Page 4 of Tower of Ash and Darkness (Tower of Ash #1)

“I am fun,” I say, sliding into the booth after her, casting a glance once more over my shoulder. Nothing. The sensation lingers, unsettled and stubborn, but I force my focus back to Sera.

She smirks. “You sure don’t look like it.”

“Maybe I prefer my fun to involve fewer witnesses. In case I choose to bury a body, as you so graciously suggested.”

Sera snorts as she leans back in her seat.

“Well, I prefer mine with music, drinks, and handsome strangers. Guess which one of us is going to win tonight?”

“Not the one who’s still talking about blending in,” I reply dryly.

Her grin widens, unbothered.

“Fine. But I’m still ordering whatever smells that good.”

Sera breathes in deeply, moaning with delight at the scent.

I glance over, spotting the source—a basket of roasted chestnuts gleaming under the lantern light, their rich, smoky aroma curling through the air.

Before I can respond, a tall woman with piercing blue eyes and golden hair approaches our table.

Her presence is commanding, and she surveys us with mild curiosity before speaking.

“What can I get for you, ladies?” she asks, her tone steady but friendly.

Sera brightens instantly. “Two ales,” she says without hesitation, glancing up at the barmaid standing before us.

The barmaid glances at me, waiting expectantly before tilting her head. “Anything else, then?”

Sera immediately turns to me, her wide blue eyes filled with exaggerated pleading, lips pressed into a soft pout as if she might simply waste away without another bite of food.

I sigh, rolling my eyes even as a laugh escapes me. “And the roasted chestnuts.”

Before I can say another word, Sera wraps her arms around me in a sudden, tight embrace.

“You are far too good to me,” she sighs dramatically, placing a quick, affectionate kiss on my temple, just above the edge of my mask.

The barmaid chuckles under her breath at Sera’s gushing, a knowing glint in her eyes.

“Best in the region,” she boasts, as if Sera needs further persuasion.

“Perfect,” Sera says, leaning back with a delighted sigh.

I slide four silver coins across the table, careful to keep my gloved hands low. “Thank you,” I say quietly.

The woman pockets the coins with a knowing nod and disappears into the crowd. As soon as she’s gone, Sera leans back in her seat with a contented sigh, her smile as bright as the tavern itself.

“This place is incredible,” she says, gesturing to the swirling dancers, the boisterous laughter, the warm light glinting off polished wood. “It’s so alive.”

“It’s loud,” I counter, my gaze darting around the room.

Sera groans, propping her chin on her hand. “Not everything has to be a battle, Lailah. Sometimes it’s nice to just enjoy life. You should try it.”

“I enjoy life just fine,” I reply. “Preferably when no one’s looking.”

“Too bad, because someone is looking,” Sera whispers, her tone turning playful as she tilts her head toward the bar.

My breath hitches. That feeling from earlier—the weight of unseen eyes—rushes back, intense and undeniable.

“What?” I ask, pulse quickening. Before I can stop myself, my gaze lifts, following the subtle tilt of her chin.

That’s when I see him.

Leaning against the bar with a presence that feels almost supernatural, he doesn’t just command the space—he bends it around him.

The dim lantern glow flickers over him like it, too, is caught in his gravity.

His broad shoulders stretch the fabric of his black shirt, the sleeves rolled just enough to reveal forearms inked in intricate patterns.

Even from across the room, I can tell he’s tall.

Towering. A presence meant to be noticed.

And, gods help me, I notice him.

It’s his face that snatches the breath from my lungs, his defined jawline kissed with stubble that only adds to his effortless, lethal beauty.

His dark hair—just unruly enough to look careless—curls slightly at the edges, creating a soft contrast that makes my fingers ache with the strangest, most reckless longing.

But it’s his eyes that ensnare me, that make my stomach drop as if I’m standing at the edge of a cliff, the ground unsteady beneath me.

They burn .

Not with warmth, not with anything remotely gentle, but with an intensity so consuming that it feels like they could strip me bare without ever touching me.

There’s something ancient in them, something dark, something that feels like a whispered warning.

But more than that—more than the peril that lingers there—I feel a pull.

Fierce. Familiar.

Like my soul already knows him. Like it’s been waiting.

“Lailah,” Sera sings, dragging my name out in a whisper filled with delight. “You’re staring. ”

I rip my gaze away, my heart pounding, my skin burning as though she’s just pulled me from a dream.

“I wasn’t?—”

“You were.” She grins, leaning closer, her blue eyes alight with mischief. “And honestly? I don’t blame you. He’s… gods.”

“Sera, stop,” I whisper, my stomach twisting at the thought that he might hear her. But the second I look back toward the bar, I know it’s too late.

He’s still watching me.

His smirk deepens—slow, deliberate, as if he knows exactly what he’s doing to me. As if he sees straight through me. Heat unfurls in my chest, creeping up my throat, impossible to ignore.

Sera doesn’t miss a thing.

“Oh, he’s definitely looking at you,” she murmurs, her grin widening as she props her chin on her hand. “You should go talk to him.”

“I can’t,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. My throat is dry, my pulse a frantic drumbeat in my ears.

The barmaid stops by our table, setting down the ales and the basket of chestnuts with an amused glance in our direction before slipping away. Sera wastes no time, plucking one from the basket and popping it into her mouth with a satisfied hum.

“Why not?” She leans in, her tone turning smug. “He’s staring at you like you’re the only thing in this room worth undressing.” She bites her lip, eyes flicking toward the bar with open admiration. “And judging by those arms…” She lets out a low, appreciative whistle. “I’d let him ruin me. Twice.”

“Sera!” My voice comes out sharp, every syllable laced with panic. “Stop it?—”

Her grin only widens, utterly shameless.

“What?” she says, popping another roasted chestnut into her mouth like this is all a game. “Maybe he’ll get the hint and come over here. Spare you the effort of sitting there looking like you’re about to combust. ”

I risk another glance, helpless against his gravity, and regret it instantly.

Dark amusement now flashes in his eyes. The way he tilts his head—just slightly, just enough to make my stomach twist—is damning.

He heard her. Every single crude, shameless word.

The air between us is taut, heavy with unspoken tension.

And then, so quietly I almost don’t catch it, he laughs.

It’s low, barely more than a ripple of sound, but it slides through the air, uncoiling like silk against bare skin.

My breath stutters, my fingers tightening around the edge of the table as I force myself to look away.

“This isn’t funny,” I murmur, trying—and failing—to steady my voice. “We’re not supposed to draw attention?—”

“Too late,” Sera interrupts, her voice full of wicked glee. “You’ve already got it. Congratulations, Lailah. You’ve seduced the most dangerous man in the room without lifting a finger.” She winks. “Must be nice.”

“I mean it,” I whisper, sharper this time. “We can’t afford to be seen.”

Sera leans in, her grin wicked. “Sweetheart,” she drawls, “there’s nothing invisible about you right now.”

Before I can respond, something shifts. The air itself seems to change, the energy of the tavern moving around me while I remain still, caught in the center of something I don’t understand.

I glance back toward the bar expecting to meet that same darkened gaze, but my breath catches in my throat.

He’s gone.

The spot where he stood just seconds ago is empty, as though he was never there.

My stomach twists. I scan the room, searching for any sign of him—his broad frame, the dark wave of his hair, the knowing smirk that set my pulse ablaze. But there’s nothing. Just the blur of bodies, the swirl of laughter, the rhythmic pulse of music.

My stomach twists. “Where did he go?” I whisper, more to myself than to Sera .

“What do you mean, where did he go ?” Sera sits up straighter, craning her neck to scan the room.

But the crowd has swallowed him whole. His presence, which felt so tangible just moments ago, has vanished entirely. And yet, somehow, I can still feel him. Like the ghost of a touch, like an echo in my bones.

Sera exhales dramatically, flopping back into her seat.

“Figures. The most beautiful man in the room, and he disappears like a ghost. Typical.”

I barely hear her. My mind is spinning, replaying every second of that encounter—the way his gaze had locked onto mine, the slow, measured tilt of his head, the undeniable pull that had left me breathless.

No one has ever looked at me like that before.

I sink back into the booth, my fingers trembling slightly as I press them into my lap, trying to ground myself. His absence is unbearable, heavy and unrelenting.

Sera sighs and pops another chestnut into her mouth.

“Maybe he wasn’t real,” she muses, chewing thoughtfully. “Like some kind of fever dream. A really, really attractive fever dream.”

I shake my head, barely able to find my voice. “He was real.”

And yet, as the tavern swells with life around me, I can’t shake the feeling that he’s still here. Hidden in the shadows.

Watching.

Waiting .