Page 41 of Tower of Ash and Darkness (Tower of Ash #1)
LAILAH
I had spent most of the day in my rooms after returning from the library, waiting for Sera to arrive and help me prepare for the engagement dinner. When she finally did, her attention wasn’t on the feast, but on readying me for my wedding night.
Sera’s focus was steadfast as she meticulously prepared me, ensuring I was "properly groomed.
" The conversation about removing all my body hair—leaving me completely smooth—was one I never imagined having.
To Sera, it was simply part of her duty as both my best friend and handmaiden.
To me, it was a stark reminder of the reality I was being forced to face: the consummation of my marriage to Jason.
The preparations felt invasive, each step stripping away a piece of myself and leaving me exposed.
Sera’s hands were gentle but efficient, her wit softened by a genuine care as she talked me through what was to come.
Her words were blunt but honest, explaining in detail the expectations of the wedding night.
I listened carefully, even though I already understood the mechanics of consummation.
What I hadn’t prepared for was the reality of facing Jason after what I’d seen.
I had always known about his past lovers—court gossip had made sure of that—but I had foolishly believed that once we were engaged, once I was his, he wouldn’t want anyone else.
That he wouldn’t betray me. Seeing his hands on another woman during our engagement shattered that belief entirely.
But now it wasn’t just the betrayal that unsettled me—it was the kiss.
Facing him now meant remembering the way his lips had claimed mine in the library.
A kiss that awakened everything I had buried.
It wasn’t just desire—it was every memory, every echo of the boy I once loved.
And for a moment, I believed him. Believed in us.
Now I don’t know what sickens me more—his infidelity or the fact that some part of me still longs to believe he wants only me.
He had me in name, in promise, yet it hadn’t been enough.
And now I was expected to let him claim me tomorrow night, as if his actions could simply be erased.
When Sera finished, her voice softened, and she looked at me as though searching for some trace of calm.
But the sickness remained, a twisting knot of fury and revulsion.
The idea of consummation felt tainted, knowing the hands meant to touch me tomorrow had already strayed elsewhere.
I stayed in my rooms far longer than I should, unwilling to face the evening ahead.
The day had drained me, and the thought of stepping into the throne room, surrounded by laughter and celebration, felt suffocating.
But I had no choice. My father’s pride, my engagement, my position—they all demanded my presence.
When I finally stepped into the grand hall, the air was thick with music and movement. The vampire court shimmered beneath gilded chandeliers, the dance floor a blur of crimson silks and shadowed smiles.
I moved slowly, each step pulling me toward the elevated dais where my father’s seat loomed like a throne carved from night itself. My place waited beside him—ornate, and cold.
As I passed beneath the arched entryway, my gaze drifted—drawn not to the dancers, but to the alcove near the wine table, where decanters of dark vintage bled into crystal goblets.
Lucas stood there, grinning, his arm slung loosely around Sera’s waist as she laughed behind her hand.
They looked untouched by all of this—by duty, by masks, by everything that made me feel like I couldn’t breathe .
His eyes found mine across the room, gleaming with mischief and warmth, as if nothing had changed between us. As if I wasn’t wearing a crown made of ash and expectation. And for a moment, I envied them—not just their laughter, but the freedom that allowed it.
And then, like a flame flickering to life, a pair of dark green eyes surface in my thoughts.
Casper.
I don’t want to think about him, but he’s there, lingering at the edges of my mind like a shadow I can’t escape.
The memory of how he made me feel—untethered, like I could finally breathe—slips in before I can stop it.
It’s fleeting, but it’s enough. Enough to make my chest tighten, enough to make my eyes instinctively search the room.
I scan the dark corners, hoping for a glimpse of him. His absence is heavy, the chasm vast and unbearable. And yet, I long for him—crave how he made me feel seen and safe in a way I had never known, never dared to want.
Jason’s sudden movement pulls me from my thoughts.
“Dance with me,” he commands, extending his hand with an air of authority, leaving no room for refusal.
I hesitate for a brief moment, glancing toward the throne, at the man seated atop it, cloaked in power. My father’s eyes meet mine, and he nods, an expectant smile tugging at his lips. I hold his gaze before turning to Jason, still standing with his arm outstretched.
I smile, not out of desire but out of duty, and place my hand in his.
He guides me toward the heart of the marble floor, his touch steady, as though offering silent reassurance.
The crimson fabric of my gown shifts with each step, parting just enough to reveal more of my skin.
I catch his eyes trailing over me before his jaw tightens, restraint flashing across his face.
When we reach the floor, Jason leans closer, his voice soft and warm.
“You look beautiful tonight, Lailah. Breathtaking, actually.”
“Thank you,” I reply quietly, my tone betraying none of the turmoil brewing inside me .
His hand rests lightly on the small of my back as he leads me into the first steps of the dance.
“Are you nervous for tomorrow?” he asks after a beat, his voice low, careful, almost hesitant.
I don’t respond, my gaze fixed somewhere over his shoulder, my body moving with his purely out of obligation. Jason exhales softly, the sound barely audible, but I can feel the frustration simmering beneath his calm exterior.
“It must be nice having Lucas here,” he observes, his voice softer, as though trying to coax me into speaking.
I nod once, curt and dismissive, the silence growing heavier with each passing second. His grip on my waist shifts, his fingers pressing just a little more firmly, as though grounding himself.
“Are you even going to look at me?”
The question hits hard, and my gaze snaps to his.
For the first time since he kissed me, I truly look at him—at the golden warmth of his eyes, now tinged with regret, at the subtle tightness in his jaw that betrays the weight he’s carrying.
His brows draw together as if he feels the full brunt of my hurt, and his jaw clenches, the slightest hint of shame breaking through his composure.
“Lailah,” he breathes, his voice cracking under the strain of the moment. The way he looks at me—it’s almost enough to make me falter. Almost.
The doors to the throne room creak open, and the sound pulls my attention away from him like a lifeline. My breath catches in my throat as my gaze shifts, drawn instantly to the man entering the room.
Casper .
He moves like a shadow given form, a darkened prince of the night whose every movement speaks of peril.
His satin tunic, slightly parted at the collar, reveals the edge of a tattoo that seems to whisper of secrets too perilous to know.
The thick, heavy sole of his boots echoes through the hall with each step, a cadence that seems to hush the room as his presence fills it.
His dark hair, pushed back in perfect disarray, frames his clenched jaw.
And then, his eyes—deep green and smoldering—find mine, and the breath leaves my lungs.
It’s like being caught in a snare I can’t escape, though I don’t want to. A fleeting ache burns through me. It’s as if my body is bound to his by an invisible thread, pulled toward him without my permission. But before I can take a step toward him, his hand lifts, entwined with another’s.
A woman steps forward at his side, and the air in the room seems to shift around her.
She is striking, with sun-kissed bronze skin that glows under the chandeliers, smooth and unblemished like polished gold.
Her sleek, dark brown hair falls in a gleaming curtain down her back, catching the light with every movement she makes.
Her narrowed gaze sweeps across the room as though she’s evaluating everyone in it and finding them lacking.
Her dress is as commanding as her presence, a sleek, fitted gown of deep black silk that clings tightly to her figure.
The neckline plunges just enough to be daring without losing its elegance, while the cut of the dress accentuates her curves with precision.
High slits run along either side of the gown, revealing the smooth expanse of her thighs as she walks, her every movement fluid.
The fabric shimmers faintly, adding to the impression that she belongs to the shadows she seems to command.
I feel something stir deep within me as I watch her, a woman whose presence at Casper’s side is too easy, too natural. An unsettling sensation takes root, spreading like cold fingers that grip and tighten, leaving me aching.
As if she belongs there—not just by his side, but in his world. It feels as though she’s claiming something I’ve never even had the courage to ask for.
As if sensing the shift in my mood, Jason pulls me closer, his hold firm and grounding, but it does nothing to ease the cold that’s settled in my bones.
Casper looms at the edge of the room, his gaze darting briefly to mine before sliding away, as if I were nothing more than a passing thought. It stirs something shameful deep within me, a flush rising rapidly to my cheeks.