A Vow Of Hate by Lylah James

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

 

Killian

 

It was Julianna’s pained whisper, my name on her lips, that made me pause at the threshold of her bedroom. And then a crash – something slamming into the floor had me spinning around.

My stomach dropped when I saw Julianna’s body on the floor, seizing. The rage immediately dissipated, like ice water had been dumped over my head, and I jerked into motion without really thinking. My heart thudded in my chest as I rushed to her side, kneeling by her convulsing body.

“Grace–”

My immediate reaction was to gather her in my arms, but her body was almost rigid and her limps jerking rhythmically.

I didn’t know where to touch her… how to…

Oh fuck.

“Help! Shit!” I screamed. Where the fuck was Emily or Stephen? Goddamn it, who would even hear me? We were in the middle of the night and the castle was big enough that no one would hear me screaming from the East wing. Hell, someone could be murdered in here and no one would know until they’d stumble upon the rotting dead body.

I tried to remember what I read about seizures three years ago, when Gracelynn first told me about her epilepsy. My brain stuttered for a moment before I jumped into action.

Something soft… I needed something soft to put under her head.

My eyes darted around the room before I lunged for the blankets, dragging them off the bed and rolling them into a makeshift pillow. I cupped the back of her head, stopping it from slamming into the ground again, and slid the blanket under her head.

Her jaw was locked tight as spit gathered at the corner of her lips. Her eyes were pinched closed and her face scrunched as her body spasmed, again and with rhythmic motion. Frantically, I took out my phone and started a timer.

I remembered reading about this. It was important to time her epileptic seizures.

With my heart practically in my throat, I watched my wife – the woman I loved – go through a seizure. I kept an eye on the timer and the seconds ticked by as I quickly googled how to help a person going through an epileptic seizure.

At two minutes and fifteen seconds, her body went slack and her head lolled to the side. If I added the time before I started the timer, her seizure lasted less than four minutes.

Her chest heaved with each ragged breath she took. Her eyes stayed closed, but I saw her fingers moving, twitching slightly.

“Grace – Julianna?” I whispered hoarsely. “Can you hear me?”

Her lips parted with a slight moan. There were no words, but it was a response nonetheless. And when she didn’t immediately go into another seizure, I slowly rolled her over to her side, in the recovery position. “You’re safe,” I muttered. “You’re okay. I have you.”

I gently wiped away the spit that had gathered around the corner of her mouth with the back of my hand. Julianna let out a soft whimper again, but she didn’t open her eyes. I grasped her limp hand in mine and my heart stuttered when I felt a light squeeze from her. It was almost like an involuntary squeeze, weak and drowsy.

I almost missed it.

After a few minutes, Julianna remained somewhat unconscious – but thankfully, no more seizures, so I gathered her in my arms and carried her to the bed.

I pulled the blanket over her body, tucking her in before slumping into the chair next to her bed. There was an awful feeling pricking my chest, a mix of despair and frustration.

Anguished.

And rage.

Goddamn it, I didn’t know how to feel. I was so fucking confused. The fury that I had quickly pushed aside and buried within when Julianna had relapsed into a seizure was now back at full force. Slithering through my veins and burrowing itself into my bones.

I shook with how furious I was.

The sick feeling in my gut churned heavily, nausea bubbling in my stomach, and bile rose in my throat. Tasting acrid on my tongue.

My Gracelynn was Julianna.

Julianna was Gracelynn.

The same woman who was scared of horses, who smiled at me so tenderly, who trusted me to guide her through her fears…

I married the woman I loved through deceit.

I mourned the woman I loved, when she wasn’t even fucking dead.

I ran my fingers through her wild, platinum-blonde hair, before wrapping the length around my wrist, once then twice. The kiss deepened, her lips soft and inviting. Her tongue tentatively met mine, shy but curious.

“I want to wait for our wedding night… for it to be special,” she breathed into the kiss.

My lips curled into a half-smile. “I burn for you, Princess. But I’ll wait for you if it means finally having you in the way I desperately crave.”

“You’re a silver-tongued devil, Mr. Spencer.”

“You’re a devious temptress, Miss Romano.”

I remembered the first time I saw her, how utterly captivated I had been.

It was her hair, so unique.

Her eyes, so alluring.

Her lips, so sinful.

Every moment we had together, every kiss, every forbidden touch…

As much as it was real, it had all been based on a dubious lie. A cruel deception. I always thought Julianna and I were toxic together, but it was now I realized just how poisonous we were. We were fatal together, utterly destructive.

Our story was everything ugly and cataclysmic.

Anger was a silent huntress looming in the shadows, poised and ready to strike. It hovered over me like a fog, clouding my judgment. But it wasn’t just rage that held me captive.

It was the utter despair and agony at Julianna’s deception that made me sick.

My gaze roved her face, scars and all, before brushing over the unmarred side of her face. My head spun at the familiarity of it – of her delicate jaw, the curve of her full lips, her naturally long lashes and the tiny beauty spot on the bridge of her nose.

Gracelynn was a ghost, but she was here… in the shape and form of Julianna Spencer.

My wife.

A ghost I had loved and mourned for the last three years.

I rubbed a hand over my face, exhaustion finally hitting me. My head slumped back against the chair and I gazed at the ceiling. I must have dozed off, somehow my brain still active but also drifting into the world of unconsciousness, because I immediately jerked awake when I heard a rustling in bed.

My eyes met Julianna’s drowsy grey ones. She looked confused, her eyes slowly darting between my face and then around the room, almost sleepily.

I took a moment to admire her face, the familiarity of it without her black veil. The face that was ever-present in my dreams and the ghost that haunted my nightmares. It was in this moment that I realized her scars did nothing to hinder her beauty.

No one looked at the moon and thought of how bruised it was for the scarred moon’s beauty was more mesmerizing.

Her scars told a story, written on her flesh like a tragic tale. She was still the same Gracelynn – goddamn it – Julianna, from three years ago. Scarred, yet beautiful like the moon.

I thought of how easily it’d be to let myself be swept away by her tortured grey eyes and broken soul, but she had already killed my heart once.

The trust between my wife and I had already been so fragile. Now that it was broken, with some of the shattered pieces missing – there was no love, where there was no trust.

The unfairness of this situation filled my veins with poison. I should had been happy that she was alive. That I married the woman I loved – yet I felt anything but love for her in this very moment. There was a fine line between love and hate… but the lines had been blurred and the boundaries were no longer intact.

The walls had crumpled and we stood naked and bare, in the face of a bleeding love. It was tormenting to watch Julianna’s face, to be in her presence now that I had come to know of her lies.

“Killian,” she whispered my name, her lips barely moving.

Julianna lifted her arm from under the blankets and reached out for me. “Come closer,” she begged, her voice breaking. “Please.”

I grasped her hand in mine, our fingers interlacing together. My body shuddered at the touch and I squeezed my eyes shut. “I’m here,” I said, reassuring her.

She gripped my hand weakly, before dozing off again. I watched her sleep, the ache in my chest growing more intense. Unbearable.

How could we put all of this behind us and move on together?

My fingers dug into the wet dirt over Gracelynn’s fresh grave – where she had been buried, only an hour ago.

Thunder bellowed loudly, crashing through before the sky opened up. The storm raged around me, the skies crying agonized tears as I let out a pained roar.

The rain didn’t stop and it washed away my tears.

My clothes were soaked through as my body grew numb.

She… left.

She… was… gone.

The pain sliced through me at the memory of me kissing her, just last night. The taste of her lips still lingered on my own. My fingertips still tingled at the memory of how soft her skin was under my touch.

In a split second, our future had been ripped away from us. How cruel could fate be?

We were to be married in four months. The dreams of us being together, having kids and growing old together… they were all just that – a dream.

Nothing more, because reality was more brutal.

It wasn’t fair.

Our future had shattered. Now, there was just a grave. A stone that bore her name and her cold bones beneath the same dirt I was kneeling on, my fingers digging into it – as if I could reach deeper inside and gather her into my arms. One last time.

To brush my fingers over her face, one last time.

To feel her lips on my own, one last time.

To stare into her pretty grey eyes, one last time.

To feel her… one last time.

The numbness of her loss had passed. When the pain finally hit me, the reality of this finally crashing through me – the agony had me doubling over, my body racking with wretched sobs.

I roared, my own pain muffled by the storm raging above me, until my throat became parched. Until there was nothing but raw emptiness nibbling at my skin, digging itself under my flesh and burrowing into my chest. Like a disease.

Sick and deadly.

I grieved her.

For three years.

I mourned her.

For three very long years.

I carried my pain, turning my grief into an armor of rage.

She killed my heart.

She deceived my love.

She turned us into a tragic tale.

It was so unfair…

That I still cared for Julianna. Because I was so goddamn weak for her. On my knees, bleeding for her.

How was it possible to love and hate a person with the same passion?

Our story was tarnished with lies, deceit and death. And I didn’t know how to rewrite our story without the tragedy we had already gone through.

When the sun rose, the light shining through her curtains, I pulled my hand away from hers. Julianna slept on, her face serene under the morning light. My body was treacherous, because the moment my eyes slid over her pink lips, the urge to kiss her – to feel her lips on my own after three years – gnawed at me.

It was in that moment that I realized just how weak I was for Julianna Spencer.

I stood up, pushing the chair away. My gaze roamed her sleeping body, lingering over her face. Tattooing the sight of her into my brain. Scars and all.

My chest tightened, but I forced myself to take a step back. To walk away.

Because where there was no trust… there was no love.

And I didn’t know if I would ever love her again, without loathing her to the same degree.

Julianna

Day five and Killian’s absence still gnawed at my insides like an untreated wound, festering pus. It had been five days since I woke up from my seizure. I vaguely remembered Killian staying by my side through the night. Even though I had been drowsy and sleepy, I did wake up a few times in the middle of the night.

And Killian was always there, holding my hand.

But when I regained full consciousness in the morning, he was gone.

And I haven’t seen him since then.

He was still here, in the castle, that I knew. Mirai told me so.

The night of the masquerade ball, most of the guests had left the island. The morning after, I heard that our fathers and the rest of the guests left. So, Isle Rosa-Maria went back to its lonely state once again.

I expected Killian to leave too, especially after knowing my truth. A pang of distress spread through my body at just the mere thought of Killian leaving and never coming back.

He had all the reasons to leave now, to end this ruse. This was what I wanted, anyway. For him to leave. For him to finally walk away from this farce of a marriage and to move on.

But now that it has happened, the despair and agony was almost too much to bear.

Was this what heartbreak felt like?

The kind that kills you from the inside, wrenches your heart from your body and leaves it bleeding at your feet.

The kind that feels like a slow, torturous death.

Because that was exactly what it felt like to watch Killian walk away.

I thought the guilt over my sister’s death was a heavy burden, but God – Killian’s absence in the last five days had left an aching hole in my chest. The sorrow of his loss burrowed itself so deep inside me, I didn’t know how to separate that feeling from my other emotions.

I almost wanted him to barge into my room, to scream at me for all the unfairness. To hate me for my lies. I waited for five days, my eyes on the door, hoping he’d walk through them.

I would bear the brunt of his anger and frustration.

It was my fault, anyway… that we were in this situation.

So I wouldn’t blame him.

Because I’d rather his rage than his silence.

Our love was cursed, to be told like a tragic tale of two lovers never coming together as one. Our story was one of melancholy and self-destruction. Sweet poison, with no real antidote.

How do I fix this?

The pressure in my chest grew heavy and I fisted the blankets, while I forced myself to remember to breathe. My eyes darted around the room, before landing on the stack of unopened letters on my nightstand.

While I haven’t left my room since that night, trying to regain my strength after my epileptic seizure, I had one constant companion. Mirai came to my room every morning, so we’d eat breakfast together and she’d talk non-stop. Telling me about her day, gossiping about the maids and basically recounting anything about everyone who lived in the castle. Past and present.

Mirai was also my unofficial spy. She stalked my husband around the castle, but Killian had also confined himself to his room. He only left for each meal and that was it. There was nothing much for Mirai to report back. But at least I knew he was still here, on the island.

So close, yet so far.

The stack of letters left on my nightstand, was by Mirai. She said she found these in a chest in Arabella’s room. They were from the Marquees of Wingintam – Elias, but though they were old and looked quite rumpled, they were unopened. Mirai left these letters two days ago, but for some reason… I didn’t feel the need to open them.

I had been so lost in Arabella’s sad love story that I had forgotten how tragic my own was. It’d be easy to blame it on this cursed castle, but the real reason was my own lies and deception.

There was force pressing down on my body, feeding my exhaustion. After fighting it for so many days, I surrendered.

I no longer had the strength to keep fighting, because I found comfort in the coldness of an empty void. Numbness was better than feeling too much.

I remembered the storm inside of me, the swirl of emotions. How I’d look in the mirror, and every time I saw my reflection, I didn’t know who was staring back.

My guilt rattled its chain of regret within me. The shackles around my ankles dragged me under their weight. My need for atonement no longer stirred within the ruins of my broken soul.

My repentance had come to an end.

For I found salvation. Or I thought I did.

My salvation was only a pretty illusion.

Because now that I had truly lost Killian, I didn’t know what else to do with myself. I didn’t know what my purpose was anymore.

What to live for?

How to feel…

I just… didn’t know.

Lost in the sea of confusion, I surrendered to the numbness nibbling at my flesh.

There was a silence in my soul that I had never felt before. It wasn’t peaceful. It was eerie and… unsettling. Like the silence didn’t belong there.

I felt the chill in my veins, coldness bringing all the nerves of my brain to a standstill. It was like a never-ending dark void that consumes everything, so I was left feeling nothing. Total emptiness. There was nothing to abate my hollow soul that creeped in the shadows, away from any other human contact because the barrenness was so consuming, I couldn’t bear to pretend that everything was okay.

Because nothing was going to be okay again.

The ghost of my sister still haunted me.

I forced Killian to hate me.

I pushed Mirai and Emily away, closing the door in their face more times than I could count. They tried to reach out for me, but they didn’t know that I was poison.

That I could burn them. That I only ruined lives. And I would destroy theirs too, because I was only capable of that.

And now, I was alone. Again.

Alone with the ghosts of these castle whispering in my ears. Alone with my own empty thoughts.

My bare feet padded against the wet grass, taking me away.

Mindless.

To be anywhere other than within the cursed walls of this castle.

To be away… from Killian’s silence.

To be free of such torment.

I belatedly realized that I was in the stables when the neigh of a horse drifted into my ears. My gaze darted around the stalls, searching for my mare.

But I was searching for naught – Ragna wasn’t here. A pang of anguish slithered through me. The back of my eyes burned, but the tears didn’t fall. They never did anymore.

Cerberus stomped his hooves, bringing my attention to him. I reached over, petting his muzzle. “Do you miss her?” I said to the black stallion. He released a loud, wet breath in response.

“Yeah, me too.” I rubbed my hand over his side. His black coat was warm and smooth under my fingertips. Comforting. “How do you think she’s doing? Do you think she misses us too?”

Cerberus, who was usually grumpy, silently stared at me. As if he understood what I was saying and he was trying to communicate with me.

So I told him a secret.

“Sometimes I feel like running away. To go somewhere so far away, to cease to exist,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “To shut down my emotions and all that guilt.”

I ran my fingers through his silk mane. “Do you want to run away?”

The moment I said those words, something shifted inside me. An intense need for… something unknown. I didn’t know exactly when it happened or why I did it, but somehow, Cerberus trotted free from his stall, his big body moving in a curious circle around me.

I reached out a hand and he bumped his forehead into my palm. “Do you ever just want to be free, Cerberus?”

He let out a soft snort in response. I climbed onto a stack of hay, so that I was more eye-level to the stallion, since he was such a tall horse. With shaky hands, I grabbed onto Cerberus and swung up onto his back. I settled against him, without a saddle. Without a rein. There was nothing between us, just me and him.

My fingers curled into his black mane, feeling his strength underneath my body and on the tip of my fingers. He tossed his head up once, trotting around in a small circle.

I clenched my thighs. “Take me away from here,” I breathed.

As if Cerberus could understand me, his body shifted under me and then we broke into a gallop. The trees whizzed by as dirt was kicked up behind us. The pounding of Cerberus’s hooves echoed through my ears, thumping with the same heavy beat as my heart.

I leaned forward and the stallion ran faster. I tipped to the left, my body unstable on Cerberus without the saddle, but I didn’t let go. I urged him to run even faster and he did.

Away from the castle…

And deeper into the woods.

The whispers in my head fell quiet. The ghosts couldn’t follow me here and my demons were forced to surrender to Cerberus’s wilderness.

My existence became one with the black stallion. His hooves thundered against the dirt and my heart raced, beating to Cerberus’s wild tempo.

There was no fear.

No guilt.

No burden.

Only the cool wind in my hair, the warmness of Cerberus, and it felt like nothing I’ve ever felt. He took me away, from my sins and the pretty illusion that was my salvation.

The thunder rolled and the sky opened up, raging. The rain pelted down on us, violent and brutal. The rain soaked through my white dress and my teeth shattered, the cold seeping through my bones. But I didn’t care.

I flattened myself on the horse’s back, clenching his sides with my thighs.

Cerberus raced faster and it was then that I realized…

Feeling numb and empty wasn’t really being empty on the inside. Humans are so used to chasing happiness and we like it, the pleasing and soft weight of it that envelops us. Happiness cocoons us within its warmth. Because it’s so familiar, we never notice the weight of it until it’s gone. When happiness is replaced with something else, it gives us the illusion that the comforting weight is gone. So now… we’re weightless. Empty.

But I was never really empty... I was just full of all the wrong things.

And I had forced myself to be numb. To not feel how wrong I felt inside.

That was until now, on the back of Cerberus as he ran free and wild…

I finally tasted freedom.

And it was pure ecstasy.