Page 54 of Tower of Ash and Darkness (Tower of Ash #1)

He spins me again, pulling me closer still, his lips grazing my ear .

"The last thing I wanted," he murmurs, nuzzling my neck, "was to want or need anyone," his whisper brushing against my skin.

His teeth graze my neck, a fleeting touch before he spins me outward, only to pull me back, my thigh slipping around his waist. As he dips me, the music fades, leaving only his voice and my pounding heart.

“But all I can think about is you.” His gaze meets mine, intense and magnetic, freezing the moment as time seems to hold its breath. He pulls me up slowly, drawing me into his embrace again.

“Your eyes, your laugh…” His voice dips into a whisper, each word like an unholy confession. “How I desire to be buried deep inside you…”

His words spark heat, my pulse quickening as my eyes meet his. My gaze drifts to his lips, tracing the unspoken desires I’ve long tried to bury.

"To live and breathe your fucking scent, to hear my name slip from your lips..."

My breath catches at the thought as his fingertips graze my collarbone, a touch so gentle it almost hurts.

"I never know what's real with you," I confess, my voice unsteady.

His jaw tightens as his burning gaze holds mine and he leans closer.

“It’s all real,” he says, his voice low but firm, the words heavy with conviction.

"Was she real too?" I ask, my voice trembling, tears in my eyes.

Casper's jaw clenches, pain shadowing his gaze as he softly shakes his head.

"And what about what you told my father—was that real?" I press, searching his eyes for truth.

I take a shaky breath, met only with silence.

“Then tell me,” I whisper, my voice trembling as I hold his gaze. “Be honest with me.”

A flicker of something unintelligible crosses his face. His eyes dart away for the briefest moment before locking back onto mine. The silence continues to stretch like a shield he refuses to lower, no matter how hard I try to break through.

"Why can’t you say something?" I press, stepping closer, my voice rising just enough to cut through the low hum of music around us. "If this is some game, some ploy, I deserve to know what part I play in it."

"Lailah…" he begins, his voice soft, strained, as if the truth is clawing at him from the inside. "It’s not that simple."

"Don’t," I snap, the shortness in my tone barely masking my anguish. "Don’t tell me it’s complicated. That woman—why is she here? Why are you pretending to be someone I know you’re not?"

"I thought you said we barely know each other," he counters softly.

"Then tell me," I demand, my voice cracking despite the strength I try to hold onto. Casper’s eyes flash with something—regret, hesitation, or maybe fear—but he doesn’t move.

"I can’t ," he says finally, his voice barely above a whisper. He exhales slowly, his composure cracking for the briefest of moments. "There are things I can’t explain."

"Can’t or won’t?" I challenge, my hands trembling against his.

Casper’s lips press into a thin line, and for a moment, I see the battle in his eyes—the desire to tell me everything thrashing against the chains of whatever holds him back.

"You don’t understand what you’re asking," he says, his voice heavy.

"Then make me understand," I plead, my voice breaking. "I can’t keep wondering what’s real and what’s just another mask."

Casper’s composure falters, a glimpse of the storm beneath.

"It’s not a mask," he says quietly, almost as if he’s trying to convince himself more than me.

"Isn’t it?" I counter.

The silence is deafening, his refusal louder than words. His shoulders tense as if he might walk away, but then he speaks, low and dire.

"Lailah, some truths destroy more than they save. "

"Then let that be my choice," I say, my voice trembling with anger and desperation.

His silence lingers, the ache in my chest morphing into anger. His gaze locks with mine, magnetic and unrelenting, pulling me closer despite my frustration. As I move toward him, a chill sweeps over me—a cruel reminder of where I am.

My father’s icy gaze cuts through the room, freezing me in place.

The tension thickens, the air charged, and I notice Jason nearby, hand outstretched, as if trying to break through the stillness.

Yet Casper remains unmoved, steady amidst the shift.

I step back, but it’s too late—the words I never wanted to say are already spilling out, uncontainable and damning.

"Fine," I snap, my voice breaking. "Whatever this is—it’s done. I’m in love with Jason. I always have been, and I always will be."

Casper flinches, his composure cracking.

"You don’t mean that," he murmurs.

I nod my head, my voice soft but firm.

"I guess we can both admit we don’t truly know each other’s desires after all."

The words leave my lips like poison, foreign and bitter. Casper stiffens, his gaze still locked on mine. His silence cuts deeper than I expected. He looks like a ghost of himself, wearing the same distant mask he wore with the dark-haired woman. My heart sinks.

“Please forgive me, Princess,” he murmurs.

I’ve heard that before.

Not just the title, not just the tone—but him , saying them. Another moment, another night, when his voice was just as heavy, just as unreachable. It pulls at me now like a thread caught in a fraying seam, unraveling everything I’ve tried to patch back together.

The dark-haired woman steps forward, her wicked smile a contrast to the ache twisting in my stomach.

She takes Casper’s hand, glancing at me with vicious delight before offering a mocking curtsy.

Casper’s gaze falters, shifting fully to her.

Without a word, they turn to Jason, who stands with his hand still outstretched to me.

I place my hand in his, sealing my fate. Jason leads me to the ballroom’s center, his grip firm, as the crowd begins to sway once more. The haunting melody of the vampire waltz fills the room, violins weaving a thread that binds us all in its intricate spell.

Yet, as the dance begins, I feel numb, my steps heavy with the sting of what I’ve done.

The world blurs at the edges, the lights too bright, the faces too far away.

My skin burns with the ghost of Casper’s touch, the way his fingers grazed mine in a silent plea I can’t forget.

The thought of what I’ve left behind weighs heavily on me, making it impossible to breathe.

Jason’s hand at my waist steadies me as he guides me into a smooth, sweeping turn.

“Lailah,” he murmurs, his voice soft, pulling me back into the present.

His steadiness contrasts with the chaos inside me, a calm I’m not sure I want to embrace. I glance up at him, my lips curving into a forced smile.

“You’re leading well.”

Jason’s gaze lingers on me, searching for something beneath the surface.

“I had a good teacher.” His words are tinged with nostalgia, a faint smile playing on his lips. The memory tugs at a thread deep within me, unraveling a scene from years ago.

I can almost see it—two children sneaking into the ballroom when no one was looking, the grand space feeling impossibly large and magical.

The polished floors seemed to stretch on forever, reflecting the light of chandeliers that felt like stars within our reach.

Jason’s laugh echoed through the empty room as he grabbed my hands, clumsily trying to mimic the steps we’d seen the nobles perform at banquets.

But even his warmth can’t thaw the chill spreading through me now, the ache of a choice I can’t undo.

The violins rise, and I spin under his arm, the world tilting as the crowd melts into a swirl of colors and motion.

But when Jason pulls me back into his embrace, the sensation shifts, reminding me of the reality I’ve chosen.

“You look…” His golden eyes flicker with something I can’t quite pl ace—a mixture of understanding and something deeper, more complicated. “I don’t deserve you”.

The words hang in the air mingling with the haunting strains of the violins.

I glance away, my gaze skimming the faces in the crowd, searching for an anchor to steady myself.

But the ache I feel only deepens, a knot of emotions I can’t unravel.

Jason, ever steady, fills the silence with deft movements, pulling me back into the moment as we sway and turn in rhythm with the music.

“Is there something between you and the king's shadow?” he asks.

My breath catches. I press my tongue to the roof of my mouth to keep it steady. My jaw tenses as I force the truth deep beneath the surface where even I can’t reach it.

“No,” I say softly. “There is nothing between us.”

The lie tastes bitter. No matter how much I try to deny it, the echo of Casper’s touch refuses to fade. Jason exhales, shame darkening his face. The chandeliers cast golden light over the ballroom, glinting in the marble floors as the crowd swirls around us.

"I’m a fool," Jason says, his voice low, regret woven into every syllable. "I’ve been cruel, dishonest… careless with you." It’s as if his own words are too much to bear.

His gaze flickers, seeking understanding, absolution—but there is nothing to steady him, nothing to undo what has already been done. His hands clench at his sides before he speaks again, softer now, almost broken.

"You deserve better. You always have. And I?—"

His hands clench once more, then release, as if releasing the burden of what he must say.

"I sent her away," he murmurs, the words quiet, but firm. Then, stronger, "She was never meant to be here. Never meant to matter." He steps closer, something almost desperate in the way moves. "She was a mistake—one I should have never allowed near us."

His gaze burns into mine, pleading, unrelenting.

"She is nothing, Lailah. She was always nothing."

My jaw tightens as I force myself to look beyond his shoulder, refusing to let his words sink in. They hover just out of reach, like a blade suspended above me, waiting to fall.