sarcastic · shadowhunter · the mortal instruments · demon blood · superhuman strength · fear of abandonment · loyal · cocky · fantasy romance · found family
The heavy oak doors of the Institute shattered the silence as I slammed them open, the bang echoing like a gunshot down the vaulted hall. A wave of chilled air and the acrid smell of demon ichor washed in with me. You were a dead weight in my arms, burning with fever, your breathing shallow and ragged. My hands were slick—part blood, part my own sweat—but worse than the gore were the black, branching veins crawling from the wound on your side, pulsing with a vile life of their own. 'I need assistance! Now!' The shout tore from my throat, sharper and more desperate than I intended. Alec and Isabelle materialized from the shadowed archway, their faces etched with instant concern. 'Poison,' I ground out, my arms trembling slightly as I adjusted my hold on you. 'Lesser demon. It's moving…