Page 101 of Tower of Ash and Darkness (Tower of Ash #1)

CASPER

L aying here with Lailah in my arms feels like a dream…

One I don’t want to wake from. Night has settled across the land, and as I glance at her, the soft glow of the moonlight touches her face.

I notice every freckle on her perfect, beautiful nose.

Though I joke about her being a princess, that's exactly how she looks—like she stepped out of a storybook.

Her blood red hair tumbles over her shoulder, and I pull the blanket up to cover her arm, noticing the goosebumps borne from the cool breeze of the evening. Her eyes, fixed on the sky, are filled with light, tonight reflecting a lighter shade of blue.

I shift closer, pulling her into a more comforting embrace. She nudges me with her nose and smiles, and my heart melts.

"So…" she purrs.

I close my eyes with a sigh, inhaling her scent, trying to commit this moment to memory forever. Frankincense and sin. Her in my arms, outside the cave, surrounded by nothing but the night and the stars above.

I shift closer, pulling her tighter against me. She laughs softly, and the sound rumbles through me like it belongs there. Her fingers trail lazily over my shirt, brushing against my side, and when she tilts her head up, that familiar, thorny smirk arcs her lips.

“So,” she murmurs again, her voice rich with mischief, “is this how you kill your targets? Hold them close, wait until they get comfortable… then end it while they’re looking at the stars?”

I chuckle under my breath, shaking my head.

“Only the pretty ones.”

She clicks her tongue in mock disappointment.

“That’s a shame. I was just starting to feel safe.”

I glance down at her. “You are safe.”

She rests against me in silence for a long while, her breathing slow and steady, like she’s memorizing the sound of what safety feels like. But then her brow furrows, just slightly, and I feel the shift in her body—a question forming.

“Can I ask you something?” she murmurs.

I nod, my jaw tightening as unease curls low in my chest. Her voice comes soft, almost tentative

“Why does my father call you Ghost?”

The question catches me off guard, and I almost forget how to breathe.

I draw in a slow, unsteady breath, deep enough that it tightens across my chest, but it doesn’t ease the ache within it.

I stare past her, into the dark beyond the cave, where the stars scatter across the sky like things too distant to reach.

I think about lying. About brushing it off.

But something about the way she’s looking at me—open, trusting, unafraid—pulls the truth to the surface.

“I lost my way a long time ago,” I finally say, and the words feel heavier the longer they sit in my mouth. “I am dangerous, Lailah,” I say quietly, the words tasting like ash. “In ways you can’t begin to fathom.”

Her hand stills against my chest.

“There’s a darkness inside me… something cavernous and cold. And it’s not gone. It’s never gone.” I pause. “It’s what makes me the ghost of the man I should be.”

My throat tightens, but I force the rest out.

“The man I want to be… for you . ”

She doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Just listens.

“He calls me Ghost because that’s what I am. Not a weapon. Not a monster.” I finally meet her eyes. “Just nothing.”

Nothing . The word is unforgiving, but she’s still looking at me—really looking—and it isn’t fear I see in her eyes. It’s pain. And something far more perilous.

Love.

Gently, she cups my face, coaxing my gaze back to hers with a touch so tender it feels like it might break me.

“You are not nothing to me,” she whispers, full of conviction—so full, it hurts.

For a second, I can’t move. I just stare at her, held in place by the weight of her words, by the way she sees straight through everything I’ve built to keep people out.

Then, without another breath, I lean down and kiss her.

Softly, with no urgency, no fire. Only a quiet ache that sinks into my bones.

Her lips part against mine like an unspoken vow, and in this moment, nothing else exists.

Her eyes remain closed for a heartbeat longer, as though opening them too soon might shatter the quiet that has wrapped itself around us. Then she breathes in, shallow and hesitant, her voice a thread barely pulled free from her throat.

“Casper, I need to tell you something.”

The words bring me back to her fully, anchoring me. I don’t speak, only search her expression as my brows draw together, the shift in her tone setting something uneasy in motion.

“What is it?”

She doesn’t answer right away. She looks away, then back at me, as though the truth has thorns and saying it aloud might be too painful. Finally, she exhales, and the words fall from her lips with a tremble that betrays her careful mask.

“They call me cursed for a reason.”

Cursed. As if she’s something to be feared, something marked. The thought of anyone looking at her and seeing anything less than what she is— what she’s survived —makes my jaw tighten, the slow burn of anger settling beneath my skin like coals that never went cold .

I reach for her then, my hands frame her face, thumbs grazing along her jaw as I tilt her chin up, forcing her to see the truth in me.

“Look at me,”

She does, her eyes shimmering with tears she hasn’t let fall yet, and gods, the sight of her like this—so strong, yet so breakable—it nearly shatters me.

“I don’t care what they’ve said,” I say softly, my thumb brushing just beneath her eye where a tear threatens to fall.

“If it were up to me, I’d erase every lie they ever told about you.

Every cruel word. Every whisper in the dark.

And I would see every last one of them who ever dared call you that rot in the ground, nameless and forgotten. ”

Her brows knit together, her mouth parting like she wants to stop me, to pull me back from the edge of my rage, but I don’t let go. I can’t—not when she needs to hear this. Not when no one else has ever said it to her.

“You are everything precious, Lailah,” I whisper, the truth of it stripping me bare.

And when her tears finally fall, I brush them away with a tenderness that borders on reverence, watching as she gives the smallest nod, her breath catching in her throat—not from pain, but from finally being seen .

I hold her gaze for a moment longer in the silence. Then I lower my head until our foreheads meet. Her breath brushes my skin, warm and uneven, and she doesn’t pull away. Her lips part like they’re waiting for something only I can give.

So I give it.

I kiss her—slow and deep. Not a question, not a request. A claim made not from possession, but from the ache of recognition.

Her mouth moves with mine like we’ve kissed a thousand times in other lifetimes.

And I forget what it means to be haunted.

This kiss isn’t just a touch—it’s a bond, something that calls to her in a language I’ve never spoken aloud but always known.

I press closer, feeling her heartbeat beneath my palm, and I know, without question, that I will never want anyone else .

When I finally pull away, breathless and unraveled, time pauses—and then her stomach growls.

A soft giggle forms under her breath, and I can’t help but chuckle in response.

I kiss her nose and begin to stand, guiding her gently as we move farther from the cave’s mouth.

We step onto the soft moss, the ground cool beneath our feet, and walk beneath the vast sky, where the stars glitter like scattered diamonds.

"Where are we going?" she asks, curiosity mixed with a hint of nervousness.

I reach out my hand, and she places hers in mine.

"We’re going to get you some food," I say, my voice soft, as I pull her into a gentle embrace under the endless, starlit sky.

Lailah wraps her arms around my waist, gazing up at me with those bright eyes.

I lean down, distracting her with a soft kiss before scooping her lithe body up and tossing her over my shoulder, carrying her toward the cave to fetch her cloak and shield her from the night air.

Her laughter rings out, and I can’t help but smile, hearing that sound I desire more than anything.

"Put me down, Casper!" she laughs, squirming in my arms.

I can’t help but hold her tighter, consumed by the moment—until she smacks my backside, catching me completely off guard.

I freeze, momentarily stunned. A soft giggle slips from her lips as I gently lay her down on our makeshift bed.

Towering over her, I take in every perfect detail of her face, not wanting this moment to slip away.

"Turn around," I say playfully, my voice teasing yet firm.

Her knees pull together, a quiet attempt to hide her feelings, but I step between her legs, gently pushing them apart, my tone light but filled with intention.

"Turn around," I repeat, my voice both demanding and playful.

Lailah’s eyes light up with a mischievous spark as she begins to turn slowly, shifting onto her hands and knees in front of me, the air electric with anticipation. Pushing her tunic up over her ass, I bend down to gently bite it, coaxing a small gasp from her that makes my whole body shake.

My fingers trace down her back, lingering at every curve before sliding between her thighs.

I feel her warmth, slick and inviting, as I circle her clit slowly, savoring the way her body reacts.

She gasps as my other hand comes down in a sharp slap against her ass, the sound echoing softly through the night air.

It isn’t cruel—just a reminder. A claim.

Her body arches into it, and gods, she’s perfect like this.