A Vow Of Hate

by James, Lylah

Killian surged forward and I tripped over my feet when he slammed me into the wall again, his hand going to the back of my head and his fingers gripping my hair.

  “Shut up,” he snarled. “Shut the fuck up, you maddening woman.”

  I let out a choked gasp and my vision grew blurry, but I blinked the tears away. Not today. His head lowered, so we were eye-level. He was so close; I could taste him on my tongue. His bitterness. His rage. His own suffering.

  “Show me who you were before I broke your heart,” I breathed, the fight finally leaving my body. I wanted to see the man behind the mask. I wanted to see the man who was hurt, not the man who sought vengeance.

  Killian’s fist tightened around my hair, his knuckles digging into my scalp. I didn’t even wince. It didn’t even hurt. Nothing hurt anymore.

  “He’s dead,” he growled in such an abrasive voice, and I trembled.

  I gave him a bittersweet smile. “I don’t believe that.”

  His eyes darkened and his lips twitched with a cruel smile. He brought our faces closer, his breath fanning over my lips through the veil. “I’m the monster you created, Julianna.”

  Killian released me and took a step back.

  “If you’re looking for something out of this marriage, Beasty… then know this, remember this, we are fire and water. A story laced with sin and resentment. We are incapable of being anything other than what we are now. Fire burns; water drowns. And that’s exactly what we are – a catastrophe.”

  My knees weakened.

  Killian’s eyes roved my veiled face. For a simple second.

  My breath lodged in my throat.

  He spun around and walked away.

  I slammed a hand over my mouth and my legs gave out. I sunk onto the ground and let out a silent scream into my fist.

  Our story was made out of broken bones, built on a splintered spine; the pages stained with blood and words cursed with devastation.

  We were battle worn.

  And perhaps… if we had met in another lifetime, our story would have been different. Less grief and more tenderness.

  Perhaps in another lifetime…

  We would have been just Killian and Julianna – without a past to hold us back.

  Without tragedy in our veins.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Julianna

  Dear Husband,

  Some days, loneliness claws at me.

  What I feel for you falls somewhere between unyielding loyalty and a pain that withers my heart.

  Whether it is love or whether it is pain, I am filled with only one thought.

  I miss the taste of you, I miss the warmth of your embrace at night, and I miss your unloving eyes and your indifferent touches.

  You have never looked at me with anything more than respect, only because we took vows and for I am your wife.

  Your eyes lack adoration, your touch lacks tenderness and your lips lack love.

  Therefore, over the years, I have accepted that I will never be more than a responsibility to you…

  Yet, here I am.

  Still craving you.

  The loss of our child has me lonely, my dear.

  I just want one thing.

  Is it too much to ask?

  I just want my husband.

  - A

  “Hey there, my love. Did you miss me?” I whispered to Ragna, running my fingers through her wild mane. “I haven’t seen you in three days. God, why does it feel longer?”

  She let out a snort in response, bumping her head into my shoulder. “Yes, I miss you too. Has Cerberus been nice to you while I was gone?”

  After my seizure the day of the shooting, my body needed time to recuperate. I was sleepy and sluggish most of the time, feeling somewhat out of sorts. My muscles were still sore and I still felt like I had been flung into a wall several times and then stomped on.

  The shooting and the suicide of the maid was still a mystery to me. My body trembled at the thought, so I quickly quashed the memory down. That was exactly what I had been doing for the last three days. Every time I thought of Killian running over to me, shielding me with his body, the sound of the gun going off… and then his blood staining his white shirt and my hand – it triggered me.

  So, I chose to trust Killian when he said that he had doubled the security on the island and that he was digging deeper into the matter.

  “Do you want to go for a gallop?” I asked my mare. I rubbed a hand down her side, feeling how powerful she was. “I miss riding you.”

  Our eyes locked and we seemed to have an understanding. My sweet girl had missed me too. I grabbed her by the bridle and led her away from her stall. She chewed on some hay while I prepared my saddle.

  The sound of footsteps approaching made me pause and I looked over Ragna’s shoulder to find Killian walking into the stable.

  Without as much of a single word, I looked away and ignored his presence. We barely said a word to each other since the night in my room. We had dinner in silence and once our plates were cleared away, we’d leave the table without as much of glance at each other. I saw him with Samuel a few times, walking down the corridor, deep in conversation and every time, I went in the other direction. The distance between us had grown far wider than before.

  Perhaps it was better this way…

  “Say goodbye to your mare, Beasty,” Killian drawled, his tone frosty.

  My head snapped in his direction, pausing while I had been trying to strap the saddle on Ragna. “Excuse me?”

  I had been so surprised he was speaking to me that his words didn’t even register to my brain and when they did, I felt myself grow cold.

  His head cocked to the side and his gaze ran down the length of me, taking in the riding clothes that molded to my body from my chest to my hips and shapely legs. “Come tomorrow, she won’t be here anymore,” he elaborated with a deadly calmness.

  I should have known. I should have been prepared.

  When Killian was this cool and collected, nothing good came out of it.

  I had come to prefer his rage over his calm.

  My heart stammered. “What are you talking about, Killian?”

  “I sold her. To the highest bidder. She’s currently worth 250,000 dollars.”

  My hand froze in mid-air, as I was about to give Ragna a pat. “What did you just say?” My tone was deceptively soft, but I was feeling anything but. My mind ran with all kind of thoughts and the ground swayed under my feet.

  “Am I going to have to repeat everything I say?” His lips tugged to the side, but his expression lacked the warmth of any humane emotions. “I said, I sold her. Say goodbye, Julianna.”

  I shook my head, madly, and my hair flew in my face. Even though it was a pretty warm day today, coldness seeped through my bones. “Ragna is not going anywhere,” I said fiercely. “She’s mine. Your father gifted her to me.”

  The only difference in his calm and collected posture was his nostrils flaring. “Oh, really? Well, that’s too bad. The sale is final.”

  “You can’t!”

  “I can and I just did.” Killian spoke with such finality that it hurt to hear. “Say goodbye. It’s your last chance, Beasty. I won’t be so nice about it again.”

  “No,” I choked, wrapping my arm around Ragna’s neck. “You can’t. Please.”

  Ragna let out an alarmed neigh, and I could feel her grow agitated. As if she was in tune with my emotions. As if she understood what was happening. My mare stomped forward, putting herself between Killian and I.

  I let out a sob, hugging her tighter. I love you. I love you. I love you, my favorite girl. My best girl. My sweet love.

  Killian snatched the rein from my hand, guiding Ragna forward and away from me.

  “Don’t… don’t take her away from me,” I pleaded, my voice breaking. Ragna was the only thing I had left. My only companion. She understood me better than anyone else. I couldn’t lose her, not when I no longer had anything to call my own.

  Killian smile cruelly.<
br />
  His head lowered, his nose brushing against my jaw, over the veil. His breath fanned over my ear and his whispers left cracks in my already fragmented heart. “Atone for your sins, wife.”

  My face crumpled and a sob escaped past the lump in my throat as Killian led Ragna away. My mare looked back at me, confused and alarm. She let out a snort, throwing her head back, her beautiful mane flying into the air, as her tail lashed back and forth.

  I clutched my chest, willing for the ache to go away, but the pressure built and built, growing more intense. Ragna and Killian disappeared and I was left alone in the stables, without my mare and with only a bleeding heart.

  Atone for your sins, Killian had said.

  But that was exactly what I had been doing for the last three years.

  Atoning.

  Until I became a forgotten daughter, an unloved wife and a lost woman.

  The tears spilled down my cheeks, drenching my black veil.

  Ragna was the only thing that truly mattered. The beautiful creature I dreamed of in my fairy tales. I thought that even though there was no prince charming in my story… or a happy ending, at least I had my Ragna.

  Sure, I didn’t have a knight in shining armor riding on a white horse to save me from this cursed castle and cursed story.

  But I didn’t need a knight in shining armor.

  For I was the one who rode on the white horse.

  And now… she has been taken away from me.

  Snatched away, so mercilessly.

  How unfair, how cruel, how heartless.

  I sunk to the ground, my fingers clenching the grass where Ragna had stood, just mere seconds before. Her hooves had left imprints in the grass, the only proof that she existed, that she had been here.

  My Ragna.

  Days had passed and I felt myself drifting further from reality. It was absolutely terrifying, to feel yourself lose control of your own mind, your own emotions and your own body. To suffer in silence, to breathe through a broken heart – the kind of deep suffering that changes who you are from the inside.

  You become adrift, lost in a vast ocean of… nothingness. How could emptiness be so heavy?

  To feel so unworthy of love, to feel so… lost.

  The first time I had found myself in a confession box, spilling my fears to the Priest, he had said, atone for your sins. You will find salvation.

  And so, I had been doing that. For the last three years.

  Yet, my salvation had only come with more heartbreak.

  “Julianna?” The sound of my name being called out had me flinching.

  I blinked and turned toward the owner of the voice. William Spencer. His fork had paused mid-way to his mouth and he gave me a concerned look. “Did you hear what I just said?”

  I licked my lips and shook my head. “No, I’m sorry. I got distracted.”

  My father-in-law granted me a small smile. “Have you chosen your gown yet?”

  Right, the masquerade ball. The reason why William came back to the Island. Three days from today, the ball would take place. The castle was more active than ever as arrangements were being made. Nothing should be lacking; William had strictly said. Including me.

  It was going to be my first official appearance as Julianna Spencer.

  I had to dress accordingly; I was expected to smile, to mingle, to laugh.

  And to show the world just how in love my husband and I were.

  An imperfect marriage but a perfect lie and a pretty façade.

  William’s eyes darted between his son and me. His lips thinned when he noticed how rigid my shoulders were and just how tensed Killian was. We were sitting next to each other at the dining table, while William had his late lunch.

  Killian and I had already eaten – separately – before his father had arrived on the Island an hour ago.

  Our chairs had been pulled closely together, our shoulders touching, as if to give the perfect picture that we were one team. Civil and in love.

  “Yes, I have chosen a gown already,” I said, keeping my tone mellow. The hand on my thigh tightened in what I assumed was… satisfaction.

  My thigh burned under his touch, even though my dress kept him from touching my bare skin. I eyed Killian from the corner of my eye, watched him smile at his father as if everything was right in our marriage life.

  Since he took Ragna away, a week ago, I barely even spoke a word to him. Selene had been right to warn me about him. She told me Killian would drag out all my vulnerabilities and use my weaknesses against me. I had been a fool to think that I could handle Killian Spencer and come out of this battle unscathed.

  A fool who had been in love.

  A fool who believed in second chances in life.

  A fool who had thought she’d find redemption.

  But I wasn’t foolish to think that Killian was done with me. No, he still found ways to insult me, to humiliate me, to take away all the little things that made me happy.

  William went on about the masquerade ball, telling us how he expected the night to go and then the conversation had moved to their work, talking about Killian’s upcoming campaign for senator, which had nothing to do with me.

  So, I sat back against my chair and just nodded along.

  But even then, Killian didn’t grant me peace. He really was a thorn stuck under my flesh. His thumb circled my knee and I frowned. What the hell?

  His touch was tentative, almost teasing. Shocked, I found myself growing still as his fingers drifted past the slit in my dress, until his callous hand was on my bare skin. Gooseflesh peppered my skin and my breath hitched.

  Oh God. What was he doing?

  My eyes darted to William, but he was unaware of his son’s intention. I gripped the table’s edge when his fingers inched higher toward the juncture of my thighs.

  My legs clenched, only to end up trapping his hand between my thighs, and Killian grinned.

  I should have stopped him. I really should have, but it was the way he caressed me that made me pause. Tenderly. Deceptively gentle. Teasingly.

  Aside from the two kisses we had share, Killian hasn’t touched me in any other way. He had told me very early on that he was disgusted by the idea of touching me; what changed now?

  So, I knew… for the sake of my own sanity, I should have stopped him.

  But I didn’t.

  Because I was glutton for punishment.

  And because even though my husband was a brutal man, I craved his touch. Filled with longing, I allowed him to do as he pleased.

  Call me weak; call me spineless – but you wouldn’t understand. I had my reasons.

  I let out a barely audible gasp when Killian reached my satin panties. My belly pooled with warmth and my core tightened, feeling suddenly so empty. When was the last time I enjoyed my own pleasure and brought myself to orgasm? I couldn’t remember…

  Maybe it was the fact that I hadn’t been touched for so long, or perhaps it was just because I craved intimacy so much – I was aroused beyond belief.

  To be touched by this cruel man and to allow myself to enjoy it, while his father sat there, eating lunch and conversing with his son – I really was a fool.

  Killian dragged his index finger over my wet slit through my panties. My heart hammered at the delicious sensation rippling through my body. Carefully, he tugged my panties to the side and cool air wafted over my fevered flesh, wetness dripping between my thighs and down the crack of my asshole.

  My breath hitched when his fingers brushed against my core. Holy shit. Oh God! With exquisite tenderness, he parted my wet folds, his thumb grazing my hardened nub. A soft whimper left me and I bit my lip, holding back the moan that threatened to escape my throat.

  Stop him, my mind screamed.

  Don’t, my body begged.

  It felt so good, even though it was so wrong. I wanted to cry; I wanted to plead for mercy; I wanted him to stop, but I needed him to continue.

  I sounded maddening even to myself. So, how could I ever e
xplain myself to anyone? To make them understand me?

  The pulse between my legs was almost unbearable at this point and I feared that I might just orgasm at the table. How horrifying, yet still… I didn’t stop Killian.

  It was like all my senses had left me and I was left with a greedy body that needed his caress more than anything.

  Killian continued his conversation with his father, with all the epitome of calmness. He was so contained while I was so… out of control.

  His thumb moved in circles, massaging my flesh, a knowing smirk plastered over his lips. My clit swelled and throbbed under his thumb as he rubbed and pressed against the bundle of nerves. White hot pleasure ripped through me. There weren’t butterflies in my stomach; it was pure fire burning through my veins.

  My hips moved against my will, chasing his caress with my wanton need. I could feel just how wet and sticky I was.

  My thighs quivered and my body tightened, on the precipice of orgasm. Almost frantically, I grasped his wrist, forcing him to stop. Killian’s knowing fingers slowed to a pause, but he kept his hand between my legs, inside my panties.

  I was still on a high, drugged with lust and needy with desires, when Killian lowered his head, so he could whisper in my ears.

  “My fingers were just inside another woman. Her cunt juices are now smeared all over yours. I’m not a loyal man, Beasty, but by letting me touch you… you just downgraded yourself to a common whore,” he rasped, repeating the words I had said to him.

  And that was when my world came crashing down, reminding me that while I had been craving his touch, it had all been a pretty deception.

  Fool me once, shame on you.

  Fool me twice, shame on me.

  Fool me thrice? Shame on me again.

  Like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over me, the fiery hot pleasure coursing through my veins doused down, until I was shaking for a whole different reason.

  “I’m sorry,” I choked, pushing the chair away from the table. Killian’s hand slid out from under my dress and with his other hand, he brought his flute to his lips, taking a slow sip. All nonchalant, without any remorse. “I have…. I’m not feeling quite well. I think I need to lay down. Excuse me.”