Page 14 of Tower of Ash and Darkness (Tower of Ash #1)
I freeze in place, Jason’s nod replaying in my mind. As if on instinct, my legs carry me forward before my thoughts can catch up. The soft rustle of my dress whispers against the stone floor as I make my way to the east wing, the growing cooler as I descend.
The familiar path winds deeper into the castle’s heart, its corridor lit by the flickering glow of scattered lanterns. The shadows seem to shift and breathe around me, the low hum of magic threading through the stones a comfort I’ve always found grounding.
The underground library looms ahead—a sanctuary of stone and secrets, its vaulted ceiling hidden in shadow.
The air grows colder still as I approach, carrying with it the scent of aged parchment and candle wax.
As children, Jason and I had claimed this library as our refuge.
Whenever the guards sought to drag me back to my studies, Jason would take my hand and lead me down the winding corridors.
Once, he’d brought me to a secluded corner bathed in the dim glow of a single candle.
The shadows wrapped around us like a cocoon, shielding us from the prying eyes of the castle’s ever-watchful inhabitants.
I remember the nervous tension tightening my body as we pressed together in the small, darkened space.
Footsteps echoed nearby, growing ever closer as a guard searched for us.
I had been on the verge of panic when a spider crept down my shoulder, its delicate legs sending shivers along my spine.
Just as a scream clawed its way up my throat, threatening release, Jason’s hand covered my mouth.
His touch was firm but gentle, and his steady eyes held mine, silently urging me to stay quiet until the threat passed.
When silence returned, Jason leaned closer, his breath brushing against my cheek. In the glow of the candlelight, his lips met mine—a fleeting, tentative kiss that sent a shock straight through me. It was my first kiss, and to this day, no other human had touched me like that.
The warmth of the memory stirs something within me, and I find myself smiling as I step into the library. My cheeks flush as I bite down on my lip to quell the rising giddiness. The girl I was then feels like a stranger now, but the memory remains as vivid as if it happened only moments ago.
The library greets me like an old confidant, the air heavy with the musk of ancient books and the lingering hint of extinguished lantern oil. Shadows dance across the towering shelves whose tomes bear the weight of forgotten stories and the quiet persistence of memory.
And there he is.
Perched on the edge of a sturdy oak table, buried in a book, Jason’s figure is both familiar and foreign.
Candlelight dances across his features, highlighting the lines of his jaw and the warmth in his eyes.
His sandy hair, slightly disheveled, falls just above his brow, lending him an effortless charm that makes my pulse quicken .
A beat of silence. His eyes lock onto mine, and the way his smile softens sends a rush of warmth through me. It’s him, and yet not him. The boy I once knew has been replaced by a man whose presence feels bigger, more commanding.
“I was beginning to think you wouldn’t show,” he teases, slowly setting the book aside. His voice is warm and familiar.
“And risk letting you defile our secret spot with your terrible taste in literature?” I retort, nodding toward the book he’s abandoned. “Never.”
Jason’s laugh is low and rich, like a melody I hadn’t realized I missed. He stands, closing the distance between us with measured steps, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Terrible taste?” he says, his tone mockingly wounded. “I seem to remember you sneaking one of my books out of here when the tutors were particularly insufferable.”
I arch a brow, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a smile just yet.
“I wasn’t sneaking. I was saving it from your appalling collection.”
He grins wider, his gaze sweeping over me as if he’s trying to reconcile the memory of the girl I was with the woman standing before him.
“You’ve changed,” he observes softly, the teasing giving way to something more serious.
“So have you,” I reply, my voice quieter, the banter softening. My eyes drift over as I take in the breadth of his shoulders, the confidence in his posture, the slight smirk that seems permanently etched into his features.
“Hmmm,” he hums in agreement, his eyes lingering on mine. Then, without preamble, he says, "I hear we are to be man and wife." He leans back casually against the edge of the table, almost daring me to respond.
I arch a brow, steadying myself as my mind whirls for the right words.
“I heard something similar,” I reply, my tone light but edged with teasing .
Jason chuckles softly, the sound warm and familiar.
“Looking back on our childhood, did you ever imagine this would happen?” I ask, the question slipping out before I can stop myself. It’s vulnerable, but I can’t help my lingering curiosity.
He tilts his head, his golden-brown eyes glinting with amusement.
“My father mentioned it would be a great opportunity to join the vampire royal family,” he says, grazing his fingertips over the book beside him with an air of nonchalance.
I narrow my eyes at him, my heart skipping at the casual way he says it.
“Oh, so it’s an opportunity, is it?”
Jason meets my gaze with that same playful smile, stepping away from the table before sidling up to me in one swift motion.
Then his knuckles brush against my cheek—light as breath—as he leans in, his mouth hovering near my ear.
His voice is a whisper, threaded with something dark, something knowing.
“Isn’t it?” he asks softly.
And just as slowly, he pulls back to look at me, his gaze dipping low as if reading every unspoken thought. He’s testing me, pushing just enough to see how far I’ll bend.
His eyes drop to my lips and my breath catches. It’s barely a sound, but it betrays me all the same. I don’t move, don’t speak, as his gaze lingers, taking in the rise and fall of my breath like he’s memorizing it. He watches me—patient, pleased, dangerous in how easily he reads me.
Our breaths mingle, the air crackling as my heart pounds traitorously in my chest. He’s so close it’s overwhelming, and I can feel the smirk at the edges of his mouth—he knows exactly what he’s doing.
He hums in quiet approval, a soft vibration that feels more intimate than words.
It’s the kind of sound that coils in the air and settles beneath the skin.
It’s as if I’ve passed some silent test I didn’t know I was taking.
Just as I steady myself, ready to meet his challenge, he pulls back.
I tilt my head, drawing breath like I’m lacing myself back into armor. The softness wavers, then vanishes—folded beneath a practiced smile and something seductive. Something controlled. Something that’s mine.
“Oh, I see,” I murmur, stepping forward to close the distance he just created.
My hands rest firmly on his chest as I guide him back with gentle pressure. He lets me, his body moving with mine, his smile curving slowly—teasing, amused, but not mocking. As if he’s enjoying the game far more than he should.
I lean in, my lips brushing just beneath his ear, the barest whisper of contact.
“If it’s an opportunity you seek,” I whisper, “then seek.”
Before he can react, my knee shoots up, connecting with his groin in one swift motion. Jason’s breath escapes in a hiss as he doubles over, collapsing to the ground. I step back, a triumphant smile playing on my lips.
Jason groans but soon begins to chuckle, his laughter deep and genuine as he lifts his head to look at me.
“You haven’t changed, have you?”
I shrug, a smug grin tugging at the corners of my mouth, watching him with a mixture of satisfaction and affection. “I didn’t think I needed to.”
Oh, did I forget to mention? The first time Jason kissed me, I kneed him in the groin too. Some lessons bear repeating—taking liberties without asking always comes with consequences.