Page 64 of Tower of Ash and Darkness
“Then tell me I’m wrong.”
His eyes lock onto mine, and something in them dares me to look away. “Tell me you never thought of me after I left,” he continues. “That you never wondered where I was, who I was with. That you didn’t imagine what it would’ve been like if I had stayed.”
I try to speak, but the words catch like thorns in my throat.
“You can’t,” he says, and there’s something cruel in how certain he sounds. “You want to hate me for leaving, for finding comfort in the arms of someone else. Fine, but don’t stand here and lie about what you felt. About what you still feel.”
My fingers curl into fists at my sides.
“I know you.” He says, softer now.
I want to look away, to distance myself from the quiet power he holds over me, but my body betrays me. I stand frozen as Jason steps closer. His knuckles graze my cheek with a gentle touch that feels almost overwhelming. My breath catches, my heart fluttering as his eyes meet mine, then drop lower, tracing the line of my lips.
He leans in, his intent unmistakable. I hesitate, confused, but before I can react, his hands thread into my hair, and his lips crash against mine.
The kiss is warm, commanding, and disorienting. The world tiltson its axis as one of his hands slips around my waist, guiding me back until my spine meets the wall behind me. His body presses against mine, and a soft moan escapes me before I can stop it, betraying everything I’ve tried to bury.
His grip tightens slightly, anchoring me, pulling me closer still. My heart thrums, its rhythm frantic and deafening in my ears. When his tongue brushes against mine again, I shudder—an involuntary tremor of want that curls in my stomach and blooms outward. My fingers clutch at his shirt, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my palms.
For a breathless moment, I let go. I let myself feel it—the fire, the gravity of him, the way his touch unravels everything I thought I could control.
But then, clarity strikes.
The haze of confusion lifts, and my body stiffens. Jason senses the shift immediately, pulling back just enough to meet my gaze. His breath is uneven, his lips slightly parted as he searches my face for a clue to the sudden change.
“Are you okay?”
I step away from him, the distance a necessity. My gloved hand rises to my lips, still tingling from his touch, as a tremor ripples through me. The once-comforting air of the library feels oppressive, as if unseen eyes are watching, waiting for my next move.
“Don’t do that again,” I say firmly, cutting through the suffocating silence. My eyes lock onto his, daring him to challenge me.
“Lailah,” he murmurs, his voice rough, barely above a whisper. It’s not a plea, not an apology—just my name, spoken like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth. Jason steps forward cautiously, but I raise my hand to stop him, leaving no room for argument.
His face pales, the color draining as the realization dawns. He’s afraid of me.
Good.
“If you want to claim me,” I continue, “then you need to be honestwith me. Until that happens, this is nothing more than a marriage of convenience.”
Jason exhales slowly, his fingers brushing over the stubble on his chin as if trying to find the words, his eyes welling with frustration and regret. Finally, he looks at me, the gravity of his next words evident before he even speaks.
"We’re to be husband and wife by tomorrow evening," he says softly, laced with quiet urgency and a trace of desperation. His words feel final, inescapable, stealing the breath from my lungs. "Is this really how we’re going to leave things before then?"
I stare at him as reality sinks in. My lips part to respond, but the bitter bile in my throat surges first. He wants to talk about the future—our future—when he still refuses to address the one thing that hangs between us.
“Do you plan on fucking her before then too?” I ask, my voice steady, but razor-sharp. “Or after?”
Jason flinches as if I’ve slapped him, his jaw clenching as he visibly recoils from the venom in my words. He takes a step back, his gaze darting away from mine, and I know I’ve hit exactly where I intended.
“Lailah,” he starts, his voice strained, almost pleading, but I cut him off before he can weave together some half-hearted excuse.
“Don’t you dare say my name like it means something to you right now,” I snap, stepping forward, my anger surging like fire in my veins.
He looks up at me, his expression unguarded, the regret etched into every line of his face. Just when I think he’s going to try to defend himself, he stops. His shoulders sag, and when he finally speaks, his voice is quieter, almost defeated.
“I haven’t seen her,” he says, his gaze dropping to the floor.
The anger inside me coils tighter, but I force myself to keep my composure.
