Page 31 of Tower of Ash and Darkness (Tower of Ash #1)

LAILAH

T he engagement ball was a masterclass in opulence, designed to dazzle and intimidate in equal measure.

The banners of black and gold hung proudly from the high walls, a stark reminder of my father’s dominion.

Below them, the grand hall shimmered in shades of champagne, an elegant contrast that softened the room’s severity without diminishing its grandeur.

Tall, gilded candelabras lined the walls, their flames casting a warm glow over the polished marble floor.

The chandeliers overhead sparkled like constellations, refracting light onto the silk-draped tables adorned with delicate arrangements of cream roses and golden lilies.

Everywhere I looked, there was an air of perfection—luxury laid out in meticulous detail, meant to impress the vampires and humans alike who had gathered here.

The music was hauntingly beautiful, a melody spun from violins and cellos that seemed to echo from another time. Vampires danced in pairs, their movements fluid and mesmerizing, each turn and step effortless. They were creatures of elegance, their ageless beauty both captivating and unnerving.

At the edges of the room, humans lingered, their postures tense and their faces carefully composed.

These were the brave—or desperate—few who had dared to attend, hoping to curry favor or forge alliances.

The guards, clad in black armor etched with golden insignias, stood silently at their posts, their eyes scanning the crowd.

Tradition dictated that on the night of the engagement ball, the vampires would begin their hunt. Not for blood, but for seduction. It was said to be a rite of passage, a dark and sacred ritual that blurred the lines between danger and pleasure.

But no one came for me.

No whispered promises. No lingering stares.

Just space carved around me like a boundary none dared cross.

I was not a woman to be seduced; I was my father’s weapon draped in satin.

They feared the consequences of touching what belonged to him.

I could feel it in the way the room shifted around me, like I was something unwanted, not for lack of allure, but because I was already possessed by something far more terrifying than lust.

My crimson gown, chosen by Sera but dictated by my father, clings tightly to every curve. With satin that shimmered like blood under the chandelier’s light, it was bold, commanding, and impossible to ignore. It was the very image of what my father wanted me to be—untouchable, a symbol of power.

But I felt none of that.

I linger on the edge of the room, watching the dancers swirl and spin to the music.

The violins carry a haunting melody that seems to make time slow, and the couples on the ballroom floor move in perfect harmony, every step deliberate and poised.

It is beautiful, mesmerizing even, but I can’t bring myself to step closer.

Instead, I stand apart, a shadow in the periphery, a ghost haunting my own celebration.

My gaze drifts to Lucas and Sera. Lucas, ever kind and effortlessly charming, twirls Sera around the floor.

His hands rest securely at her waist as he lifts her, spinning her until her hair fans out like sunlight breaking through clouds.

Her laughter rings out, free and vibrant, cutting through the hum of conversation like a burst of warmth in the otherwise stifling room.

They are wild and utterly free in a way I can never be.

I don’t know if the ache I feel is for them or for what they represent—something untamed, something I’ll never touch.

The music shifts, slowing into a more intimate rhythm, and the dancers move closer, their steps softer now, their bodies swaying together as though the world beyond the hall had ceased to exist. The shift makes the air in the room more oppressive.

I can feel the stares, even if I don’t see them, the unspoken expectations coiling around me like vines.

I couldn’t breathe.

Turning quickly, I slipped through the open balcony doors, the cool night air brushing against my skin.

The sudden silence outside was jarring, but welcome.

Below, the garden stretched out like something from a dream.

The moonlight bathed the hedges and flowers in silver, softening their edges, and the fountain at the center glowed faintly as water spilled over its stone lip.

The gentle sound of the fountain was calming, steady, offering a fragile sense of peace to the unrest coiled tight in my chest.

I lean against the stone railing, the chill seeping into my palms. Out here, beneath the open sky, I almost forget the room behind me—the burden of being seen and not seen, of existing in a space that never truly belonged to me.

But peace, like everything else in my life, is fleeting.

The air shifts behind me, a subtle change that makes my breath catch. The scent reaches me first—a mix of leather and something faintly sweet. I don’t need to look to know who it is. My body tenses, my fingers tightening on the railing as he closes in.

“ Casper. ” My voice remains steady and quiet despite my racing heart.

He doesn’t reply right away. Instead, he steps closer, his chest brushing my shoulder, his hand hovering above the railing beside mine.

“Out here all alone?” He isn’t teasing me exactly, but the question makes a chill run through me all the same.

I turn slightly toward him. The light spilling from the ballroom frames him in gold, softening his features, but his eyes still hold a shrill note that’s impossible to ignore .

“I could ask you the same.”

His lips broaden into the faintest of smiles at my reply, but I hardly notice.

My mind has already begun to wander. This isn’t the first time we’ve found ourselves like this—alone, separated from the noise of the world.

He looks at me now the way he did in the woods, like he’s searching for something only I can give him.

We always seem to meet like this, drawn to each other by some invisible thread. It’s unsettling how he can find me even when I try to disappear, how I can never decide whether I want him closer or farther away.

“You disappear quite often,” I mutter, more to myself than to him.

He steps closer, his presence more overwhelming now.

“You’re quite good at it yourself.”

A soft smile pulls at my lips. He’s right. Twice he’s vanished on me, and twice I’ve walked away from him. A pattern neither of us seems willing to break.

“It doesn’t feel the same,” I say, my voice softer now as I look up into his eyes.

His gaze doesn’t leave mine, and for a brief moment, I wonder if he’s holding his breath, waiting for me to say something more.

“And what feeling is that?” he asks, like he needs me to say it, like he needs to know.

I search his eyes, their intensity unsettling me, making my pulse quicken. They flick down to my lips, and my breath catches as he almost imperceptibly, but unmistakably, clenches his jaw as if to show a modicum of restraint.

“What do you feel, Princess?” he asks, his voice rough, dropping lower as he leans closer.

My chest tightens.

“Nothing.” My voice is barely more than a whisper now.

He hums softly as he leans back, the sound stirring an unwanted warmth low in my stomach. I hate how easily he can fluster me.

“I think you feel far more than you’ll ever let yourself admit,” he says .

My shoulders go still. I don’t respond right away. I don’t know how to. But as my brows draw together, something inside me falters.

“Careful, vampire,” I say delicately. “You look at me as though you’ve forgotten who I am.”

His smile widens just slightly, just enough to reveal the dimple on his cheek.

“Forgotten?” he counters, with a quiet confidence that makes my stomach twist. “No, I know exactly who you are.”

I turn to face him fully, my heart pounding.

“We’ve only known each other a short time,” I say, keeping my voice steady, defensive but controlled.

He tilts his head, stepping closer.

“Do you think meeting you implies I don’t already know things about you?”

My cheeks burn at the insinuation.

“Or,” he continues, quieter now, almost intimate, “that I haven’t seen you more than once?”

“So you presume to know me just because you’ve seen me as others have?” I say at last, almost fragile. “I am a princess, Casper. Everyone has seen me.”

He pauses, his gaze unwavering as it meets mine.

“No,” he says softly. “I don’t believe anyone truly sees you.”

Those eyes hold me captive, leaving no space for anything but truth. In that moment, the world around us blurs and vanishes. The cool candor in his words and his unyielding stare overwhelm me, as though I’ve been caught in a spider’s web.

“And what do you see?” I ask hesitantly, clinging to a facade that keeps slipping through my fingers.

He studies me, slowly drinking in every inch of me. His eyes linger on mine, then drop to my lips before settling on my gloved hands. His jaw tightens as he looks at them, something unreadable flashing in his expression before he meets my eyes again.

“I know no one has seen you without your gloves.”

Embarrassment prickles at the back of my neck, and I take a small step back, trying to create just enough distance to steady myself. My hands twitch at my sides as I force a response, keeping my voice light.

“Maybe I get cold.” I say with a slight shrug, raising my chin in mock defiance.

His lips curve into a slow, knowing smile, and there’s a glint of playfulness in his eyes.

“Cold?” he asks. “I don’t think that’s it.” His gaze drops to my hands again before returning to my face. “No, those aren’t gloves—they’re armor, aren’t they, Princess?”

My breath catches in my throat, his words knocking down my carefully built walls. He’s not teasing—he’s deadly serious.

“I wonder what secrets you hide from those who wish to see you,” he says, dripping with an almost sultry intensity.