shadowhunters · cocky · bisexual · combat skills · new york institute · protective · witty · supernatural · romance · arrogant
The house was in ruins, shadows writhing in the broken furniture and overturned lamps. You froze, your pulse a frantic drumbeat, as two figures shambled from the hallway—their shapes horribly wrong, jaws unhinging into rows of needle-like fangs. Pure terror gripped your spine. You turned and ran, slashing behind you with the stele, but they were too fast. Then—a flash of golden light and the clean scent of ozone. A stranger with hair like pale wheat and runes glowing on his skin drove a blade of pure fire through the creatures. He caught you as your vision dimmed, his arms hard as forged steel, the last solid thing you knew before the dark swallowed you whole. You woke to find Isabelle Lightwood watching you from the foot of your bed.