Page 79 of Tower of Ash and Darkness
Because I had spent so long pretending I was immune to it, above it, made of something colder, fiercer, safer. But now I know the truth, and it settles into my bones. I had never let myself want it. Not until I saw him give it to someone else.
And now that I have... I don’t know how to not want it.
When he finally pulls back, his lips are stained crimson, his breath shallow and uneven as he exhales against her neck. His forehead rests against her temple briefly, his hand still holding her firmly against him as though he can’t bear to let her go. Vanessa clings to him, her fingers trembling where they grip his chest, her flushed cheeks and half-closed eyes a testament to the intensity of what just transpired.
The room erupts into scattered applause, the sound distant and distorted as I sit frozen, burning with emotions I can’t name. Even as he steadies Vanessa, keeping her close with a hand on her waist, hisgaze never once flicks to me. He looks up, meeting my father’s eyes instead.
“Quite the display, Ghost,” my father remarks, his voice rich with mock approval. “You certainly know how to put on a show. I must say, you’ve impressed me.”
Casper doesn’t flinch. His expression is calm, his voice even as he replies, “I aim to please.”
Vanessa sways slightly, but he doesn’t release her, his grip firm as he steadies her. She turns her face toward him, her expression one of awe and satisfaction, and he leans down to press a final, lingering kiss to her temple. My father chuckles softly, clearly pleased, while I sit motionless, my chest tight.
The room hums as the crowd shifts back into idle conversation, but I can’t move. My breath feels trapped in my lungs, each inhale shallow and unsteady. Casper finally steps back, his arm still draped around Vanessa as she clings to him, her smile radiant and smug. She looks every bit the woman who has everything she ever wanted.
He tilts his head toward my father, offering him a small, polite bow before guiding her away, disappearing into the sea of bodies that part for them like waves. The sound of her laughter lingers in the air, light and triumphant, carving into me with each fading note.
My father’s voice is distant as he continues to speak, though I don’t register the words. All I can feel is the ache that spreads as my mind replays every moment, every touch, every glance between them.
And the way he never once looked atme.
“Ah, the beauty of vampire blood,” my father’s voice cuts through my haze, dripping with amusement.
I glance up to see him leaning slightly toward Jason, his wicked grin revealing just the edge of his fangs. Jason’s jaw tightens, his golden gaze steady and unyielding as he meets my father’s icy blue eyes.
“Quite the display,” he replies evenly, though his voice is tight, controlled.
My father chuckles darkly, his voice dipping into something colder.
“And that, Jason, is why I married my sweet Lailah off to a human. You don’t have the appetite of monsters like us,” he muses, swirling the goblet in his hand. “You’re safe... restrained. A fragile little tether to her mortality.”
He takes a slow sip, his eyes gleaming as they dart between Jason and me, drawing out the tension. Jason doesn’t flinch, but the muscle in his jaw ticks, a quiet betrayal of the unease beneath his calm exterior. As he presses his lips together, the cut splits again—fresh blood rising at the seam, vivid against the controlled stillness of his face.
Clyde’s eyes narrow on the split in Jason’s lip, a slow, knowing grin creeping across his face.
“Is that new?” he asks, voice silky with false innocence.
The silence stretches, thick as smoke.
“I hit him,” I say, not loud, but clear. My eyes stay fixed on my goblet, the silver rim cool against my fingers. “He said something he shouldn’t have.”
The words hang there, sharp and unclaimed. A few heads turn, their gazes flicking toward me, as Clyde’s eyes land on mine. For a long moment, no one says a word. Then, slowly, his mouth curls into a grin—not warm, not kind. Just cutting.
“Did he now?”
Jason nods once, calm, composed. “She had a good reason.”
Clyde’s smile sharpens slowly.
“Then I’m sure you deserved it.”
There’s a beat of silence before Clyde lifts his goblet slightly, eyes still gleaming.
“A woman who strikes with purpose is worth fearing… and worth keeping.” He chuckles. “You’d do well to remember that, Jason.”
Jason’s eyes find mine, and for an instant, regret flickers there before he turns away.
“It’s an honor to be her betrothed.”
