Page 32 of Tower of Ash and Darkness (Tower of Ash #1)

Heat rushes to my face, and my arms fold instinctively. A barrier I hope will keep him from seeing anything more.

“You presume too much,” I stammer.

“Do I?” he asks softly, as if daring me to argue.

My gaze falters, dropping to the floor as nerves coil tightly within me. I hesitate, then lift my eyes again—drawn back to him despite myself.

“Since you know so much about me,” I say, tilting my head, “then surely it’s only fair I know something about you.”

I pause, drawing out the silence just long enough to feel intentional.

“Or do you always lurk in the shadows, waiting for opportunities you can’t resist?”

The words come out harsher than I intend, but I don’t soften them. If he’s going to dig into me, then he can stand to be questioned too.

He steps back slowly, keeping his eyes locked on mine.

“What would you like to know, Princess?” he asks.

I smile as I lean casually against the balcony railing.

“How old are you?” I blurt the words out before I can stop myself.

Casper’s grin widens slowly as his lips curl to reveal the faintest hint of his elongated fangs. Warmth stirs low in my stomac h

“How old do you think I am?”

It’s a game, I know—one that vampires love to play, forcing mortals to stumble through guesses about their age as though it’s some grand mystery to be solved. I tilt my chin defiantly, unwilling to take the bait.

“I’m not playing that game,” I counter, my tone firm but light.

I turn toward the balcony railing, looking out onto the moonlit garden below. The soft glow of the night wraps around me, offering a fleeting sense of calm. My gaze shifts back to him, searching his face as if the truth might already be written there.

“Where do you come from?” I ask, unsure of how much I truly want to know.

He studies me, a flash of something deeper behind his eyes that I can’t quite decipher.

“Here.”

“Astral?”

“Yes,” he answers coolly.

“But this kingdom was ruled by humans until recently.” A question teeters on the edge of my tongue, slipping free before I think better of it.

“How could you?—”

The words catch in my throat. His eyes flash, a knowing glint cutting through the dim light, and his lips twitch into the faintest hint of a smirk.

“You’re wondering how I could have grown up in human territory,” he says after a pause. The ease with which he seems to read my mind makes my skin prickle. “How someone like me could walk among them, live among them—survive them.”

The thought twists in my chest, a strange mix of guilt and intrigue. Humans ruled Astral for centuries, their reign absolute, until it ended in ash and darkness. My ash. My darkness. The memories make my stomach churn, bile rising as I try to push them aside.

“You must have been...” I pause, my voice faltering as I struggle to find the words. “It couldn’t have been easy.”

“Easy?” His voice carries a bitter edge, though his expression remains composed.

“Humans rarely make anything easy for those they fear or don’t understand.

They see what they want to see—monsters in the dark, myths in the unknown.

But I learned to adapt, to blend in.” He leans slightly closer, his tone dropping.

“You’ve lived a life surrounded by shadows, Princess.

It’s easy to forget what lurks within them. ”

My fingers twitch at my sides, the urge to press him for more clawing at me, but the look in his eyes warns me against it. The thought coils even tighter in me, my curiosity and unease growing with every beat of silence.

The humans’ rule over Astral left little room for vampires to thrive, let alone procreate. During that time, most vampire bloodlines faded into obscurity, weakened or extinguished entirely. The few who survived relied on turning others—a risky, desperate process that rarely ended well.

The transition was brutal. Most who were turned perished in agony, their bodies rejecting the change in violent, unforgiving ways.

When King Clyde rose to power, he outlawed the practice entirely.

No one could be turned without his permission—a rare thing to grant—and even then, most who attempted it didn’t survive.

The idea that Casper grew up in Astral under those conditions doesn’t make sense.

He had to have been one of the rare few who survived being turned—or he had a family.

A vampire birth under human rule was almost unheard of, rare enough to be considered sacred.

It would mean his bloodline was strong enough to endure, to defy the odds.

And yet, here he stands, a contradiction to everything I thought I knew.

“This kingdom holds more secrets than you think, Princess,” he adds, his voice almost a whisper, like he’s letting me in on something that shouldn’t be shared.

The implication makes my chest tighten, but I push forward.

“Your family—are they still…” I trail off, unsure how to phrase the question without sounding too intrusive.

His gaze suddenly grows distant, like he’s sifting through memories he doesn’t want to revisit. Then he looks back at me, his expression softer, vulnerability slipping through the cracks of his usual calm.

“No,” he says finally, almost like a confession. “My mother died when I was young.”

He pauses, and I see something flicker in his eyes—a shadow of grief that hasn’t faded with time. “She was my only family.”

The sharp edge of his usual demeanor dulls. For a moment, it feels like he’s let me see a part of him he keeps hidden from the rest of the world.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

It feels small, insignificant compared to everything he’s shared, but it’s all I can offer in this fragile space. Casper nods slightly, his expression blank, but there’s a softness in his eyes now, something that tells me he’s not as untouched as he wants me to believe.

“It’s in the past,” he replies, his voice tinged with a quiet sorrow. The distance in his tone speaks volumes, like he’s long since made peace with the hurt, but it still lingers.

I hesitate, my genuine curiosity gnawing at me.

“Why do you stay, then?” The words escape before I can stop them, more direct than I intended. I hesitate, then soften my voice, trying again. “Why not go somewhere else and begin anew?”

He looks at me, his gaze steady.

“Why do you stay?”

The question catches me off guard. I glance away, eyes sweeping the quiet around us, my arms curling in gently, like I’m trying to hold something steady inside myself. My brows knit, caught between what I feel and what I can’t bear to say.

“Because I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

There’s a vulnerability in my voice, raw and unintentional, but it feels like the truth. Casper studies me for a long moment, his lips pressing into a faint line. Then, his voice breaks the silence, steady but layered with something deeper.

“Then I suppose we have more in common than you think.”

His clarity catches me off guard. The noise from the throne room fades into the background, and for a fleeting moment, the world feels smaller, quieter—just the two of us on the balcony, sharing something neither of us can fully name.

“Is there anything else, Princess?” His voice dips low as he steps closer.

I hesitate, the quickening of my pulse betraying the calm I try to hold.

The distance between Casper and I feels suffocatingly small, and yet I make no move to widen it.

My gaze locks on his, the dark intensity of his eyes keeping me frozen.

Slowly, my focus drifts to his mouth, where his breath stirs the charged air.

When he leans closer, the faint warmth of his breath brushes against my lips. A tightness curls deep within me, and I find myself leaning into the stillness, my defenses slipping, drawn into his gravity.

The spell breaks abruptly with the crash of shattering glass from the ballroom.

I flinch, my eyes snapping open as I instinctively step back at the sound, the fragile tension dissipating.

The weight of his presence lifts just enough for me to catch my breath.

His expression doesn’t change, his piercing gaze steady as if the interruption were a nuisance, nothing more.

The subtle shift in his posture—his shoulders tightening, his jaw clenching—sets me on edge.

Needing distance, I turn and move to the edge of the balcony, my gloved fingers brushing the cold stone.

The climbing vines curl around the railing, their delicate purple flowers glowing faintly in the moonlight, their scent a soothing balm against the nerves still coiling inside me.

I trace their fragile shapes, grounding myself in their softness as I draw in slow, deliberate breaths.

One inhale.

One exhale.

Each breath stretches longer, loosening the knot in my chest.

But before I can fully compose myself, I feel him again—closer this time.

I turn, my breath catching as his hand lifts, his fingers brushing my skin with a softness that feels too intimate. He tucks a stray lock of hair behind my ear, the gesture so simple yet so tender. I can’t move, can’t think—I can only feel this moment, fragile and consuming.

“I am to be wed,” I say, my words breaking through the fragile tension like a jagged stone shattering still water.

Casper’s hand lingers for just a moment too long, and then he steps back, his eyes locked on mine—steady, intense. The night air grows thicker and heavier, and his gaze remains unrelenting, as though he’s knocking down walls I’ve spent years building.

“And is this what you want?”

The words strike something deep, and I go still . No one has ever asked me that.

“It’s what’s expected,” I say, but even I can hear my voice falter, my hesitation betraying me.

“Expected,” he repeats, the word dripping with disdain, like it tastes bitter on his tongue. He takes another step closer, looming over me like a shadow. “What do you expect, Princess?”

I draw in a shaky breath, trying to steady myself.

“This marriage is my duty,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. “It’s not about me.”

“Isn’t it?” he counters.

His words twist something deep inside me.

“Jason is a good man,” I say, my voice firmer now. The words taste like ash on my tongue, bitter and hollow, unraveling even as I speak them.

He takes another step closer, his eyes darkening.

“You and I both know that’s a lie.”

The statement hits me like a blow, and I feel the air shift.

“You barely know me—or him.”

“I know enough,” he says. “I know Jason isn’t the man you think he is.”

The truth of his words cuts deep, though I fight against it, my stomach twisting with a mixture of anger and fear.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, shaking my head, but the tremor in my voice betrays me. “How could you possibly know? ”

Casper steps even closer, and I feel the sting of tears at the corners of my eyes.

“Why are you saying this?” I whisper, my voice trembling.

Casper’s eyes soften, but his intensity doesn’t. He reaches out, his hand curling around mine, pressing it to his chest. Beneath my palm, his heart pounds, quick and erratic, a mirror of the storm building between us.

"Because you deserve someone who truly sees you," he murmurs, softly, reverently. "Someone who chooses you—not out of duty or expectation, but because their soul could never bear to choose anything else."

His words steal the breath from my lungs, and I feel his warmth beneath my hand.

“I barely know you,” I whisper, the confession slipping as my voice trembles.

“You’ve known him longer, but do you really know him?”

Casper leans closer, his free hand lifting, the backs of his knuckles grazing my cheek. The touch is impossibly light, igniting something inside me. He’s so close now, his warmth wrapping around me, suffocating and exhilarating all at once.

“Tell me you don’t feel this,” he whispers, his voice low and intimate, the challenge in his tone daring me to deny the truth.

My breath catches, and I search for words, for some way to push him back. But the fire in his gaze makes it impossible to lie.

“I can’t,” I whisper, my voice breaking, the admission unguarded and real.

Casper’s eyes darken as though something is unraveling within him. The air crackles, and he leans in, his face so close that I feel the heat of his breath against my skin.

“I think we both know you can,” he murmurs, his voice hungrier. “Because you do. ”

The pull is unbearable, drawing me toward him despite every rational thought telling me to turn away. My heart races, my hold on him tightening as if he’s the only thing keeping me from falling apart .

“ Lailah, ” he whispers, my name a plea on his lips, his voice heavy with something deeper than desire.

His eyes search mine with an intensity too strong to bear. But before either of us can speak, the moment shatters with a voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

“Ghost.”

The single word is cold, commanding, and unmistakable. I whip around to see my father stepping onto the balcony, his presence casting a shadow that feels heavier than the night itself. His gaze lands on Casper, pointed and paralyzing, before flicking briefly to me.