Chain of Iron (The Last Hours, #2)

by Cassandra Clare

“Well, you know what they say,” said James. “All the best men are either married or Silent Brothers.”

There was a long, painful pause, during which Cordelia wondered whether it was possible to die of humiliation.

James made a funny sort of sound.

(James had only smiled at this, and when she tried to make him tell her what he was thinking of, he waved it away.)

James grinned. “No. That demon and my father are old friends.

They all stared in utter surprise. It was Alastair Carstairs, striding into the room like he always did—as if he’d bought the place and sold it at a handsome profit.

Love this description.

“I meant it, then—you belong to me and not to him—you will never belong to him, James—” The breath went out of her in a gasp as his arms circled her and he lifted her off her feet. Cordelia knew she was no delicate little doll like Lucie, but James swept her up as if she weighed no more than a parasol. Her hands came down on his shoulders just as he clamped his mouth over hers, stopping her words, her breath, with one explosive kiss.

His heart gave a slow, hard thump. When they were alone, he could tell her the necklace’s secret. But not now, he told himself; it felt like the fiftieth time today. Not yet.

But love is not always a lightning bolt, is it? Sometimes it is a creeping vine. It grows slowly until suddenly it is all that there is in the world.”

“You cannot save people who do not want to be saved,” said Magnus. “You can only stand by their side and hope that when they wake and realize they need saving, you will be there to help them.”