Page 88 of Tower of Ash and Darkness (Tower of Ash #1)

I watch them both, noting how their banter flows so easily, like an old routine they’ve mastered over time.

It’s obvious they’ve been through a lot together, but there’s something more beneath the surface.

The way Alias jokes, the way Gwyn’s eyes soften just a little when she’s looking at him—it’s clear there’s a history, a deeper connection that they don’t acknowledge out loud.

Gwyn rolls her eyes, but a small smile tugs at the corner of her lips. Alias laughs, leaning in slightly.

“You know Gwyn, most women find me irresistible.” He shoots her a wink.

Gwyn just shakes her head, though her expression softens.

“I don’t care much for your charm, Alias” she replies dryly. “You have always been known for two things: sleeping around with every woman who catches your eye, and taking down every vampire male who challenges you.”

Alias grins proudly.

“And I am damn good at both. No one can touch me.”

Gwyn chuckles, a mischievous gleam in her eyes.

“Except me, of course.”

I raise an eyebrow, leaning forward. “Why? What happened?”

“He underestimated me when we first met. Thought brute strength alone would be enough to take me down.”

Alias groans, rubbing the back of his neck like the memory physically pains him.

“In my defense, you came out of nowhere. I wasn’t prepared for someone so... quick .”

“Quick?” Gwyn echoes, her voice dripping with mock offense. “Alias, I had you on the floor, submitting in under thirty seconds. ”

Alias looks at her, a mix of frustration and flirtation in his eyes, though he knows all too well that every word she speaks is true.

"I mean, she’s a little scary when she’s angry," he mutters under his breath, just loud enough to be caught.

“A little?” Gwyn scoffs. “You were begging for mercy.”

“I wasn’t begging, ” Alias protests, sitting up straighter.

“You were,” Callum finally says, his voice cutting through the lighthearted bickering.

Everyone turns to him, surprised he’s joined the conversation. Alias narrows his eyes at him, clearly annoyed.

“You weren’t even there, Callum. How would you know?”

“I was there,” Callum replies evenly, his gaze flicking to Gwyn before settling back on Alias. “I watched her take you down. You hit the floor so hard I thought you might’ve cracked it.” Gwyn smirks, clearly enjoying the vindication.

“See? Even Callum remembers. And he doesn’t waste time remembering things that aren’t worth it.”

Alias takes another bite of his carrot, chewing thoughtfully as he glances at Gwyn.

“Are you going to pet my bruised ego, my lady?” he teases, his voice dripping with charm.

Gwyn doesn’t even glance at him as she rolls her eyes, but the corners of her mouth twitch. With an almost imperceptible sigh, she stands up and moves toward me.

“You really are insufferable,” she mutters under her breath, but I catch the faintest glimmer of affection in her tone, even if she’s trying to hide it.

Alias watches her go, a broad smile spreading across his face, clearly satisfied with the reaction he’s gotten.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he says to no one in particular, his eyes following Gwyn as she walks away.

I can’t help but notice the way Alias’ gaze lingers on her, his teasing smile softening just for a breath, as if savoring the little exchange. It’s subtle, but I can see the affection there—the same affection that Gwyn tries so hard to mask with her dry humor and cutting remarks.

I turn to Gwyn, who’s now standing beside me.

“You’re not going to give him the satisfaction?”

She shakes her head, a small, wry smile on her lips.

“If I did, he'd never stop. But I will admit, I enjoy keeping him on his toes.”

Alias leans back on the log, watching the two of us, clearly content with the attention and banter he’s stirred up.

“And I enjoy every second of it,” he calls out with a grin.

Gwyn shoots him a side glance, her smile flickering for just a second before it fades into her usual calm composure.

“Keep talking, Alias. I’ll be sure to put you back in your place if you get too comfortable.”

Alias just chuckles, his voice full of confidence.

“Please, I dare you.”

Gwyn sighs, shaking her head. “Don’t push your luck.”

I laugh softly, feeling a strange warmth wash over me. The dynamic between them is chaotic but undeniably genuine, and it helps me feel like the weight I’ve been carrying isn’t quite so heavy.

I watch as Alias and Gwyn continue their usual banter around the fire.

But the warmth of the flames is nothing compared to the heat of the allure between them.

It’s subtle, lingering beneath their words, but it’s unmistakable.

And I can’t help but feel like an outsider looking into something far more complicated than they let on.

My heart feels a little heavier with the realization that sometimes, it’s hard to see or accept the things we want most, even when they’re right in front of us.

And for all their teasing and bickering, Alias and Gwyn seem to be the perfect example of that—two people who are too stubborn to admit what they truly feel for each other, even if everyone else can see it.

As the bickering continues, I glance over at Callum, who has been quietly observing the exchange.

His lips twitch, as though he might smile, but the moment our eyes meet, he quickly looks away, his stoic mask slipping back into place.

And for the first time, something unexpected stirs within me—a sense of belonging, however fleeting.

In this strange, mismatched group, I feel a piece of myself settling into place.

The more time I spend with them, the more I begin to understand the tangled bonds that hold them together—messy, imperfect, and complicated, but real all the same.

The fire burns lower, embers glowing faintly as time slips by unnoticed. Callum lays back near the firepit, twirling his knife with lazy precision, his eyes fixed on the flames as if searching for answers in their flickering dance. Gwyn stands abruptly, brushing off her hands.

“I’m going to grab more wood,” she announces, breaking the quiet.

Alias’s gaze follows her as she turns toward the trees, watching silently for a moment before he rises to his feet.

“You’ll probably end up with wet wood,” he calls after her. “Let me help, so we don’t sit here trying to burn mud.”

She glances over her shoulder, arching a brow. “I think I can manage dry wood without your expert advice, Alias.”

“Sure you can,” he shoots back, catching up to her with an easy stride. “But why take the risk?”

Their voices fade, playful teasing lingering in the air as they disappear among the trees.

“Are they together?” I ask, my voice soft but searching.

Callum looks up at them, letting his gaze linger before he shakes his head.

“Surely they must know they’re in love with each other,” I press, feeling that familiar tug of curiosity pulling at me.

He turns to me, his expression serious, almost too much so.

“And what do you know of being in love, Your Grace?”

The question catches me off guard, but I refuse to show it. My lips tighten slightly as I hold his gaze .

“Have you been in love?”

Callum exhales deeply, his shoulders sinking just slightly before his lips twist into a smirk. The firelight dances across his face, highlighting the mischievous edge in his eyes.

“I don’t believe in anything that can put a man on his knees,” he says casually, his tone dismissive, as if the very idea is beneath him.

“That’s what love is to you?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.

“Isn’t it?” His words feel like a cutting taunt.

“You might have lived a life, Your Grace, where everyone falls to their knees before you. It might seem easy to you,” he says, his voice calm but pointed enough to sting.

The jab lands, but I don’t flinch. Instead, I keep my expression neutral, refusing to let him see how his words crawl under my skin.

“What you see is duty and obedience ,” he says, his tone dipping lower, darker. “Love requires neither.”

“Then what does it require?”

“Death,” he says simply, the word heavy, final.

A soft laugh escapes me, though I can’t shake the unease his answer stirs.

“That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

Callum leans forward slightly, the shadows deepening across his face, his eyes like molten gold in the firelight.

“Doesn’t death put you on your knees? It lets something greater take hold of you, forces you to sacrifice yourself for something… more .”

The words ripple through the air, heavy and haunting.

I feel the pull in his voice, something deep and raw that shouldn’t be there, something that wraps around me like a chain.

The way he speaks—it's as if he’s not just telling me this, but showing me, baring some unspoken truth that neither of us dare acknowledge aloud.

“There are two things in this world you can’t control, Your Grace,” he says quietly, his voice soft, yet brimming with something darker. “Death and love.”

His words linger, unsettling and yet strangely captivating. For a second, I can’t respond, his gaze pinning me in place .

“I’ve killed many men by my blade,” he continues, his tone low and steady. “And in the end, they all beg for the same thing.” He pauses, the silence punctuating the impact of his words.

“More time with the woman they love.”

I don’t move as his words settle over me, their truth digging deep.

A chill brushes my skin as I realize he’s right—those are the only forces that truly demand surrender.

And the way he says it, like someone who’s felt the weight of them both, leaves me unbalanced.

He won’t admit it, but it’s as if he knows what it’s like to be brought to his knees by love, even if he fights it.

And maybe I do too. I think of the moments I’ve felt that pull, the ache of losing control, and the way it lingers, demanding more of me than I’m willing to give.

“You’re a vampire,” I remind him, my firm voice a defense against the twisting sensation in my chest. “I’m sure death doesn’t scare you.”

“No,” he says, his eyes narrowing as they meet mine with pointed intensity. “But love sure as hell scares you.”

I feel my jaw tighten, his observation cutting deeper than I care to admit.

“Well, that’s definitely the place you’ll be going when you die,” I retort, forcing a smile, trying to mask the way his words rattle me.

Callum hums under his breath, the sound low and wicked, as if he’s amused by the very idea. His lips curl into a soft, infuriating smile, and his gaze shifts to the fire, watching it as if it holds secrets only he understands.

“Only if I see those beautiful blue eyes before I go,” he says lightly, the coy edge in his tone making my stomach twist.

He leans back then, folding his hands behind his head as if dismissing me entirely.

His eyes close briefly, but then, as if drawn back, they open slowly.

His gaze meets mine, steady and intent, as if he’s memorizing me, carving every detail into his mind.

My heart skips, but I push the feeling down.

I roll my eyes, more at myself than at him, hating the way his words stick, the way the banter pulls me in against my will.

“Yeah, because I’ll be the one to put a dagger through that cold heart of yours,” I call, the annoyance in me rising .

Callum tilts his head slightly, his gaze still fixed on me.

“Don’t tempt me, Your Grace. I might just hold you to that.”

With a flick of his wrist, he twirls his dagger once before letting it rest at his side, his expression smug and infuriating. The firelight dances over him, highlighting the angles of his face, and I hate that I can’t look away.