by James, Lylah
So far, all of their investigations had led to dead ends. That made the situation even more dangerous, because we were completely blind when it came to whoever was the culprit. We had no idea who was behind the accident and who was still hunting me, three years later.
“Julianna?” Mirai said, her chirpy voice breaking through my thoughts.
“Hmm. Yes, I’m listening.”
“Remember the unopened letters we found? From Elias?” she asked.
Right, those. After putting Arabella’s letters and poems back into her drawers, I decided against opening the letters from Elias. The past should be kept in the past, where it belonged.
I no longer felt the need, the insistent pull toward Arabella’s tragic tale. Maybe it was because I had somehow broken the invisible chains that kept me shackled to the past stories of the castle when I decided to give my own tale another chance.
To re-write my own story, without the tragic ending.
“I left them unopened,” I said to Mirai. For specific reasons that I didn’t have to tell her.
“Yes, about that. Don’t be mad at me,” she started, practically pleading. “I was just so curious and I couldn’t stop myself. So um, I opened those letters and read through them.”
“Oh.” I shook my head, half-smiling. “Why am I not surprised?”
“But Julianna, you have to see this!” Her shrill voice came through the phone and I winced. “All this time, we thought wrong. You have to read through Elias’s letters. It gives you a whole new perspective of things.”
My chest squeezed at the thought of going back down that path. Obsessing over that cursed story, like it was my own. “I don’t think I should.”
“Fine,” she said, quickly relenting. “You don’t have to read through all of them. I’ll send you the only important one. It’s short, but it tells you everything we need to know. The details we were missing in Arabella’s story.”
To appease Mirai and her pure enthusiasm, I agreed. “Send me a photo.”
“Yes!” I imagined her pumping her fists in the air. She really was a ball of innocence and joy. Though her story was also tainted by the cruelty of fate, Mirai didn’t allow it to deter her from finding joy in the little things in life.
Two seconds later, my phone vibrated with a notification. I opened the message and tapped on the photo that Mirai sent me. “Did you get it?” she questioned.
I hummed in response. “Yes, give me a minute to read through it.”
Arabella,
I have thought of how to start this letter more times than I could count. Though every time I begin to write the first sentence, I find myself without words.
I did not know when it started or how it started.
Maybe it was the first time when you openly wept in my arms after the loss of our first child. Or maybe it was the time when we waltzed at Appleton’s Ball and you had worn that emerald dress, matching the color of your eyes. I remembered your shy smile when I had complimented your looks.
And I still do remember the taste of that peach tart on your lips.
I do not know when but somehow, you have started to take over my thoughts.
Your shy smile. Your tender touch. Your soft lips.
I now noticed things I never did before.
The way your fingers glide over the piano with sweet precision.
You prefer peaches over strawberries.
You prefer reading Shakespearean tragedies over watching an opera.
Your favorite color is pastel-blue, specifically.
I notice the way your lips curl with a gentle smile at Charlotte’s laughter. I can see how much you adore my sister’s baby and I can feel how much it pains you.
What I had with Rosa was young love, pretty and immature. Reckless. For the longest time, I thought I knew what it meant to be in love. But I had not even scratched the surface of it.
Until my feelings for you matured over the last four years of our marriage. It started slow, burning through me, but I was too foolish to understand it.
Now that I do, I fear it has taken me too long and that I might have lost you forever.
I hope you can forgive me.
I hope you allow me another chance.
Our marriage is more than a ruse, my sweet Arabella.
When I return from this expedition, I vow to woo you the way you deserved to be wooed from the very beginning.
Your husband,
Elias.
My heart stammered in my chest and I reread the letter again, to confirm that what I read was indeed correct.
“Have you read it yet?” Mirai asked.
“Yes.” How cruel could fate be?
The only thing Arabella ever wanted was to have her husband’s love and adoration. She craved Elias’s undivided attention. She waited for four very long years, while her husband loved another.
“His letters didn’t reach her on time,” Mirai whispered, sounding quite heartbroken. “While Elias was cutting his trip short to surprise his wife, Arabella died thinking she was unloved.”
Arabella persevered through her marriage and when it was finally time to reap the sweet fruits of her patience, fate decided to play a twisted joke on her. How unfair that her story was written with such cruelty and tragedy.
“Elias died two months after Arabella, right?” I asked Mirai for confirmation.
“Yes. The rumors were that he died of heartbreak when he found out that his ex-lover had married another man.”
“The rumors were not true,” I muttered.
“No. There are more letters written by Elias after the passing of Arabella, detailing his distress and heartache over his wife’s death,” Mirai said, her voice thick with emotion. “It’s true he died of heartbreak. But not because of his ex-lover. He mourned Arabella’s death and the pain was too much for him to bear. He died of heartbreak…”
“For Arabella,” I finished.
“A lost love story, based on misunderstandings and too much wasted time,” Mirai sighed.
Arabella’s life was a tragic tale and I was almost convinced that the castle was truly cursed. There were no happy endings for any of the four couples who lived there.
I wanted my own love story to be different, cursed castle or not.
Killian and I were not going to be a tragedy.
After all the pain and sorrow – despair and heartache – we deserved our own happy ending.
My love story might not have been a perfect fairy tale.
It was messy and ugly, stained by guilt and tarnished with grief. Killian and I were a tale of flawed love.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Julianna
Killian glanced up my bare body as I straddled him. “Feeling bold today, wife?” His voice was deep and warm, like sweet molasses and melted chocolate.
“You like me bold,” I said, tossing my hair over my shoulders.
His eyes gleamed devilishly. “Arrogance suits you.”
“I am a Spencer now.” His approval of my boldness was evident in his arousal. His erection dug in the curve of my ass as I lowered myself over his thighs. “Bold and arrogant seem like Spencer traits I had to become familiar with.”
Killian threw his phone on the nightstand, finally giving me his undivided attention. He crossed his arms behind his head and gave me a lazy look. “What do you think you’re going to do now?”
I circled his nipple with my thumb, feeling it pucker under my teasing touch before I trailed a finger down his strong abs. “I am going to fuck you,” I breathed, with a newfound confidence that I didn’t have before.
His nostrils flared and his lips twitched into a half-smile. “Tempting,” he rasped. “Don’t disappoint me, wife.”
I was only teasing, but now he had to go and turn this into a challenge. With my hands planted over his chest, I leaned forward so that my breasts were up close to his face.
My nipple brushed over his mouth. “Suck me,” I ordered. “My nipples. I want you to lick and bite me. Make
it good. Make it hurt. Don’t disappoint me, husband.”
Killian was always the dominant one in bed and he was, of course, a generous lover but tonight, he has relinquished that tight control. And I was planning to take full advantage of that.
His eyes darkened before he took my aching nipple between his lips. The warm suction of his mouth as he suckled me had my eyes almost rolling in the back of my head. His teeth grazed the tight bud before biting down, enough to hurt. But it was a sweet pain.
I gasped, my hips bucking over his erection. His tongue laved the sting away before he turned his head to the side, giving my other nipple the same careful attention.
All the while, I grinded on his lap. My lust coated the inside of my thighs as I rubbed myself against him. His thick length parted my lower lips, rubbing along my sex as my hips moved back and forth.
“What else?” he questioned roughly.
Instead of responding, I brushed my lips over his. A tender kiss, waiting and testing to see if he’d fight for dominance. Killian’s body tensed but he otherwise remained passive, yielding to my control.
Oh God.
To dominate a man like Killian Spencer was an exquisite feeling. Addictive.
My kiss turned more demanding, my tongue plunging into his mouth – tasting him. He kissed me back, with the same fevered passion. He was intoxicating and I was drunk on him, on the way he felt against my lips, the taste of him and his grunts of pleasure.
When our lips separated, I was breathless, my chest heaving. Sweet hell.
There was nothing more addicting than Killian’s dominance, but his surrender made me ache. I swallowed, before letting out a breathy gasp when the tip of his hardness slid over my sensitive clit.
Killian kept his hands behind his head and he laid still, allowing me free rein over his body. But I noticed the dark glint in his eyes and the way his shoulders were tensed, almost like he was holding himself back from touching me.
My eyes darted between our bodies and my mouth went dry at the sight of his thick erection nestled between us, swollen and hard against my wet and pink sex. His length was coated with my arousal.
I found myself growing more damp at the lewd sight. I liked how seductive and powerful I felt right now and how Killian was carefully restraining himself to allow me this moment.
My hands wandered over his abs, feeling his muscles ripple under my teasing touch. When I reached his pelvis, the only reaction I got from my husband was a sharp intake of breath.
I lifted my hips so I could wrap my hand around his length. He was so big and swollen in my palm as I squeezed him.
I shifted until my entrance was right over his tip. My thighs tightened around him while Killian clenched his jaw. “It’s cruel for you to tease me like this,” he hissed.
“Whoops.”
His chest rumbled with a deep sound. “Julianna.”
“Killian,” I breathed. With our eyes locked on each other, I slowly lowered myself onto his shaft.
Killian grunted in response.
I let out the softest whimper as his thickness stretched me. I paused when he reached the depth of me, my inner walls spasming around him.
“Fuck,” he swore, his voice gravelly. His dark eyes were laced with pure, unadulterated lust. And I reveled in his gaze.
I circled my hips tentatively and Killian groaned. “You’re such a goddamn tease.”
I lifted myself over his hardness, watching my husband grind his jaw as he fought to remain contained. His breathing was ragged, almost painful, and sweat formed over his forehead.
“You feel so good inside me,” I confessed shakily.
I quickly found a rhythm, bouncing up and down on his erection. My nails dug into his chest and his hips jerked up. Finally.
Killian was losing his calm composure and I watched him come undone beneath me.
I leaned forward, still fucking him – and my lips feathered over his. “You’re so big, I like how you stretch me. Almost painfully, but it’s a sweet burn.”
“Goddamn it,” he growled. “Julianna.”
Finally, he snapped.
Killian rose in a seated position, his hands circling my hips, digging hard into my flesh. I was certain his touch would leave bruises tomorrow morning. This new position pushed me farther down onto his cock, the tip of him hitting deep inside of me. My hands flew to his shoulders, nail digging into his flesh.
Fire burned through my veins and my core tightened around him. The deep ache in the pit of my stomach grew fierce, spreading through my body.
I burned.
I ached, with such exquisite pain.
With almost a frantic need, my pace quickened. I bounced up and down on his hard length, taking him inside the tight sheath of my sex, over and over again. Feeling him. Burning for him. Needing him so desperately like I needed my next breath.
His hips bucked every time to meet mine. Our bodies collided together, simply driven by unleashed passion.
Almost too soon, I peaked over the edge and my climax rolled through my body, hard and fast. My back arched and the chords of my neck strained as my eyes fluttered closed.
“Killian,” I gasped. “Oh, oh God!” My mind was fuzzy as my released washed over me, cocooning me like a thick blanket.
My pace slowed as my body grew languid and Killian growled. “Don’t you dare fucking stop.”
He lifted me up in his arms, before thrusting up hard. I cried out, my body spasming.
Killian’s chest rumbled against mine. With a grunt, he flipped us over, losing the rest of his tight control. While I enjoyed his short surrender, I had been waiting for him to snap.
And, he did.
I gasped, my back arching off the bed when Killian pummeled inside me. His hand slid behind me, cupping my ass and raising my hips off the bed. He settled between my thighs, spreading them farther apart until I was wide open for him.
To be taken.
To be devoured.
To be fucked.
Killian pounded inside me, losing the last bit of his control. Thrust. I gasped. Thrust. He grunted. Thrust. I whimpered and he groaned.
His face was hard, eyes gleaming with untamed lust, and his body shuddered as he filled me with his release, his length jerking with spurt after spurt of his seed.
Killian collapsed on top of me, his body strong and warm. My arms curled around his shoulders and he buried his face into the crook of my neck.
“Do you still hate me?” I asked, repeating the very same question every day.
And his answer was always different.
His lips whispered over my pulse in my throat, teeth grazing my sensitive skin. “How can I hate you, Julianna?” he said huskily.
My heart slammed into my rib cage at his choice of words.
Killian propped himself up on his elbows, gazing down at my flushed face. “You’ve dug yourself under my skin, into my bones. You fucking stabbed me in the chest, I’m bleeding for you, Princess. You kill me and I still fucking need you like I need my next breath. I need you as much as I want to destroy you. How is that possible?”
“My love is toxic,” I said, my voice groggy and thick with emotion.
“It’s fucking poison,” he agreed.
Tears welled up in my eyes and I sniffled. “I’m sorry.”
His thumb stroke along my jaw, before brushing over my lips. The mask fell away from his face and I finally saw what he was holding back… the real Killian.
“I did things to you, things I’ll never forgive myself for,” he confessed hoarsely. The look of anguish in his dark eyes broke me.
I shook my head. “I’m not holding it against you.”
His head lowered and our lips met, feverish and needy. There was urgency in our kiss, but also exquisite tenderness. Killian kissed me like he feared I would disappear. My arms tightened around him, while he clung to me.
A tear slid down my scarred cheek.
I found both my redemption and salvation on his lips.
&nb
sp; I woke up, my body exhausted, but my mind completely rested. For the first time in three years, I felt peaceful. Like I finally belonged.
The urge to hurt myself wasn’t there. The guilt and despair that used to gnaw at my inside was silent. I stretched before rolling over to grab Killian’s pillow. I pulled it against me and tucked my head into it, inhaling his lasting scent.
A grin spread over my lips, but it fell away when I noticed something different. Something that wasn’t there before.
I blinked, staring at my left hand. Was this–?
My eyes widened and I gasped, sitting up straight. My humongous diamond ring was gone. Replaced by a cushion-cut halo diamond ring. The very same one that Killian gave me the first time we became engaged, before the accident.
When Gracelynn died, I was forced to give up my ring too. Killian had taken it away, thinking that his fiancée was dead and there was no need for the Romano family to keep the engagement ring.
I stared at my left hand, my heart stammering in my chest. Killian must have exchanged the rings while I was asleep.
I missed that side of Killian – the considerate and romantic side of him.
Tears of joy flooded down my cheeks and I clutched my aching chest, not knowing if I should be happy or fearful.
Because whenever I was happy and each time I found solace in the arms of Killian… something bad always happened. Tragedy after tragedy.
I guessed I was afraid to be happy.
But for once, I just wanted to forget all the bad and think of all the good.
So, I quickly shoved away the feeling of dread.
A knock rapped against my door. After securely wrapping the sheets around my naked body, I called for the person to enter. Malay, the housekeeper, walked inside with a tray. “Killian asked me to deliver your late breakfast to you in bed. He said you might be too exhausted to come down,” she said smoothly.
“Oh.” I cleared my throat, fighting back a smile. He was right. I was pretty sore after last night’s activity. Killian took me twice before we fell asleep, tangled in each other’s arm. And then he woke me up in the middle of the night, for a quick fuck. It was hard and fast – the reason why I was sore this morning.
