Page 47 of Tower of Ash and Darkness (Tower of Ash #1)

CASPER

V anessa trails behind me, her steps slow and unsteady, like a predator drunk on its kill.

Her arousal hangs in the air, thick and cloying, mingling with the remnants of my bite.

I can smell it as clearly as I can feel the lingering effects of her blood humming in my veins.

It burns through me, a heady mix of heat and power that claws at my restraint, demanding more.

My fangs throb, still aching to sink into soft flesh, to take and take until the hunger fades. But it’s not Vanessa’s blood that lingers in my thoughts.

Lailah’s scent clings to me, faint but undeniable, cutting through the haze.

That intoxicating mix of sweetness and bitterness—like ripe fruit laced with something acidic, something darker—has embedded itself in my senses.

It isn’t just her scent, though. It’s the way her emotions hit me all at once, an overwhelming rush that no amount of distance can dull.

She looked betrayed.

That thought pierces through the lingering euphoria, carving away the edges of my high until all that’s left is the deep ache it leaves behind. I hadn’t dared to look at her, not directly.

But gods, I had felt her. Felt the silence between us tighten like a noose as Vanessa swayed into me, pressing her body against mine.

I had felt the disbelief, the confusion, the jealousy tangled in her gaze.

But beneath it all, there had been something else—something primal and impossible to ignore.

The sharp tang of it had hit me like a blow, mingling with the bitterness of jealousy until I could no longer separate the two. My senses are too attuned to every subtle tremor of her body’s betrayal. She couldn’t hide it. Not from me.

And that only made it worse.

Vanessa hums softly behind me, the sound low and sultry, savoring the remnants of her high.

Her satisfaction radiates off her in waves, like a perfume too strong to ignore.

The sway of her hips, the teasing way her fingers brush against her own neck, speaks volumes about how much she enjoyed the performance.

It was just a performance, I remind myself.

But the way Lailah looked at me makes it feel like anything but.

We reach the campgrounds, the flickering firelight casting long shadows across the tents.

Alias and Gwyn’s voices rise and fall in bursts, their endless arguments cutting through the night like jagged edges.

Callum and Malachi sit near the fire, their eyes lifting to meet mine as I approach.

They don’t speak, but their expressions are enough to tell me what they’re thinking.

You reek of it , they’re saying without words. You reek of her .

They’re right. Her scent is still on me, a heady reminder of what I’ve done, but it’s the ghost of Lailah’s presence that lingers most.

I move toward my tent, and Malachi rises to block the entrance before Vanessa can follow. His massive frame fills the space, a silent wall of authority that even she won’t challenge easily.

“Malachi,” Vanessa purrs, her tone honeyed but edged with irritation. “You’re not really going to keep me out, are you?”

Malachi doesn’t respond, his expression carved from stone.

Vanessa huffs softly, her enjoyment fading as she crosses her arms.

“Honestly, you’re worse than him. ”

The corner of my mouth twitches, but I don’t allow the smirk to form. I turn back, my voice clipped.

“Let her through.”

Malachi hesitates, his dark eyes searching mine before stepping aside. Vanessa slips past him, her gaze lingering on him briefly before turning to me. She moves with grace, her every step calculated to draw my attention, but I’ve already crossed to my desk.

My hands brace against the cool wood, grounding me as I stare at the plans laid out before me.

The lines and symbols blur together, remnants of what I’ve done clouding my mind.

I feel Vanessa’s presence behind me, the air thickening with her scent, her emotions brushing against my heightened senses.

“You’ve been quiet,” she says softly, her voice teasing. Her hands settle on my shoulders, trailing down my arms with intentional slowness. “That’s not like you, Cas.”

I say nothing, my grip on the desk tightening as her touch stirs the restlessness already rising in me.

“Did you see her?” Vanessa whispers, her voice dropping lower. “The way she looked at you?”

The mention of Lailah sends a jolt through me, cutting through the haze Vanessa’s blood has left behind. My jaw clenches, my fangs pressing against my lower lip as anger flares hot and fast.

“Enough.”

Vanessa chuckles, her fingers tightening briefly before sliding away.

“Oh, but it’s true, isn’t it?” she presses. “She’s jealous. She hates me. And yet, she can’t take her eyes off you.”

Her words hit their mark, igniting a spark of anger that flares hotter than I expect. Before I realize what I’m doing, I grab her wrists and shove her back against the desk. The wood creaks beneath the force, but she doesn’t flinch. Her eyes glint with satisfaction.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” I growl, my grip tightening as I lean closer. “You think this is a game?”

Her voice drops to a sultry whisper. “Isn’t it?”

The urge to crush that smirk burns inside me. My fingers tighten around her wrists, and I consider letting the anger consume me. But I release her instead, stepping back as frustration surges through me.

“Get out.” My chest heaves as I try to steady my breathing.

Her gaze lingers, challenging me, and then, with precision, her hands move to the straps of her dress.

She slips them off her shoulders, the fabric sliding slowly down her body.

The sound of the dress pooling at her feet is deafening, her bare skin kissed by the dim light of the tent.

She stands there, exposed and unapologetic.

“I said, get out,” I repeat, my voice low, cutting through the air like a warning.

She tilts her head, a playful smile tugging at the corner of her lips, a purposeful sway in her hips as she steps closer.

“Do you want me?” she whispers, her voice barely audible, her body an invitation.

Her words sink in, twisting something dark inside me. I don’t move. My patience is worn thin, fraying at the edges. Vanessa stands there, a living, breathing temptation—an easy distraction.

“Do you need me?” she whispers again, her fingers threading through her hair, pushing it back with slow motions that expose her collarbone, the curve of her neck—a calculated act meant to tempt me further.

My resolve snaps. My hand moves before I can think, tightening around her neck, my fingers pressing against her pulse. She lets out a low, deadly laugh—a sound that ignites something darker inside me, a savage urge to squeeze harder until that laugh fades into silence.

“I can be her, you know…” she murmurs, her hands trailing slowly up her torso.

She raises her hands to clasp my wrist, leaning closer, her breath ghosting over my skin.

“All you have to do is ask,” she breathes, her eyes locking onto mine, daring me to respond.

My fangs ache with the primal urge to sink into her. But she isn’t her . I tower over her as I lean closer, my lips brushing her ear. My voice is a low whisper.

"Get. Out. "

The words are scathing and final, my grip loosening as I step back. Vanessa tilts her head, studying me with mock curiosity, her confidence unshaken.

“If that’s what you want.”

She bends slightly, picking up her dress, her movements languid as she slips it back on, her eyes never leaving mine.

Every motion is a calculated taunt. She turns, slowly striding toward the tent flap, exaggerating the sway of her hips.

Just before leaving, she glances back over her shoulder, her lips curling into a knowing smile.

“You’ll change your mind,” she purrs.

The tent flap falls shut behind her, and silence envelops me. I lower myself onto the edge of the desk, pressing the heels of my hands against my eyes. Lailah’s scent still lingers in my mind, that bitter sweetness cutting through everything else, and I know there’s no escaping it.

No matter how much I try to convince myself otherwise, I’ve already lost.

The silence in the tent feels oppressive, the faint sounds of the camp outside muffled by my racing thoughts.

I rub my hands over my face, trying to banish the memory of Lailah's eyes, the way they burned with raw emotion. Shock, betrayal, jealousy, desire—they all tangled together in her scent, flooding my senses and stirring something deep inside me I don’t want to confront.

I stand abruptly, the tightness in my chest clawing to get out.

My steps are quick and heavy as I cross the tent to a basin of water, the cold bite barely registering as I plunge my hands into it.

The bloodlust still lingers, a faint hum beneath my skin, twisting with the remnants of Vanessa’s taste.

The water drips from my hands as I stare at my reflection in the small mirror propped against the far wall. My eyes are darker than usual, the hunger still simmering beneath the surface. My hair is slightly disheveled, my jaw tight, my face etched with exhaustion and frustration.

I barely recognize myself.

The sound of the tent flap opening pulls me from my thoughts.

I turn, expecting Vanessa to defy me and return, but instead, Callum steps inside, his gaze sweeping over the room before settling on me.

His dark hair brushes against his forehead, framing his eyes, their rich, shadowed depths betraying his ever-present edge.

He pauses, eyes darting briefly to the tub, then back to my face, taking in the water dripping from my hands and the rigidity of my frame.

Callum tilts his head slightly, his dark gaze narrowing as he studies me.

“It’s cold,” he says, his tone low and biting. He nods toward the tub, his expression as cutting as his words. “Thought you might need to cool off.”

He doesn’t wait for a reply. Instead, he takes another long look around the tent before turning to leave.