Page 55 of Tower of Ash and Darkness
But before I can fully compose myself, I feel him again—closer this time.
I turn, my breath catching as his hand lifts, his fingers brushing my skin with a softness that feels too intimate. He tucks a stray lock of hair behind my ear, the gesture so simple yet so tender. I can’tmove, can’t think—I can only feel this moment, fragile and consuming.
“I am to be wed,” I say, my words breaking through the fragile tension like a jagged stone shattering still water.
Casper’s hand lingers for just a moment too long, and then he steps back, his eyes locked on mine—steady, intense. The night air grows thicker and heavier, and his gaze remains unrelenting, as though he’s knocking down walls I’ve spent years building.
“And is this what you want?”
The words strike something deep, and I go still. No one has ever asked me that.
“It’s what’s expected,” I say, but even I can hear my voice falter, my hesitation betraying me.
“Expected,” he repeats, the word dripping with disdain, like it tastes bitter on his tongue. He takes another step closer, looming over me like a shadow. “What do you expect, Princess?”
I draw in a shaky breath, trying to steady myself.
“This marriage is my duty,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. “It’s not about me.”
“Isn’t it?” he counters.
His words twist something deep inside me.
“Jason is a good man,” I say, my voice firmer now. The words taste like ash on my tongue, bitter and hollow, unraveling even as I speak them.
He takes another step closer, his eyes darkening.
“You and I both know that’s a lie.”
The statement hits me like a blow, and I feel the air shift.
“You barely know me—or him.”
“I know enough,” he says. “I know Jason isn’t the man you think he is.”
The truth of his words cuts deep, though I fight against it, my stomach twisting with a mixture of anger and fear.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, shaking my head, but the tremor in my voice betrays me. “How could you possibly know?”
Casper steps even closer, and I feel the sting of tears at the corners of my eyes.
“Why are you saying this?” I whisper, my voice trembling.
Casper’s eyes soften, but his intensity doesn’t. He reaches out, his hand curling around mine, pressing it to his chest. Beneath my palm, his heart pounds, quick and erratic, a mirror of the storm building between us.
"Because you deserve someone who truly sees you," he murmurs, softly, reverently. "Someone who chooses you—not out of duty or expectation, but because their soul could never bear to choose anything else."
His words steal the breath from my lungs, and I feel his warmth beneath my hand.
“I barely know you,” I whisper, the confession slipping as my voice trembles.
“You’ve known him longer, but do you reallyknowhim?”
Casper leans closer, his free hand lifting, the backs of his knuckles grazing my cheek. The touch is impossibly light, igniting something inside me. He’s so close now, his warmth wrapping around me, suffocating and exhilarating all at once.
“Tell me you don’t feel this,” he whispers, his voice low and intimate, the challenge in his tone daring me to deny the truth.
My breath catches, and I search for words, for some way to push him back. But the fire in his gaze makes it impossible to lie.
