Page 79 of Tower of Ash and Darkness (Tower of Ash #1)

LAILAH

A fine mist begins to fall, soft yet persistent, mingling with the smell of damp earth and rain-soaked leaves.

Though the sun is hidden, its faint glow presses against the cloud cover, an ominous reminder that even vampires can walk beneath its muted gaze if they are determined enough.

The droplets cling to my cloak, beading on the fabric as I pull the hood over my head, shielding myself from the rain.

The camp’s muffled sounds fade behind me as I step beyond its edges.

It’s been hours since I last saw Jason. Long enough to wonder where he went—and why he hasn’t come back. I told myself he needed space, maybe time alone, but the longer the silence stretches, the more I find myself questioning. Not out of fear, but out of curiosity, sharp and persistent.

The distant roar of the river grows louder with each step, guiding me forward like a beacon.

The path is muddy, slick from the rainfall, and the occasional snap of a twig underfoot reminds me how far I’ve strayed from the safety of the camp.

I crouch low to the ground, my fingers sinking into the damp earth as I let my magic extend.

Tendrils of energy unravel from me, weaving into the landscape, searching for the path to the river .

My magic hums in response as it reveals the way forward.

Rain pelts harder now, turning the dirt beneath my boots into slippery mud as I reach the tree line. My magic recoils suddenly, snapping back to me with force. Something is ahead. Slowing to a cautious walk, I approach a large boulder with a narrow opening carved into its center.

I pull my hood down, glancing back to ensure I’m alone before slipping through the rocky passage.

The sound of rushing water growing louder as I navigate the winding path.

My chest tightens as faint sounds—a soft moan, a muffled sigh—drift from around the next bend.

My pulse quickens, dread and curiosity warring within me.

Jason is kneeling, his body pressed against the blonde servant whose back is arched against a moss-covered boulder.

Her hands are tangled in his hair, clutching him with a possessiveness that turns my stomach.

The moan that escapes her lips is one of shameless pleasure as she tilts her head back, her flushed face exposed to the muted sky above.

His head is bowed before her, the intimate proximity between them unmistakable, his hands gripping her thighs as if she’s the only thing grounding him.

The shock steals the air from my lungs. My stomach churns violently, nausea rising in a cold, unrelenting wave.

It isn’t just jealousy that grips me—it’s something colder, something that cuts deeper.

Betrayal . Whatever feelings I might have harbored for him are now buried beneath layers of it and indifference.

I step back, retreating silently, only to collide with a solid figure. My breath catches, and I turn to find myself face-to-face with evergreen eyes.

“Hello, Princess.”

The word, spoken like a private endearment, sends a shiver through me.

Even under this indirect sunlight, his restraint is remarkable, despite what must be an uncomfortable burn.

The sun’s muted rays don’t sear his skin, but they sting—like a constant throb of pain that would send most vampires retreating into shadows.

I step back instinctively, but his hand darts out, grasping my wrist with surprising gentleness.

My scarred wrist. I hadn’t even realized I’d left without the gloves.

My heart stutters as my eyes drop to his fingers, wrapped securely around the marks I always hide.

Tears prick at the corners of my vision.

No one touches my hands. No one ever wants to.

His expression shifts, concern flickering in his eyes, but there’s something else there too—curiosity, tenderness, and perhaps even a quiet defiance of the boundaries I’ve tried to erect.

Slowly, Casper removes his gloves, then takes my scarred hands in his bare ones.

The leather is warm as he slides his gloves over my fingers, encasing my hands in their protective barrier.

I’m too stunned to protest, my mouth slightly ajar as he secures them with care.

Then, as if to solidify the moment, he lifts my gloved hands, pressing them against his chest.

My breath hitches when his other hand cups my cheek. The tenderness in his touch is devastating, the weight of his gaze as he cradles my face threatening to unravel me entirely. In this moment, the world narrows to just this—just him .

But then, as if realizing the precariousness of the moment, Casper steps back.

His fingers trail from my cheek as he moves away, his jaw tight.

The forest is alive with the sound of rustling leaves and distant birdsong, yet it feels eerily quiet in the threads that bind us.

Casper straightens his shoulders, keeping his voice low and urgent.

“We need to talk.”

As my gaze shifts over his shoulder, movement catches my eye—silent, stealthy.

Callum emerges from the shadows behind Casper, his steps soundless on the forest floor, like he’s been waiting there all along.

There’s no surprise in his expression, only the keen awareness of someone who never stopped watching.

Before I can respond, a voice cuts through the air—low and edged in steel.

“Yes, we do.”

I whip my head toward Jason, his jaw set firm, his darkened eyes burning as they lock on Casper with unrestrained animosity. Casper’s lips curl into a faint, biting smirk, his gaze flicking briefly to me before returning to Jason .

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Casper says, his voice a low growl.

Jason stiffens beside me, his shoulders taut.

A glimmer of gold catches my eye, and there she is—Celaena.

Her hair cascades over her shoulders as she steps into view, her hand slipping possessively around Jason’s arm.

Her eyes sweep over me, calculating, and cold.

She looks at me like a predator studying its rival, filled with distrust—a suspicion I can’t fault her for. After all, I’m her lover’s wife.

Jason reaches for my arm, an instinctive attempt to protect me, but before his fingers can close around me, Casper moves like lightning. In an instant, he pins Jason against the rock and presses his blade to his throat, the cold steel a promise of violence.

“Don’t you dare touch her,” Casper snarls, his fangs bared, his voice vibrating with barely contained fury. “Not after you’ve had your filthy hands on another.”

Jason’s expression doesn’t waver, his dark gaze locked onto Casper’s with the quiet defiance of a man who has nothing left to lose.

The air between them crackles, and I stand frozen, their animosity pressing down on me like a physical force.

Celaena gasps softly, her hand reaching for Jason’s arm before her fingers tighten instinctively around him.

I take a step forward, my hand reaching out in some futile attempt to stop this, but Callum intercepts me with a subtle shake of his head, his warning clear without a word spoken.

There’s a fierceness in his dark eyes that betrays his outward ease.

His jaw is tight, and the way he looks at Celaena and Jason carries a simmering disdain, as if their presence itself offends him.

When his gaze shifts back to me, there’s something else—a flicker of guilt or regret, fleeting but undeniable.

I look back at Casper, searching for something familiar—but his eyes shift, the vibrant green swallowed by a pitch-black void. An unsettling emptiness that chills me to my core. I force myself to hold my ground, refusing to show the fear that threatens to surface.

“Casper…” I whisper.

His gaze snaps to mine, the slight crease between his brows deepening as he reads the unsettled look in my eyes. A flicker of concern passes over his face, but he says nothing. Instead, he turns back to Jason, his jaw set.

“Are you going to tell her,” Casper says softly, his voice steady despite the storm raging inside him.

“Or should we?” Callum adds, tilting his head in a way that feels predatory.

Casper’s blade gleams in the faint light as he releases Jason and steps back, his intense stare never leaving Jason’s face. But when I speak, the sound of my voice pulls his attention to me.

“Tell me what?” I demand, my voice trembling with frustration and the weight of so many unanswered questions.

Jason adjusts his cloak, his gaze darting between Casper and me. The agitation in his frame is palpable as he hesitates.

“Lailah, let’s go,” he says, his voice low and insistent, but I don’t move.

Jason steps closer, but before he can reach me, a dagger whistles through the air, embedding itself into a crevice in the rock behind him and pinning his cloak to the wall.

I whirl around to find an infuriated Callum, slowly smirking, a teasing challenge that sends a shiver through me. Jason yanks the dagger free and tosses it to the ground with a loud clatter, but it’s Callum’s steady, provocative gaze that holds me captive.

“No, Jason,” Callum says smoothly, “I think you’ll tell her here.”

Jason glares at Callum, his fists clenched at his sides, but he doesn’t argue. His jaw tightens as his eyes meet mine, softening slightly.

“Lailah,” he starts. “Whatever this is, I’ll tell you when we’re safely in my lands, in our private chambers.”

I can barely contain the anger bubbling beneath my skin.

“No,” I snap. “You’ll tell me now . What’s going on?”

Jason hesitates, his jaw tightening, and for the first time, I see something in his face that unsettles me—guilt.

"Promise me you’ll hear me out before you become angry," Jason says, his voice careful, measured.

Callum scoffs, leaning back against the wall .

"I think it’s a bit late for that."

I don’t have patience for their games. My pulse is already hammering in my ears, a slow, creeping dread curling in my stomach.