Hello all! I'm Megan (AKA Mermaid12108) and I'm the author of Terrible Love. To new comers: Hello! Y'all can go on ahead & read the story if you'd like.

To old fans: Hello to you too! Okay, guys, so do y'all remember when I decided to rewrite TL because I didn't like what I'd done to it? Well, you guys told me what you wanted me to keep in the story (Which I will. I promise.) but I decided to pretty much start from scratch, and I apologize for not updating for 2 years. I'm a piece of shit, sorry. Life got the best of me. But I'm updating now! I sincerely hope you guys like this new version as much as you liked the original , if not more. Without further ado, THE BRAND SPANKING NEW TERRIBLE LOVE – ENJOY!

Terrible Love

A prince. A god-damned prince. And what about protection? Did you learn nothing in Mr. Charnel's sex-ed class, Clary? Obviously not, if you had you wouldn't be in this predicament. Clary Fray mentally yelled at herself for being so damn stupid.

"Don't blame yourself. Blame the tequila." Her roommate, Isabelle Lightwood, had claimed after two pink lines on a plastic stick had sent Clary into a fit of sobbing & self blame.

Ugh, why did she always do this to herself? It wasn't anyone's fault, no one deserving of blame. They had both been drunk.

"I'm not as think as you drunk I am."

He laughed, the sound deep & throaty. Clary bit her lip, a rush of warmth splashing over her skin. Oh, she liked that laugh. She really liked that laugh.

"You are right." He said. "You're even drunker than I thought."

She stuck her tongue out at him. "So are you!"

"No, I'm – " He bumped into the wall as they were turning the corner, and Clary laughed so hard that she bent at the waist, trying to catch her breath.

He snorted.

"Okay, who am I kidding? I'm shit-faced."

Clary turned towards him, planning to say something, but stopped when she looked down at her dress. She gave another twirl, watching the gold material spread around her like a blooming flower. She grinned, twirling around and around again until everything blurred together. Suddenly, she smacked into something hard & warm. Arms went around her, holding her up before she ate carpet. She looked up as the spinning room slowed, coming face to face with him, so close that their breath mingled. His lips looked so soft, so inviting, and she found herself wondering what they would feel like against hers. So she moved her head forward, tilting it to align with his, and pressed her lips to his. His lips were just as delectable as she had predicted, and when he responded to the kiss, her senses went wild. His tongue slipped into her mouth, and he tasted of alcohol & something so unique & so obviously him. He applied the slightest pressure to her hips, pulling her even closer. Lacing his arms around her lower back, he held her to him as if he thought she might slip away. She gripped the collar of his dress shirt, not wanting to lose this feeling. Her nerve endings spiked into overdrive as every curve of his body fit against hers. He smacked one of the elevator buttons, and a door let out a faint ding as it slid open. He spun her so that he was in front & backed her into one of the elevator's walls. She tugged at the buttons on his shirt, biting her lip as she pushed it down his shoulders and he–

Clary was jerked out of the memory by the sound of a blaring horn. She froze in her place, somehow unable to move as she imagined the taxi cab flattening her into a Clary-shaped pancake. One thing flashed through her mind as the vehicle came hurtling toward her, and it wasn't her life. It was just one single stupid thought: Was she seriously going to die wearing this? A hand circled around her arm, jerking her back to safety & saving her from ever finding out what being hit by a car would feel like. The force of the tug caused her to lose her balance, sending her crashing into her savior & causing them both to fall back on the sidewalk. "Thank you – sorry for falling on you – you kind of saved my li..." The words seemed to flee her mind as she got her first look at her rescuer. Oh, god and heaven above. It was him. She was sure of it. There was no way she could ever forget him. She'd never forget his curly golden locks, his mesmerizing gold eyes – possibly the most unique eyes she had ever seen – and his lips, his pink, plump lips that she would never, ever forget the feel of.

Those lips parted, and her heart suddenly started pounded. What would he say? Did he remember her? Did he remember that night?

"I know I'm hot, but seriously, stop staring. You might start drooling." He said, and as if his words were laced with tiny little thorns, her hopeful bubble popped. She had hoped that he wasn't a complete and utter ass, but he was, and the disappointment put a sour taste in Clary's mouth. A tiny spark of anger surfaced, and she braced her hands on his shoulders, pushing herself up & into a standing position.

"Yeah, well thanks for saving me from being flattened. Bye now."

And because today was so obviously not her day, she turned around and walked straight into a metal streetlamp pole. The metal rang, a small indication of how hard she had hit it. She brought a hand to her aching forehead. "Shit." She whimpered.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw a flash, and at first she thought she had hit her head so hard that she was going blind. But then she heard the shouts.

"Jace!"

What the...?

"Prince Herondale!"

The camera flashes blinded her, so many at once that they formed a wall around her.

"Are the rumors true? Are you and Aline Penhollow back together?"

"Is this your girlfriend?"

"Hey, redhead! What's your name?"

A hand reached in and yanked her away from the chaos and into the back of a car.

"Get us out of here. Quickly." He ordered to the driver. And the car lurched forward. The outside world quieted, and once her vision cleared, Clary felt like she could breath again. He was looking at her now, his mouth pressed into a thin line.

"Sorry, I just had to get you out of there. The paparazzi are legitimately insane. I didn't want to drag a stranger into..." He trailed off, looking at her in a weird way.

"What?" Clary asked, suddenly worried that she had seriously deformed her face when she had smacked into that pole. He reached forward, twirling his finger around a thin curl that had escaped her hat. Before she could stop him, he had pulled off her hat. Warm curls cascaded down her back & shoulders. Recognition lit up his features a second later. "Holy crap." He whispered. And then, louder, "Gerard, please take us back to the palace. Immediately."

He handed her hat back to her, setting it on her lap. She made no move to try & fit the piece of green knit fabric back onto her head. When she dared a look at him, he was staring straight forward. She looked away again, this time keeping her eyes on her lap.

"For the record, I think you look much better without it." Jace said.

{*}

Standing in the foyer of a freaking mansion, Clary kind of felt like poop. She really didn't belong in a place like this. Jace again took her arm and led her up a grand staircase, down a hall, another, another, and then finally into a room. He closed the door behind them, and then sat in a desk chair, studying her intently. Clary took the opportunity to look anywhere but him, surveying the room. A king size bed sat in the center of the room, the headboard backed up against the wall. Beside it was a nightstand, and a bookshelf, the walls (painted a royal blue with silver stripes) devoid of any décor other than a family photo. The desk he sat at contained some books & papers neatly stacked on the left side, a lamp and an assortment of writing utensils on the left. In the center sat a Macbook with a pair of expensive-looking blue headphones atop it. The entire room was neat, so neat it looked like it might be featured in a furniture catalouge. Definitely not what she had expected. He drummed his fingers on the glass surface of the desk, his brows scrunched together in concentration. "I know you from somewhere. God, where do I know you from?"

Should she tell him? Or see if he would figure it out?

She decided on the latter.

"Um...are you one of Aline's friends?"

Clary shook her head.

"I would hope not. She's a raving bitch. Hm...coffee barista – wait, I'm sorry. That's stupid – don't even answer that. Are you one of my mom's friends daughters?"

Still a no, she gave another head shake.

"Yeah, you don't seem snobby & stuck up. Wait – aw, hell. You aren't a reporter, are you?"

She'd had enough of this guessing game.

"Um, the night of the Hudson's Art Gala?"

He shrugged. "What about it?"

"Um...you...had a few – scratch that, a lot – of drinks with this girl."

He shook his head.

"No? Still not ringing any bells? Okay. Uh...how about...a whole lot of booze, drunk sex, a hotel room?"

He barked out a laugh. "Ha, no. You must have me confused with someone else."

"No, I really don't."

"Yes, you do." He insisted.

Okay, he was reallllllly starting to piss her off.

"I know who I do and don't have sex with, you buttchunk."

He laughed. "Buttchunk?"

Her cheeks flamed with anger.

"Okay, okay, fine. Let's say we did. Why are you reminding me? Look, I'm not looking for anything seri –"

The words seemed to burst from her mouth in a moment of anger, and once they were out she couldn't take them back no matter how much she wanted to.

"Because, I'm pregnant, you asshole!"

And there's our new chapter 1. What did you guys think. Please leave a review! (P.S. Thoughts on the new cover?)

I just wanted to express again how much I love each & every one of you guys. You're what keeps me writing. – Megan