Maybe his life could be amazing. Maybe it always could have, and he’d needed Magnus to open the door and let him see all the wonders he held inside himself. All the capacity for joy.

Magnus’s mouth slid against his. He looped his arms around Alec’s neck, drawing him in tighter and closer. Magnus’s body moved sinuously against his, and light became heat. Magnus drew a hand down the lapel of Alec’s jacket, slipping it inside and resting his palm against Alec’s shirt, over his frantically beating heart. Alec lifted his hand from the lean line of Magnus’s waist, catching on the metal scales of Magnus’s elaborate belt before he took Magnus’s hand again, and interlaced their fingers together, there against his chest. Alec could feel a flush creeping up the back of his neck and flooding his face, leaving him light-headed and embarrassed and wishing for more. Every feeling was new—he kept being caught off guard by the combination of the sharp, cutting ache of desire and the tenderness, incongruous and yet impossible to untangle. He had never expected anything like this, but now that he had it, he did not know how he would ever do without it. He hoped he never had to find out.

“Alexander, do you—” Magnus began, his murmur faint under the song and the shrieks of laughter. His voice was low and warm and the only important sound in the world.

“Yes,” Alec whispered before Magnus could finish. All he wanted was to say yes to anything Magnus asked. His mouth clashed against Magnus’s, hungry and hot, their bodies locking together. They were kissing wildly, as if starved for it, and Alec didn’t care about any of the people looking. He had kissed Magnus in the Accords Hall partly to show the world what he felt. In this moment, he didn’t care about the world. He cared about what he and Magnus were making between them: the heat and the friction that made him want to die, to drop to his knees and pull Magnus down with him.

Then there was a crash of sound and a blaze of fire, as if a meteor was landing in the center of the ballroom, and both Alec and Magnus froze, tense and uncertain. A new warlock had appeared at the foot of the stairs, his eyes locked with Malcolm Fade’s, and though Alec didn’t recognize him, he certainly recognized the frisson of alarm and distress that rippled across the crowd.

Alec used his hold on Magnus’s hand to swing Magnus behind him, keeping their fingers locked. With his free hand, he drew a seraph blade and murmured an angel’s name. Across the room, Bat the DJ and Raphael put their shot glasses down on the bar. Raphael began to elbow his way through the crowd toward his vampires. Lily and Elliott were heading toward Raphael as well. Alec lifted his voice so it rang through the marble room, in the same way the light of his seraph blade blazed.

“Anyone who wants a Shadowhunter’s protection,” Alec shouted, “come to me!”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

* * *

High Water

ALEC HAD ONE HAND IN Magnus’s, and his other hand on the hilt of his seraph blade. Several of the party guests were cautiously creeping toward him and his offered protection. Magnus scanned the room, waiting to see who made the first move.

The werewolf head of security was storming down the stairs. The warlock at the foot of the stairs made a small gesture and the head of security flew over the crowd on the dance floor, hit the marble floor, and skidded all the way into the wall. Catarina ran to his side immediately, helping him up as he hunched over and clutched his ribs.

The warlock did not look to see what had happened to the werewolf. He was a short man with a beard, snakelike eyes, and white-scaled skin. He scanned the crowd as he made his way onto the floor.

“Malcolm Fade.” The look on the warlock’s face was thunderous as he pointed a finger at the High Warlock of Los Angeles. A light vapor seemed to drift from the tip of his finger. “You stole my party and my mansion.”

“Hello, Barnabas,” said Malcolm. “Did you lose a mansion? That’s so sad. I hope you find it.”

“I bought this mansion last week! The moment it went up for sale!” Barnabas bellowed. “We are standing right now in the mansion you stole from me!”

“Oh, hooray! Consider it found then,” Malcolm said.

Alec nudged Magnus. “Who is that?”

Magnus leaned in. “Barnabas Hale. He runs the Shadow Market in Los Angeles. I believe he was a contender for High Warlock before Malcolm got it. Bit of a rivalry there.”

“Oh,” Alec said. “Great.”

Barnabas swept a menacing finger across the room. “I was going to be the one who celebrated our amazing Downworlder victory! I purchased this venue for my Barnabas Bash. Or I might have called it my Barnabash. I hadn’t decided yet! Now we’ll never know.”

“Well, someone has definitely had a few drinks tonight,” Magnus muttered. “Barnabash? Really?”

Barnabas’s rant was not over.

“You swoop in like the thief you are and undermine me, just like you stole my rightful position as High Warlock of L.A. Well, this party is canceled! You’ve made me look a fool.” Barnabas’s hands began to hiss and smoke.

The crowd melted back, giving them more space in the middle of the dance floor. More and more people were collecting behind Alec.

“You really don’t need my help for that, Barnabas,” Malcolm observed. His hands began to glow, and two glasses of champagne appeared at the tips of his fingers. He sipped from one and floated the other to Barnabas. “Relax. Enjoy the party.”