Toward Grace

"Relax your arm."

"Like this?"

"Not precisely. Keep it elevated, but loosen your grip."

"It's going to fall out of my hand if I do."

"It won't, I promise. There. Like that. Feel better?"

"Yes, I suppose. Now, do I move from the elbow or the wrist?"

"Both. The strength of the music comes from your shoulder, it's heart comes from the elbow, and it's spirit from the wrist."

Tessa exhaled deeply, allowing her posture to give for only a moment before she resolutely straightened her back. Readjusting her chin against the folded cloth, she focused on holding the bow aloft. "So I am to use all three. Very well. What next?"

Jem's hand, slim and warm, covered hers, guiding the bow to move down against the strings until an inharmonious jumble of notes rang out—an offensive sound that reminded Tessa of the noise Church had made when Will caught his tail in the library door the other day.

"I'm dreadful."

Jem chuckled, and she could feel the sound, his chest bumping against her shoulders in a way that filled her with affection. "It will take practice," he said diplomatically. "And rightfully so. Were you to master the violin the first time you held it in your hands, it would do terrible things to my confidence."

"I'll need lessons every night if there's to be a chance of improvement."

"Don't worry. I won't be requiring a public concert of you any time soon. We'll stick to private instruction until you can manage at least a passable rendition of Little Tommy Tucker."

Tessa grinned, nodding her agreement as a restful silence seemed to settle around them. It was well after dark, and what little sound there was on the streets below the Institute was muffled by shuttered windows. A dozen candle flames stood tall and slim above tarnished, silver stands. Their light was restful and unwavering in the bedroom's stillness. Tessa preferred the softness of candlelight to the harsher luminescence of the Nephilim's witchlights. A nostalgia perhaps. Tessa had countless childhood memories of new book spines cracking beneath the glow of diffused candlelight. Invariably in the morning, the candle burned down to a wickless stump, the sconce scaled with dry wax. Aunt Harriet had always rebuked her for the habit.

After the wedding, when Tessa and Jem were consolidating their belongings into his room, the substitution of candles for witchlights was one of the few changes Tessa had requested. The suggestion earned a boyish grin from Jem followed by a softly spoken phrase in Mandarin (of which, she was only able to comprehend the words 'modesty' and 'beauty').

Tessa lowered the violin. She half-turned in the circle of Jem's arms. They were both dressed for bed—Tessa in her nightgown and Jem in a light tunic and trousers. The shirt was undone in the front, revealing the distinct angle of his collarbone and the slivers of scars and ink cast across his chest like the markings of some celestial map. She traced the balance rune on his neck before meeting his eyes. "You're always having to teach me things."

His chin tipped as he regarded her curiously. Lifting a hand, he tucked her braid back over her shoulder. "What do you mean?"

"Since my arrival at the Institute, you've taught me all sorts of things. You showed me how to navigate the city. You've explained so much of the Shadow World, and, beyond that, you've helped train me to defend myself against it. Six months ago you began teaching me Mandarin, and now you're starting on the violin. You would think I didn't have a single accomplishment to my name before I came here."

She didn't mean to sound self-pitying. Tessa counted herself lucky to be on the receiving end of Jem's inexhaustible generosity and patience. He along with the others had always been—in Tessa's reflective opinion—rather over-obliging in terms of her curiosity. Even before she and Jem married—when she was still considered an outsider by the Clave—there was seldom an occasion when Tessa would be denied information she directly requested. Standing here in the room she shared with her husband, Tessa felt she could fill book after book with everything she'd learned since leaving America less than a year ago.

"Is that what you think?" Jem said, with no small amount of wonder in his voice. She could tell he was trying not to smile.

"Isn't it true?" Tessa stepped away and turned toward the table where the violin case was propped open. She tucked the instrument into the fine velvet and secured the bow beside the rosin before closing and latching the case the way she had seen Jem do it countless time before. When she turned back to him, he was watching her through the tousled strands of his silvery hair. Shadows licked at the hollow of his throat while the light playing across his face softened the angles until all the color and lines seemed to be washed from his figure. Were it not for the broad, unyielding width of his shoulders, it seemed he could have melted into the shades of darkness that breathed in a living spectrum around the room.

Tessa felt a tightening in her chest at the thought. She had made an unspoken promise to never linger on the thought that Jem would ever be anywhere but here with her and the people who loved him. Just considering the possibility of losing him was enough to turn her bones cold with fear.

In two hurried, graceless steps she reached Jem, who caught her by the arm before she could trip on the hem of her nightgown. She steadied herself with a hand against his ribs and did her best to return his thoughtful stare. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Have I ever lied to you?"

Tessa didn't have to consider. "Never."

"Then, I hope that you'll believe me when I say that you are one of the most accomplished women I have ever met. And if you feel that you are anything less than exquisite, I have failed you as a husband."

Tessa smiled because Jem had not lost the ability to make her blush, and she felt her cheeks warm now at his sincerity. "The things you say, James. I feel obligated to remind you that you've already wooed me one and are under no obligation to woo me a second time."

"Tessa." Jem lowered his face to hers. His palm curved around her cheek. She felt his breath like a kiss. "You know I haven't any practice at flattery. And you should also know that any accomplishments I managed before we met are decidedly humble compared to the accomplishment of having you as my wife."

Tessa bit her lip. A warm shiver ran up her spine. As her fingertips fluttered over inked skin, she wondered at her reaction to the simple declaration. Would it always be like this? Butterflies dancing in her stomach every time he called her his? Thinking of herself as Jem's wife still didn't come easy; it came fast and throbbing, like a second heart beating in her chest.

Tessa turned her smile into the palm of his hand. "Truly?"

"Truly. And you've taught me a great deal. About America. About books and poetry. About the injustices done to women by their clothes"—Tessa laughed—"and about what it means to be brave." His voice softened almost imperceptibly. "You taught me what it means to fall in love."

The night began growing around them, a slow churning that gave way to heightened expectation as Tessa allowed Jem to guide her toward their bed. She sat on the edge, and Jem deftly tugged at the tie in her hair until it came free. She closed her eyes against the overwhelming feeling of his hands pushing through her tresses, coaxing them into waves down her back.

Her own deft fingers sought out the sides of his open tunic, pushing the cloth off his shoulders and down to his wrists. When he released her to let it fall away, Tessa took advantage of the distraction. Leaning forward, she pressed her parted lips to the soft slope of his stomach, smiling when his breath caught.

"You've taught me so much, wǒ de ài," he murmured, the intonations thick on his tongue, as he regarded her beneath half-closed eyes.

"Tell me," she breathed. Beneath her lips, his heart was beating at a swift, rugged pace that she had learned to distinguish from the restless rhythm of yin fen racing through his veins. This particular sound was all her doing.

"I can show you," Jem said and eased her further back onto the bed. Tessa turned, making space for him to follow her onto the duvet. Of course, Jem was infinitely more graceful. While she managed to get tangled in her nightgown, he hovered between her legs, grinning down at her struggle in fond amusement.

Toes stubbornly caught in the hem, she fell back against the pillows with a sigh. "Just take it off."

Jem kissed her cheek in consent and reached for the tie begin her neck. "You taught me how to do this."

He took his time, fingers dancing over her skin in distracted circles, tugging half-heartedly at the simple knot.

Tessa could hardly stand the teasing.

"Kiss me, please."

He did, tenderly, slowly and deeply enough that Tessa felt every part of her being sighing and warming in answer. As Jem bared her arms, she wound them around his neck, pulling him close and bearing his full weight. It was heady breathlessness and the dampness of skin.

"You also taught me this." The words passed from Jem's lips the same time his fingers tips swept up her thigh and to the sensitive place between her legs, a spot they had first discovered quite by accident.

When Tessa closed her eyes, she could recall the night with an almost perfect clarity. They were in Egypt. A week had passed since their departure from London, and it was the first night Tessa had given in to the temptation to have Jem's body pinned beneath hers. A mild breeze carried the scent of sand through the open window. It was dark, and when she rolled her hips down into his, there was a blooming fission of warmth low in her belly. And Jem noticed—followed her wordless entreaties down, down until she had felt desperate for him to never stop touching her there.

The memory made her body ache.

"Jian..."

The hand spreading her thigh twitched suddenly. Jem's eyes, pale and translucent in the dim light, regarded her with unmasked veneration. "My name. Somehow you've taught me that as well."

When his touch receded, she bit her lip to keep from whimpering. She followed the progress of his scarred and Marked hands as they traveled up along her body—cradling her hips, then skimming her sides beneath the cotton of her gown. She arched her body, helping him rid her of the garment completely.

His lips were at her ear, her temple, the bridge of her nose.

His voice, faint and paler than the dying candlelight, floated over her. "Do you know the most important thing you've taught me?"

Tessa didn't have the breath, the coherency, to offer any answer save to reach for the hard lines of his hips and guide him forward, inside. Anything Jem might have said was lost amongst the ineffable, shut out like the rain muffled against blackened windows.

AN: HAPPY VALENTINES DAY, JUSTINE. THIS IS FOR YOU, BB. I'M SORRY IF IT'S TERRIBLE AND NOT AS TRASHY AS I PROMISED. xoxoxoxoxoxooo