A Vow Of Hate

by James, Lylah

  “She has plenty of people ready to care and serve her. She doesn’t need me.”

  My father made an exasperated sound in the back of his throat. “No. You have to care for her. Julianna doesn’t need you, but she will want you. There’s a very big difference between the two.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” I shot back.

  “Because I need you to realize that your job doesn’t end the moment Julianna becomes pregnant. Your real job as her husband and a father begins then.”

  “Julianna and I made a deal–”

  “I don’t care about your deal with Julianna.” He stabbed a finger into my chest. “You. Are. Married. You have responsibilities. You want to be the President of the United States? Well, guess what – figure out how to keep your marriage together first before you try to keep a whole goddamn country together. I don’t doubt for a second that you have all the characteristics a future leader needs and you’re capable of being someone big, someone with much power – but right now? You’re just a wounded man. Figure out your priorities, Killian. Before it’s too late.”

  My father stomped away and I was left with a hollow chest, an aching heart, and his brutal words echoing in my ears.

  He was right, though – every word he uttered rang with bitter truth.

  Fists clenching at my sides, I stalked away – further into the shadows of the dark corridor.

  Marrying Julianna was more than an arrangement between two families. It was my act of vengeance, but seven months into our marriage and I was starting to see a different version of my wife. I had expected a haughty heiress. I thought her atonement was only an act. So that people would pity her.

  But instead, I found myself with a spitfire wife; a broken Julianna – who was deep in her own misery, her repentance ugly and messy. She suffered in silence and I watched her, gleefully.

  Until her pain became my own – without me even realizing it.

  How? I don’t know.

  She maddened me.

  She confused me.

  Julianna was not the woman I imagined her to be.

  And I was a lost sailor in a storm – my heart had been shipwrecked and I was drowning.

  A long moment later, I found myself in the East wing, as if I was only a puppet being dragged by the strings of a puppet master. Right fucking here.

  I shouldn’t have been here – not when I was in this state, yet I found myself at the doorstep of her bedroom. Unwillingly. Unconsciously. As if I had been called here by something invisible – intangible. I released a shuddering breath, feeling the way my heart thudded in my chest.

  How goddamn ironic that the woman who was the cause of my dead heart was also behind my untold solace.

  Her door was slightly ajar and when hushed voices came to my attention, I leaned forward, peeking inside.

  The first thing I saw was Julianna sitting on the bed, her back to me.

  With a man, standing over her. A man I didn’t recognize.

  His expression morphed into something akin to misery. There was just something in the way he looked at her, or just how comfortable Julianna seemed to be in his presence. They looked like old friends or more – someone important to each other – it was written all over their body language. How familiar they were in each other’s presence.

  My hand tightened around the doorknob when he gave her a bittersweet smile.

  “Did you know? That Grace was pregnant with your baby?” Julianna whispered.

  He shook his head sharply. “She didn’t tell me but I knew.”

  My brain stuttered for a moment until it dawned on me. What Julianna had said. What they were whispering about.

  My body tensed as my blood grew cold.

  No. This couldn’t be right.

  I stumbled away from the door, but their voices still followed me, like a mad storm lashing through the air and cutting through me with such violence.

  Grace was pregnant?

  My chest tightened and the ache intensified.

  Fuck.

  Goddamn it.

  The truth of my love tasted like ash in my mouth. I couldn’t breathe. All this time, I had thought my love story was some tragic tale. But my love was anything but pure – it had been stained.

  Not by Julianna or the blood she spilled that night.

  It had been tarnished by Gracelynn herself.

  My pride had shattered at my feet. My love had been nothing but ugly. My story wasn’t tragic. It was a reckless first love and I had been cut, bone-deep by my own stupidity.

  What a fucking fool I had been.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Julianna

  Your mouth tastes of cigar and sorrow,

  I like the way my name sounds on your lips.

  But your smile will fade come morrow.

  It is wintry and I am lonely,

  Please come back.

  Your mouth tastes of cigar and sorrow,

  I like the way you hold me,

  Even when I know it is all a ruse – a bleeding arrow.

  For you still envisage her when you bed me.

  Your mouth tastes of cigar and sorrow,

  I like the way you touch me,

  So coldly, like the dead wings of a sparrow,

  And I have begun to crave your warmth.

  Your mouth tastes of cigar and sorrow,

  I do not like the way you left me without a second glance,

  After your soft caress had been so thorough.

  Please come back.

  - A

  I settled on the bed, my body tingling with frayed nerves. I had never imagined seeing Simon again, not after… everything.

  He paced around the room, taking a quick look into my adjoined bathroom and library and then out of the window. Simon had always been vigilant and it seemed like he hadn’t changed a bit. Old habits die hard, I presumed.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice shaking.

  Simon, with his curly hair slicked back and glassy green eyes, smiled at me. “I wanted to see how you were doing.”

  I gestured around the room, a humorless laugh leaving my lips. “As you can see, I’m doing quite well. I’m married and very much in love with my husband.”

  His eyes narrowed on me. “What a pretty liar you are.”

  We both stared at each other for a second before I cracked a smile. “How are you doing, Simon?”

  “Surviving,” he deadpanned. “You?”

  “Surviving,” I repeated softly.

  I watched him run a hand over his face, almost tiredly. “I thought this would be easy but I never considered that looking at you would stir up old memories.”

  “Old memories are hard to let go, especially when they are good memories,” I said, the words practically coming out choked.

  His gaze brushed over me, from head to toe. Lingering for a second too long on my black hair and then my masquerade mask. “Sometimes good memories can turn out to be bitter.”

  I swallowed, fighting down the ball of tears in my throat. “Life would be boring without some bitterness every now and then.”

  I watched as he walked toward the window, leaning against the sill. He was trying to act composed, but I could see how tensed he was. Like he was getting ready to jump out of the window at any moment. Like he didn’t want to be here, but he was forced to. “When did you become so…perceptive?” he grumbled.

  “When I realized that I was a murderer – unknowingly.”

  Simon inhaled sharply and his eyes darted away from me, his expression growing tight. “Fuck, Julianna. It’s like you want us to hate you.”

  I lifted a shoulder, half-shrugging. “That would make it a lot easier than sympathy.”

  His lips thinned. “And this is why you’re still lying to your husband?”

  I could feel my hackles rising as he openly judged me. Simon knew a lot about my secrets and he shouldn’t have been here. This was a bad idea. “My lies are none of your concern.”

  “It is when it
has to do with Grace,” he said sharply.

  My eyes turned into slits, glaring at the man standing in front of me – questioning me as if he had the right to – as if he knew what it felt like to live with the man I loved, yet he loathed me with every cell in his body.

  “Our secrets were buried with her,” I said, trying to be firm, but the moment the words were spilled, I realized how weak they sounded.

  He arched an eyebrow, almost mockingly. “You can’t bury a secret like that. It will come back to haunt you, now or tomorrow. One day, for sure.”

  I shook my head but Simon took a step forward, advancing toward me. “You fooled him, then and now. That’s not fair, Julianna.”

  My fingers clenched the fabric of my dress. “You don’t know what’s fair.”

  “You’re not the only one hurting,” Simon snapped. “Stop making yourself out to be the martyr.”

  “I was the one in that car with her,” I hissed. “You don’t know what that’s like.”

  “I understand it was traumatic–”

  I scoffed. “Traumatic? That’s an easy word to describe looking into your sister’s bloodied and mangled face for three hours, staring into her dead eyes with the pungent scent of death cocooning you. That’s not trauma, Simon. That’s hell.”

  We stared at each other for a minute too long, both of us breathing heavily, the tension thick in the air.

  I swallowed numbly and shook my head. “I’m so – I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair to you.”

  When Simon didn’t respond, only kept staring at me like he was seeing a ghost, I let out a muffled sob. “Why are you here?”

  “I guess I wanted to torture myself some more.”

  I ruined so many lives that night…

  And we were all stuck in a never-ending loop of torment and rage. How do we break free? I didn’t fucking know. I didn’t know where to start or how to end this suffering, because I was the reason behind it all.

  “Did you know? That Grace was pregnant with your baby?” I whispered.

  He shook his head sharply. “She didn’t tell me but I knew.”

  Simon took a deep breath, his wide chest rattling from it. His fists clenched at his sides.

  “Her period was late. Then, I saw the small changes on her body. And she was sick in the morning for two weeks straight,” he explained. “I was her bodyguard, Julianna. I was supposed to notice every little detail about her. I was waiting for her to tell me.”

  I was the first to find out about Gracelynn’s pregnancy. I still remembered vividly the look of pure terror on her face, before it morphed into a confused giggle and happy tears. I was the one who held her when she broke down – when she realized that a baby would change everything.

  She was betrothed to one man.

  But loved another.

  She danced with one man.

  But made love to another.

  Gracelynn was set to marry Killian.

  But was carrying Simon’s baby.

  “And she never got a chance to,” I murmured. “Do you hate me?”

  Simon gave me a bittersweet smile. “I want to. I think I do hate you, but I’m also bound by the vows I made to Grace.”

  I flinched at the mention of vows. The vows I was familiar with only came with destruction, violence and rage. My failed marriage began with such promises.

  “What vows?”

  “She asked me – no – she told me to always take care of you if anything ever happens to her. I don’t think you know how much she loved and adored you. Grace would have used herself as a shield to protect you if she had to.”

  It felt like my chest had been split open, sending tiny cracks of my heart and fissures of my soul in all direction. A single tear slid down my scarred cheek, hidden behind my masquerade mask. “I know.”

  “I can’t even scream at you or hurt you for all the pain you’ve caused – because it would go against all of what Grace would have wanted. So, I’m bound by my vows and Gracelynn’s love. I hate you, but I can’t hate you.”

  His words made me want to crawl into a ball and die. He didn’t even realize it but every word he spoke stabbed me with such ruthlessness; I didn’t know if I could bleed more than I already did. “So, you’re forced to tolerate me with that smile on your lips and with such pain in your eyes. How cruel.”

  Simon shoved his hands into the pockets of his slacks, rocking back onto the balls of his feet. He stared at me for a moment, his eyes going to my left hand, where I was moving my wedding ring around my finger. I had been doing it unconsciously until he brought my attention to it.

  “What are you doing to yourself, Julianna?” he sighed, suddenly looking more weary than ever.

  I gestured around the room and then to myself. “This is my atonement.”

  “How cruel,” he said, repeating my own words.

  “You have to go; don’t come to see me again,” I said, my voice shaking and thick with unshed tears. “Stop tormenting yourself.”

  Simon gave me a long stare and I could almost see him debating with himself, trying to find the right words to pacify me. To make it better. But really, there was nothing he could say that would change the past.

  All it took was a single second.

  One very impulsive decision.

  And here I was.

  Watching the aftermath – the destruction – of my mistakes.

  Simon finally nodded, sharply. I watched him walk away, taking with him the last bit of Gracelynn that I carried in my bloodied hands.

  The bodice of my gown felt too tight around my chest, pinching me until I couldn’t really breathe. I released a harsh exhale, puffing and dragging a desperate breath into my lungs.

  I closed my hands into fists, my nails digging into my palm. It stung, like thorns pricking my flesh. I dug my nails deeper, cutting through my skin. I barely winced.

  The pain started with a pinch, almost unnoticeable, before it flared up. The harder I pushed my nails into the cut I had made, the burning sensation intensified. My palm throbbed.

  It distracted me.

  I opened my hand, utterly mesmerized by the sight of blood staining my palm.

  It hurt.

  But I liked the pain.

  I needed it.

  It called to me.

  Pain soothed me and I submerged myself in it.

  Killian

  “I want to wait… for our wedding night. For it to be special.”

  My fingers clenched around the whiskey glass, fury coursing through my veins. Hot and burning. With a loud bellow, I tossed the glass across the room. It crashed into the wall, breaking into tiny pieces and scattering around the room. The whiskey soaked the carpet while staining the wallpaper, a dark brown.

  When I was fourteen years old and I had realized the truth behind my parents’ marriage, I had vowed to myself that I would never settle for less than true love.

  I had thought I found that with Gracelynn.

  I had to hand it to my dead lover, though. She played me so fucking well, and I fell for it, like a fool I was. So blindly in love with her that I didn’t see her betrayal.

  All this time, I thought Julianna was the villain. But it was Gracelynn who had managed to break me, to crack me open completely.

  The woman I mourned for three years cheated on me. The woman I was meant to marry was carrying another man’s child.

  How fucking pathetic.

  Julianna knew. She fucking knew. Her sister was a cheater and a traitor, and while I mourned her, my wife didn’t even bother to tell me. Both Romano sisters played me well, it seemed.

  No more.

  I was done.

  Done being played.

  Done being the fool that I was for the wrong women.

  My father was right when he said I had to figure out my priorities. It was about fucking time I did so. Grabbing the bottle of whiskey, I bolted out of my room and blindly followed the path to the East wing.

  My body was tensed w
ith supressed anger. The poison of it ate at my flesh, sinking into my bones, into the marrow of me until I became one with it.

  My fury churned within, hungry for destruction. It hovered over me like a morning fog, clouding my judgment. Rage was deceitful, but goddamn it, right now – it tasted so fucking sweet on my tongue.

  In the back of my head, warning bells sounded. The maddening ghost on my shoulder hissed, telling me to stop. Urging me to think. Screaming at me that once the rage dissipated, I would be left with more regret than I could bear.

  But I wasn’t listening.

  I was beyond that.

  “I want to wait… for our wedding night. For it to be special.”

  I laughed, without any humor, but my laughter sounded just as mad as I felt. My legs carried me to my destination.

  I stalked inside Julianna’s room, her door slamming into the wall next to it. Julianna jumped, her hand going to her chest frantically. Her eyes darted around her room until they landed on me. She was still dressed in her wine-red gown, her masquerade mask hiding her face from me.

  “What are–”

  “Do you consent?” I asked, practically snarling the words. I kicked the door close with my foot.

  Her eyes widened. “You – I mean, tonight?”

  I brought the bottle of whiskey to my mouth and took a huge gulp, feeling the alcohol burn down my throat and that was the only thing keeping me somewhat sane. “Yes, tonight. Right now. Get fucking undressed, Julianna.”

  Her hand fluttered over her chest and she looked left and right, seeking some kind of answer from the boring walls. And when she couldn’t find any, her gaze landed on mine again.

  “Do you consent, wife?” I gritted.

  Her fingers fisted the tulles of her dress, burying her hands into the fabric. Her body was practically trembling with nerves and I almost felt sorry for her. “I’m willing,” she breathed.

  “Your red lips speak beautiful lies, wife.”

  She shook her head, vengefully. “No, I want this. Killian, I offer myself to you – willingly. I need this.”

  I gestured toward her with the bottle. “What are you waiting for then? I don’t mind fucking you in that dress, but we both know I will ruin it and you seem quite partial to this gown.”