A Vow Of Hate

by James, Lylah

  “Just because you seek pleasure elsewhere, other than your own wife’s bed, doesn’t mean I do the same,” she hissed.

  I chuckled, appreciating the way she was spitting fire. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say Julianna Spencer sounds jealous.”

  Her grey eyes darkened until they were almost black. “I could care less who you take to your bed.”

  “Liar,” I rasped in her ear. “Tell me, do your nipples ache at the reminder of my touch? Does your clit throb when you close your eyes and think of how good my fingers felt between your thighs?”

  I pulled back and Julianna sucked in a shuddering breath. Her lips parted as if to speak before she closed her mouth again, eyes blinking up at me in a daze.

  I arched an eyebrow. “There we go. I shut you up, wife. Without even having to touch you.”

  Her eyes turned into slits and I pressed my lips together, holding back a laugh. “Need I remind you, our thirty-nights were over last night.”

  “So, is tonight foreplay?” she questioned, her nails digging into my shoulders, and I almost winced.

  “Does foreplay include me strangling you because I’m very tempted.”

  “I might be into choking, who knows.”

  I stumbled, almost stepping on her foot and let out a curse under my breath. Julianna released a soft giggle. “Did you just stutter?”

  “You’re maddening,” I grunted.

  She gasped, the sound fake and overexaggerated. “Are you flirting with me, Killian Spencer?”

  Oh, for fuck’s sake. I was this close to throwing her out of the window. When I married Julianna, I thought I ended up with a docile, compliant and dutiful wife. A sacrificial lamb. A meek woman repenting for her sins. Somewhat tamed and obedient. What I didn’t expect was a sharp-tongued woman who would get on my goddamn nerves every second of the day.

  I spun her around just as the music came to an end. Her back collided into my chest and my hands landed on her hips, keeping her trapped against me. My gaze slid over the back of her slender neck and I saw the way the tip of her ears pinkened.

  “You’re a fucking thorn, Julianna.”

  “We’ve established that,” she said coyly.

  The guests clapped, and I grasped her hand in mine, guiding her away from the dance floor. My father came forward, bringing everyone’s attention to him. The sound of a spoon clinking against his champagne flute brought a hush to all conversations. Silence followed and he finally spoke.

  “Indeed, it has been a lovely evening,” my father said.

  There were murmurs and nods of agreement and he smiled. “My daughter-in-law has settled-in quite well with us and I couldn’t be happier to see my son in love.”

  I scoffed at that and Julianna pinched the inside of my elbow.

  “Civil and in love,” she muttered. “They are watching us.”

  Goddamn it.

  My father turned toward us. “I think we can make this evening even more lovely if Julianna would play the cello for us. I’ve heard she is a talented player and I can’t imagine a better moment for her to show off and play. Julianna, would you do us the honor?”

  My body went cold, my heart pounding in my ears.

  Time slowed.

  Julianna released a panicked breath and I watched as she took shaky steps toward the center of the ballroom, where a chair had been put in place for her.

  All the lights dimmed, except for the grand chandelier over her head. My chest tightened with unspoken grief.

  A cello was given to her and I watched.

  I bore the brunt of our tarnished past, feeling its poison sink into my veins.

  She sat down, her dress pooling around the chair, and she arranged the instrument between her knees. Her head came up; our eyes locked as she placed the bow to the strings.

  There was a single breath between a mocking silence and the first note she played.

  Her fingers wielded the strings like a lover’s caress, her bow striking each chord with a sweet madness. Her grey eyes never wavered from mine and it killed me.

  Julianna played the cello with such melancholy, each note hitting a different tune until she created a song of mad, ugly love – so beautiful, brutal and… pained.

  Two lost lovers colliding together, with tainted memories and too much bitterness.

  It was cruel and haunting. So fucking beautiful…

  Her body became one with the cello and I watched her feeling the music, letting it bleed under her skin and into my soul.

  The cello’s fury bounced off the wall of the ballroom and her agony bled through her bow and into the strings she played. The tempo intensified, becoming almost crazed as Julianna continued to play – her fingers wielding the strings masterfully and her bow sawing though the chords, sorrow bleeding into each note she played. Julianna tortured that cello like a mad woman.

  Her tune finally slowed to a crescendo and came to an abrupt end; it was almost like she had ripped apart two tortured lovers.

  And Julianna broke, right in front of my eyes.

  She killed me.

  Looking like an angel and my goddamn nightmare.

  Julianna

  The moment my tune came to an end, I had forgotten how to breathe.

  Our eyes were still locked together, his dark gaze still trapping me in place. My lungs clenched and my heart twisted in my chest.

  I could almost hear Gracelynn’s voice echoing in my ears – telling me how good I played, how proud she was of me.

  But it wasn’t Gracelynn’s memories that broke me. It was the look on Killian’s face. That tortured expression. Like he had just seen a ghost from his past and maybe he had.

  I carried Gracelynn’s ghost on my shoulders and Killian’s lover in my eyes. I was Julianna, but I was also the ghost that haunted his dreams.

  How unfair it was.

  That our story had come to this.

  Nothing more but wrath and sorrow.

  Nothing less than a tainted past that wrote our future.

  There was a single breath of silence before the ballroom erupted in claps and loud whispers. Killian and I both flinched, our gazes finally breaking apart.

  My breath was lodged in my throat as I watched him walk away, disappearing behind the pillars, and tears burned the backs of my eyes.

  William came to me first and I quickly took his out-stretched palm, glad for the help and stood up. Soon enough, I was surrounded by guests. Some praising how well I played; others asking where I had learned to play, while a few gentlemen were just vying for my attention.

  They crowded around me and I didn’t know what to do, my attention elsewhere – on the man who had just disappeared behind the pillars – leaving me with these vultures as my heart hammered against my ribs.

  The ground swayed underneath my feet and my bodice seemed to be squeezing my chest. I fought to inhale a desperate breath. My scars started to itch under the masquerade mask, my skin practically crawling. Sending the guests a tight smile, I excused myself and made my way out of the ballroom and into the dark, quiet corridor.

  My eyes closed in relief and I inhaled shakily, my hand going to my chest – where a fathom of an ache seemed to burrow itself under my flesh.

  A rough hand grasped my elbow and I gasped, my eyes flying open as I was slammed into one of the concrete pillars. A shadow towered over me, imposing and dangerous. Fear slithered down my spine until I caught a familiar spicy and musky scent.

  My gaze roved his brutally handsome face. The masquerade mask was missing and now, I could see his dark eyes clearly.

  “Killian,” I breathed.

  “For the longest time I had wanted to hear Grace play the cello, but she was always too shy.” His chest danced against mine as he rumbled with a low, dangerous growl. “She said her sister played far better than her. I begged her, cajoled her to play for me, but she never did. Grace said she’d play it on our wedding day and I waited patiently for that day, only for it to never come. And here you are.”

>   My breath escaped me with a sharp exhale and my hands landed on his chest, trying to push him away – or maybe, to pull him closer. To wash away his pain and let it bleed into me.

  “You’re taunting me,” Killian hissed before he flung himself backward, dragging himself away from me. “Tonight was your payback, wasn’t it? You must have known how much I wanted Grace to play the cello for me. She must have told you. You knew this and yet, you did it, on purpose. You. Taunt. Me. With your eyes. With this goddamn cello, reminding me of what I’ve lost.”

  “No,” I choked. “That’s not true.”

  His eyes blazed with rage. “Liar.”

  He paced in front of me and I watched him drag a hand over his face, almost like he was fighting for control. The truth was on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed it, tasting its bitterness. I shook my head, strands of my hair coming undone from their pins.

  “You told me once that Gracelynn would have hated the man I had become. Well then, let me ask you this.” Killian sneered, taking a step toward me, forcing me to move backward. “Would Grace ever forgive you? For taking her life? For taking away her chance at happiness and love?”

  No.

  Please.

  Don’t.

  His brutal words cut through me, as if he wanted me to bleed – like he was desperate to make me hurt. My chest ached and I breathed at him to stop. I looked for an escape but there was none. I was trapped against the wall. It hurt. But he wasn’t done yet.

  “Don’t you think… Gracelynn would have hated the woman you have become?” he snapped, throwing my words back at me… so carelessly, so heartlessly. “You’re not the Julianna your sister loved either. How hypocritical of you to judge me when you’re the exact same.”

  With a growl of fury, I lunged sideways and grabbed the sword – a rapier – off the wall. Killian came to a halt when I pointed the tip of the sword at him.

  He grinned, almost cruelly. “What are you going to do with that, Beasty?”

  “I thought we agreed to be courteous with each other,” I clipped

  He straightened to his imposing height, his jaw clenching. “You pointing a sword at my face is most definitely not courteous,” he said, as if he didn’t just insult me, didn’t just throw such vicious words into my face without any care.

  My fingers shook around the handle of the sword, but I didn’t let it deter me. I didn’t let Killian’s rigid expression stop me because that was exactly his game. Back and forth, playing with my feelings – being a monster underneath that gentleman façade.

  “You started it. With your taunting and mocking words. When will you ever stop throwing my sister’s death in my face, Killian? I thought we were way past that.”

  Killian took a step forward, without any care that I currently had a sharp sword pointed at him. The tip of the double-edged blade brushed against the middle of his neck. My eyes widened when it pricked his skin and a drop of blood trickled down his throat.

  “You drive me utterly mad,” he said, his voice softening in such a deceptive manner. It was enough to make me waver and that was my mistake.

  Killian surged sideways; his arm snaked out and I didn’t even have a chance to blink. He grasped my elbow, tugging me toward him and spinning me around so quickly, I gasped. My heels slid on the floor; my back collided into his chest and his hand grasped mine, the one holding the rapier until the sharp blade was no longer pointed at him. But the side of the sword was now against my throat, while he trapped me against his chest.

  His head lowered, his lips brushing against my earlobe. “You drive me utterly mad,” he repeated, his voice still soft, against the back of my neck. “With that fucking cello. Looking like a goddamn angel under that chandelier sent to taunt me with her pretty fucking grey eyes. Playing the cello like a sad love song, your broken soul bleeding through it.”

  His hand tightened around mine, pressing the blade deeper against my throat, enough that I felt a burning sensation and I just knew, the sword had cut through my skin. A drop of my blood trickled down my throat and my chest heaved with a shaky breath.

  “So fucking haunting. So goddamn beautiful. How dare you, Julianna?” Killian rasped into my ear. “How dare you make me look at you as someone other than Gracelynn’s killer? It’s not fair for you to have such power over me.”

  His confession almost broke me completely, his words a lethal combination of wrath and confusion. A hint of awe and a lot of sorrow.

  Killian pulled away, his warmth leaving my back, no longer cocooning me with its sweet poison. I dropped the rapier at my feet, my body trembling. When I spun around, he was gone.

  Killian had disappeared as if he had never been here as if the memory was all in my head. But his scent still lingered and I tasted it on my tongue. My skin still tingled from his touch and my heart was in shambles, his words still echoing in my ears.

  I couldn’t go back in that ballroom. I couldn’t face these people without Killian as my shield. And I couldn’t look into their eyes and act like my marriage was anything but perfect.

  Because my story was a flawed and an imperfect tale.

  And I no longer had the courage to keep up with this pretty lie and perfect ruse.

  I took off my heels and with unsteady bare feet, I walked away and took the stairs to the East wing. The longer I stayed in this cursed castle, the harder it came to hang onto my sanity – or whatever was left of it. These ghosts haunted me, reminding me of how this castle held nothing but tragic love stories.

  My repentance came with a cost.

  My bleeding heart. My shattered soul. And my fragile sanity.

  Have I atoned for my sins now? How much more before it’s enough?

  I limped into my room, but came to a halt at the doorway. The stranger sitting on my bed stood up when he realized I was standing there.

  “Julianna,” he said, a voice so familiar – a voice I haven’t heard in three long years and my stomach hollowed, a sick feeling curling inside me.

  He lifted his masquerade mask off his face and gave me a grin, filled with pain and longing.

  “Simon,” I breathed.

  It didn’t matter how desperate I was to bury my secrets.

  When it came to all my lies, my past was quickly catching up to me.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Killian

  “Killian,” my father called out as I stalked down the corridor, away from the ballroom, away from everyone.

  I came to a halt, my fists clenching at my side. “Yes, father?”

  He stomped over, coming to stand in front of me, blocking my escape. “Where’s Julianna?”

  I flinched at the sound of her name. “I don’t know,” I gritted.

  His eyes turned into slits and his jaw tightened in a way that should have been a warning. But I just didn’t give a shit anymore.

  Julianna Spencer had me in knots and I was just so goddamn confused. I was supposed to hate her; I still did – but why the fuck did my heart ache when I looked at her?

  Thirty days and thirty nights with Julianna and now I was questioning my own feelings for her. How ironic. I vowed to make her life miserable, yet she was my nightmare. I was the monster; she was the villain. What a fucking pair, we were.

  “You can’t just leave the guests like this. Both you and Julianna left the ballroom and the guests will talk,” my father said, his voice thick with warning. I could see him controlling his temper.

  He knew this was all a ruse – this perfect image of Julianna and I as a couple.

  But how long could I and Julianna keep this façade going, when we couldn’t even spend one day without turning our marriage into a bloody battlefield?

  There was too much history between Julianna and I – our pasts way too intertwined with our present for us to have a better future. My hatred and her repentance. Her sorrow and my rage.

  I took a deep breath and concealed my emotions, giving my father a calm and composed expression. I was Killian Spencer – a man with restrai
nt. It didn’t matter that I had a wife who made me feel so out of control, I had to be contained.

  “You can just tell them that Julianna was feeling unwell, so we’re retiring early. I have to take care of my wife,” I said.

  His brows furrowed. “That will spread more gossip.”

  I raked a hand through my hair and dug my fingers into the back of my neck, massaging the tensed muscles there. “What gossip now?”

  “You know damn well what I’m talking about,” my father growled.

  Realization dawned on me a bit too late and I nodded. Right. Pregnancy rumors.

  “Isn’t that even better then? What more proof do they need that Julianna and I are happily married than the news of a child? Let them gossip. It will keep them busy until we are ready to announce the good news.”

  “And when will that be?” he questioned icily, crossing his arms over his chest.

  For fuck’s sake.

  “I know what I have to do, what is expected of me – Julianna and I both. When the time is right, it will happen. You’ll be the first to know,” I fumed, the words tasting acidic on my tongue, and I swallowed it down, feeling the way it burned my throat.

  “A child is a blessing,” my father conferred.

  I scoffed, but he glared and I wisely shut up. My father was practically on his deathbed and I had neither the energy nor the courage to argue with him.

  He wanted to see his grandchild before he died and I’d grant him that – it didn’t matter how much it pained me to do so. The rage festered underneath my skin, feeding on my flesh and burrowing itself into my bones, the very marrow of who I am.

  “This is not a job, Killian,” my father reprimanded and I arched an eyebrow in response. “A baby is the physical symbol of a couple’s love. It is to be treasured and pregnancy is a time that bonds the to-be parents. It’ll be an intimate nine months. You’ll have to care for her.”

  Fucking Julianna was one thing.

  Taking care of her was asking too much of me.

  Anyway, Julianna and I had a deal.