A Vow Of Hate by Lylah James

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

 

Killian

 

“I wouldn’t be surprised if Killian runs for President in the next election,” Richard said, gesturing toward me with his flute. “You’d be a popular candidate.”

“Yes,” I agreed absently, my eyes searching for Julianna across the ballroom.

I shouldn’t have left her alone for this long. God knows what trouble she was getting into now. When my gaze finally found her wine-red dress, I had to do a double take at the sight of her dancing – waltzing – with Gabriel.

For fuck’s sake.

Of course, Gabriel would jump at the opportunity to try and sweep Julianna off her feet. That was what he was good at. Gabriel was eight years older than me, a close friend and a business partner – but when it came to sex, our opinions were vastly different. He was a womanizer, through and through. A well-known rake and now he was trying to charm Julianna.

And my dear wife was falling for it as I watched her flutter her fucking lashes at him and smile prettily.

“Excuse me,” I said, my voice tight, as I stepped away from the group of gentlemen and stalked toward the dancing pair, bypassing other waltzing couples.

My shoulders tensed when I approached them and heard Julianna’s soft giggle. What was so fucking amusing? I didn’t know Gabriel was a goddamn comedian.

Once I was close enough to the dancing pair, I tapped Gabriel on the shoulder. “I’m going to have to steal my wife, Gabe. Find another dance partner.”

He grinned, mischief flashing in his dark eyes, but he wisely took a step away. I took his place, my arm curling around Julianna’s waist, tugging her to me, and we continued where they had left off.

I spun Julianna once before pulling her to my chest again. Her hand went back to my shoulder, fingers digging into my muscles in warning.

“You looked quite cozy with Gabriel.”

Julianna made an exasperated sound in the back of her throat. “He’s your friend and a business partner. I was only trying to get along with him.”

Gabriel had a thing for married women. It was his hobby – to use and defile those women before sending them back to their clueless husbands. I remembered his words clearly. A virgin was a risky fuck; they grew attached too quickly and too easily. But married women? Easy fuck and experienced – without any need to form an attachment. He was the reason for many failed marriages.

I knew he respected our friendship enough that he would never make a move on Julianna – though he was going to be a shameless flirt. That was literally his character. Charming and a flirt who knew exactly how to get women to bow down to him.

But it wasn’t just Gabriel. I was more concerned about the other men staring and drooling at Julianna, like she was up for an auction and they were about to bid on her. And her dancing with Gabriel had unknowingly made her a willing target for these hungry wolves. Julianna had left herself open and vulnerable.

“A married woman like yourself shouldn’t be dancing so close with another man – especially not with a well-known rake. Your tits were smashed up against his chest, Julianna,” I practically barked in her face.

She glared at me, her grey eyes gleaming with something fierce. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say Killian Spencer is jealous.”

“Beasty,” I drawled. “If I were to be jealous, I would have to feel something for you.”

The corner of her lips pulled up. “You hate me. That’s quite a strong emotion, husband.”

“And you despise me. That’s a pity, wife.” My hand pressed into her lower back, guiding her around the ballroom as we danced in circles.

“What I feel for you is the opposite of disdain,” Julianna said, her voice softening.

I smiled, humorlessly. “Oh, please do tell. What do you feel for me, Beasty?”

“If I tell you, I would have to spill my secrets, but some secrets are not meant to be told.”

“You’re talking in riddles again.”

She nudged her chin up, giving me that haughty look she has recently mastered. “And we’re currently sharing our second dance. I thought our first one would be our last, or so you said.”

My chest vibrated with a sound that even surprised me. Though Julianna was right, I didn’t want to admit it. I had vowed to keep my distance, yet here I was, saving my clueless wife from well-known philanderers who would do anything just to have five minutes with her behind the pillars. She was a wealthy married woman with class and respect – they’d love to defile her.

“Your taunting will cost you dearly, wife,” I warned thickly.

“I thought you didn’t like me docile,” she shot back.

“It appears that sometimes I would prefer when you shut up. If you don’t know how, I know a few ways to help.”

Julianna cracked a smile. “Very well, then. Would you mind helping me with that?”

“What?”

“Shutting me up. You offered to help me. Go ahead. Shut me up, husband.”

Her teeth grazed her lower pouty lip, biting down. For the briefest moment, I wondered how she’d look without the mask. Red lips. Fierce grey eyes. Silky black hair pinned up. A face with scars that told a sad fucking story.

“That’s very bold of you. Don’t challenge me; you don’t want to see what I can do.”

“I’m very curious, Killian. What can you do?”

Oh, she was feeling brave tonight. My wife wanted to play and so, I would grant her this one wish. One little game to be played.

I slightly bent my head so I could whisper in her ear, letting my lips brush against her earlobe. “I almost brought you to orgasm at our dining table, in front of my father – we both know very well what I can do.”

I didn’t miss the way her body tensed or the shaky breath she released. Her hand squeezed mine, almost involuntarily. “That was a rare circumstance. I was just–”

“Needy? So deprived of a man’s touch that you almost came from me barely even touching your cunt? I am the man you despise and yet, you were greedy for more.”

“– caught off guard, I was going to say,” she growled.

Such a pretty liar.

My wife could despise me as much as she wanted – but she burned for my touch. Her body responded to me like we had known each other for a lifetime, like she was born to be mine. Greedy. Wet. Needy. I could almost taste her yearning on my tongue – sweet and bitter.

“Do you touch yourself at night, when you’re alone in bed… at the memories of my fingers between your thighs, caressing your pussy?”

Julianna let out a choked sound and she stumbled, before quickly finding her footing again. “Excuse me?”

My lips curled at the way she stuttered, blinking up at me in what I assumed was embarrassment. I could almost imagine her cheeks flushing with heat.

“Now, now. Don’t be so shy. I haven’t come to your bed yet, so you must have touched yourself at least once since our marriage. If not before, then definitely after what happened in the dining hall. I did leave you wet and needy, after all. On the precipice of an orgasm. You must have ached, so badly. Or is it that you have taken another man to your bed since we married?”

My taunts made her eyes gleam darker. Her red lips thinned into a straight line and I felt myself grinning.

I knew very well Julianna hasn’t been with a man since our marriage – I was only taunting her, pushing her buttons because I quite enjoyed the look in her eyes whenever she snapped.

And even if she did take another man to her bed – I would have found out and the poor man would have been dead by now. His body, with all its shattered bones, dumped into the ocean, dragged away by the waves into the depth of the sea. Where no one would have found him. His existence very easily erased from history.

“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.