remove his boots. He straightened up and finds her eyes again as he smiles sexily and peels the shirt off of his chest. Her eyes leave his momentarily to search his bare skin, making her way down his torso, she sees the light scars from the runes, the jagged scar on his chest from being stabbed almost a month before, but nothing new. After a night of hunting, this is a good sign. He unclasps his belt buckle and undoes the buttons on his pants slowly, enjoying the moment of her longing for him. Stepping out of his gear he comes towards her, his hand reaching out and brushing her soft hair. She smells clean, like flowers. He kissed her briefly before joining her on the bed, kneeling in front of her on top of the blankets. His hands leave her head and his fingers lightly untangle from her hair as he gazes lovingly at her, his hands moving down her chest and over the delicate swell of her breasts, he comes to rest on the end of her nightshirt. He starts to bring up the delicate material, lifting it slowly, admiring her body and finally tugging the material over her head.

He smells of metal and spices, and something else. Locking her mouth on to his she entwined her fingers in his curly hair, shifting slightly to lie back, bringing him with her. He brushed his lips ever so lightly against hers as he lowered himself on the bed. Her hands wandering up his muscular arms, her fingers briefly circling the star shaped birthmark on his left shoulder. She could feel the heat radiating off him in waves as he angled himself delicately at her entrance. "This is it," she thought, "it's finally happening." She wrapped her legs around him bravely in response to his questioning gaze. Propping herself up on her elbows, she searched out in the darkness for him, he senses her longing and responds in haste. His lips balmy and delicious on hers, the soft flesh prying her mouth open with his. The urgency of his tongue lashes against her own as he slowly enters her. She cries out, briefly, as the pain slowly changes to pleasure as he deepens his thrust, not stopping until he is fully enclosed. Pleasure bloomed with each motion like a flower. The heat of him inside her almost too much to bear, relieved only by the forward motion pressing sweetly against her spot. Arching her back she strains to have him deeper, harder. He senses her need and follows through, picking up his pace as her breathing becomes more erratic. Her fingernails driving him crazy as they rake hungrily across his back. He finds her hands and laces his fingers in her own as he guides her hands above her head, pinning them to the soft bed. Her body has become uncontrollable, responding of its own accord, desperate to feed the hunger within her. Her hips swing up to meet his as he comes down upon her. The pace quickens as her body seems to convulse around him in pleasure as he begins to moan softly into her mouth. Ecstasy explodes inside her as they climax as one, delicately pulsating against one another.

Clary opened her eyes and sensed that it was early morning. Soft light coming in through the windows, a pale orange glow has been set upon everything in her new room. She had decided, shortly after her mothers marriage to Luke, that it would be best to move out of their house that they now shared together, and move into the Institute. She was almost 18. Her mother and new husband should have the time alone to enjoy their Honeymoon phase. After a few days of arguing, and with much encouragement from Simon, her mother had finally given in and allowed it. And besides, she thought to herself, there wasn't a safer place she could be. The Institute was where she should be, safe from dangers of the world. She was a Shadowhunter, in training, of course. Every day was spent studying runes, demons, and Downworlders in the Shadowhunter's Codex, and every night was spent rigorously training for the chance to go out and fight for the safety of humans-or mundanes, as they were now to be referred.

Thinking of the night before, she smiled, elated at what had transpired between her and Jace. She turned over in bed, stretching her arms out searching for him, but came up empty. He was gone. She was suddenly self conscious. Thinking she couldn't have been any good for her first time, and feeling totally humiliated, she decided to get up and get a shower. Shifting her weight to get out of bed she realized that she wasn't even sore, she had assumed after losing her virginity and moving muscles that she didn't even knew existed, that she would feel a tightness in her muscles. But she just felt normal. Actually, thinking about it, she felt better rested than she had in a long time.

After her shower, with still no sign of Jace reappearing, she decided to venture out of her room in search of Isabelle, or breakfast, or both. With her towel still wrapped around her wet hair, she opened her door and stepped out into the hall. She quietly padded to the next door, Isabelle's room, in search of a friend, but was let down when she discovered it was empty. Thinking Isabelle must have gotten up early, which never happened, she decided to head towards the kitchen. After turning from the hallway housing the dormitory style bedrooms, and onto the main corridor, which looked everything like the old church that the Institute was, she saw someone coming through the main entrance. Momentarily blinded by the bright morning sun, she squinted down the hall and recognized a familiar face-Isabelle. Looking disheveled with her long dark hair sticking out every which way, she sauntered down the hall in bare feet, with her strappy high heels draped over one shoulder. Her short dress inching up and threatening to expose her darkest secrets, she looked up and finally noticed Clary staring.

"You're certainly up early," said Isabelle, obviously in a sour mood. Somehow, no matter what Isabelle was doing or wearing, she always looked like sex on a stick.

"I couldn't sleep." Clary had hoped she didn't sound too desperate, and she went on. "I was looking for Jace, he was here with me last night but he must have slipped out before I woke up. Have you heard from him?"

"I was with Simon all night at his apartment," Isabelle confessed sleepily. "I got a text from Alec sometime last night telling me to meet him here. I only just saw it when I woke up, I just assumed they were together."

Alec, Isabelle's older brother, was old enough to hunt, according to the Law. He was also Jace's parabatai, his fighting partner. Together they walked towards the library, where Alec was most likely to be found. The double doors opening to the library were wide open, a small fire was crackling in the fireplace and in front of it sat Alec, still in his fighting gear, sitting on the old leather couch. He looked dreadful. His hair was matted with some kind of sticky black substance, presumably demon blood, and his eyes were sunken into his skull as if he hadn't slept in weeks.

Alec looked up and without hesitation began, "Jace is gone."

The blood drained from Clary's face. "What do you mean he's gone?" She asked, "Why are you so dirty? You must have gotten back hours ago and you still haven't changed."

"I only just got back," he said, "as soon as I sent the text to Isabelle. It couldn't have been more than ten minutes ago." Alec stood up and crossed the room to Clary, looking at her accusingly, "What do you mean I must have gotten back hours ago?"

"Jace came home last night, I just assumed you were here too," Clary started, "he must have gone before I woke up but he was here last night."

Clary watched as confusion took hold of Alec's face as he shook his head. "No Clary, we left last night to go hunting, and I'm only just getting back. Jace never came back here last night. He was taken."

This is my first chapter of this story, picking up where Cassandra Clare left off after book 5. Please review and let me know what you think. I'm new at writing and could use some critiques!