Page 94 of Tower of Ash and Darkness
Before I can retreat, he spins me, pressing my back to his chest. His lips graze my ear, his voice low and tense.
“Do you want me to leave?”
My breath falters, words slipping away unformed as my gaze shifts to the woman across the room. Her dark eyes rake over us, her smile harsh and hungry, as though she’s reveling in the sight of us together, feeding off the suspense. Frustration flares within me, a bitter realization settling in—this is nothing more than a performance to them.
A spectacle. A show.
I don’t answer. Casper takes a moment to spin me again, pulling me even closer than before. His forehead rests against the curve of my neck, and I feel the heat of his breath against my skin. He inhales deeply, drawing me into him. His hand slides lower on my waist, then drifts upward, making me tremble. I lean into him instinctively, the warmth of his body pulling me closer, as if it's the only thing that makes sense in this chaos.
"I didn’t think you cared for what I wanted," I murmur, my voice low, barely audible over the music.
Casper’s expression shifts slightly, but he holds his ground.
"For I know well what it is you desire above all else." I say, my voice calm, almost too measured. I glance toward the woman still watching us, her presence like a thorn burrowing deeper, a reminder of what he’s already chosen.
Casper tenses at my words but pulls me closer, guiding us to the shadowed corner as the music darkens and slows, urging us to follow its rhythm.
Without hesitation, he twirls me, the motion so fluid it feels as though the world has melted into the rhythm. In one seamless movement, he lifts me, my feet leaving the floor as though gravity itself has surrendered to his command. For a fleeting, breathless moment, I hang suspended, weightless, before he dips me low, pulling me firmly into the curve of his arm.
My back arches effortlessly into his hold, my skin brushing his, the warmth blazing through the thin barrier of fabric. His forehead presses lightly against mine, dark curls tumbling over his eyes, their piercing intensity locking me in place.
"Don’t believe everything you see, Princess," he says softly, his voice carrying a quiet edge that only fuels my frustration.
More questions rise to my lips, desperate to escape, but I bite them back. Instead, I turn my gaze away. Anger surges through me, hot and consuming, flooding every corner of my mind as the silence deepens.
"What else should I believe?" I snap, my voice trembling as I shake my head.
Sensing my retreat, his grip tightens, grounding me. The waltz flows like a whispered secret, each step a play between dominance and surrender. The music swells, pulling us closer, until the space between us dissolves into nothing.
"Do you think I want this?" he growls, his grip tightening. I gasp as his intensity sinks in. "Do you think I take this lightly?"
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'srealwith 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.
