A Vow Of Hate by Lylah James

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

 

Julianna

 

 

One month later

His lips whispered over the back of my neck, his hands stroking down my arms before he cupped my small bump. At eleven weeks pregnant, my stomach was slightly protruding now, visible proof that there was, indeed, an innocent life growing inside of me.

My eyes caught his black wedding band and my chest filled with warmth at the sight of it. A week ago, Killian and I married again. It was a very small ceremony with only Emily, Stephen, William, Mirai, Selene and my father present.

This time, instead of vows of hate … Killian spoke about his love for me. He vowed to love me, to protect me and to cherish me for the rest of our days.

He didn’t leave me at the altar, of course. He lifted my veil and placed the most tender kiss on my lips. If I had to choose the best days of my life…

I had two of them.

The day I met Killian.

And the day I married him. Well, the second time I married him.

If Gracelynn was looking down at me right now, I wondered if she would be proud of me. That in the end, I chose love and happiness. I chose to live.

I knew it was what she would have wanted for me.

“I’m healed enough that I can bathe on my own now,” I said, fighting back a smile.

Killian hummed in response. “Is there a problem with me regularly bathing you, wife?”

“Not at all. I was just saying…”

His teeth grazed the sensitive spot behind my ear. “I like taking care of you.”

Taking care of me was an understatement. After I got discharged from the hospital, we came back to the island. The security had been tripled and was strict. No one was allowed on Isle Rosa-Maria without Killian’s written permission.

My husband had barely left my side for the last four weeks. If I winced, he was calling for Rani, our general physician, who was at our disposal on the island. If I made as much of a pained sound, he was on me, asking dozens of questions.

Where are you hurt? Is it the baby? Does your wound hurt? Should I call for Rani? Do you need the bathroom? Is it another headache? Are you feeling nauseous?

I haven’t had a seizure since we came back to the island, thankfully. The last one I had was while I was still unconscious, in the hospital. Killian had told me it was my worst one yet. I scratched my face, bit my tongue so hard it bled and somehow managed to re-open my stitches.

Killian helped me out of the tub and before I could reach for my towel, he was already grabbing it himself and patting down my wet skin.

I sighed. “Stop treating me like I’m so fragile, Killian.”

He wrapped the towel around me before his arms curled around my hips. “You’re not fragile, but you’re my wife – the woman I love and I almost lost you a month ago. Please, humor me. Let me do this,” he rasped.

His dark gaze pleaded with me. I knew how badly he was affected by this whole ordeal, probably more than me. While I found it easy to move on after we came back to the island, it was Killian who was plagued with nightmares – of me bleeding and him not being able to reach me on time.

He would thrash and scream out my name. Every time Killian woke up from one of those nightmares, he would cling to me, burying his face into my throat as he gasped for air.

He was so fiercely protective of me and the baby, it was almost like he was obsessed about our safety.

I went on my tippy toes and my hands landed on his chest. My lips feathered over his. “Kiss me, husband.”

I didn’t have to ask him twice. His lips moved underneath mine before he took over the kiss, his tongue plunging into my mouth. Our tongues met in an erotic dance and I moaned into his mouth.

I felt his groan vibrating through his chest under my palm. It was so sexy and I melted in his arms. My core tightened and I felt needy for my husband.

“I don’t want to wait anymore,” I whimpered, my nails digging into his chest.

He hissed, before biting down on my lower lip. It stung but that only made me more damp between my legs. “You’re not fully heal yet,” he growled.

“Goddamn it, Killian! I am fine. I just need you. Please.”

As if my begging had snapped something in him, Killian bent low and then swung me up in his arms. He stalked over to the bed and placed me gently onto the mattress. I quickly discarded my towel, as to not give my husband a chance to change his mind.

Killian’s eyes flared with unadulterated lust before he lowered himself between my thighs. “Hurry,” I pleaded.

“So impatient, Princess,” he said, his voice gravelly. With exquisite gentleness, he slowly thrust inside me.

My inner walls stretched around every delicious thick inch of him. My back arched off the bed, a moan spilling past my lips. Killian pulled out before shoving inside again, with the same maddening slow pace.

He pushed my legs up, bending my knees so that I was fully open to him. I throbbed between my legs, pulsing with need. His pelvis brushed against my clit and I bit my lip, holding back a choked cry.

My hands slid to his back, my nails digging into his skin. This seemed to spur him on, because his pace picked up. Hard and fast. Thrust. His lips brushed over my scarred cheek. Thrust. “I love you,” he rasped. Thrust. “You complete me,” he said.

My hips rose up to meet each of his thrusts with my own. “Killian,” I whimpered.

My body tightened, and I was deliciously close. Killian’s muscles corded and his face hardened. “Fuck,” he swore. “I need you with me. Tell me you’re close.”

I moaned in response. Killian shoved inside me one last time, holding himself there, buried to the hilt. He shuddered and I felt his release pouring inside me.

My lips parted with a cry as my climax slammed through my body. “Killian!”

Spent, he laid his forehead against mine. Our chests heaved as we tried to catch our breaths. When Killian tried to roll off my body, I tightened my thighs around him and my arms locked behind his neck. “Stay,” I breathed.

I liked how he felt on top of me, inside me. I missed him, this intimacy, in the past month. Sex had always been explosive for us, but today felt different. The tenderness in his eyes, and his gentle touches. The way he took me slow and deep, almost like he wanted to savor this moment.

He brushed his lips over my scars, almost adoringly. My breath hitched as he kissed the jagged ugly scars and mangled flesh.

“I love you too,” I whispered. “More than I can describe in words.”

Killian gifted me his signature smirk and my body tingled, needing him again.

My core tightened around him, still pulsing, and his cock jerked inside me.

“Again?” he asked.

“Again,” I breathed.

Hours later, I laid in his arms, sated and feeling more at peace than ever. “What do you want for dinner?” Killian asked, running his fingers through my hair.

“I’m craving guavas,” I mumbled, scrolling through my phone.

“You can’t have guavas for dinner, Julianna. Dessert and as a treat, yes. Not dinner.”

I rolled my eyes. “Says who.”

“Says me.”

“Bossy much.”

His hand tightened around my hips. “You like me bossy.”

Oh yeah, I definitely did.

I didn’t usually check the news, but since Bishop was still missing, I made it a habit of checking the news and my social media a few times a day. To see if there were any updates about Bishop Romano.

My eyes widened and I sat forward when I saw the headline for the top news.

WAS IT SUICIDE? BISHOP ROMANO FOUND DEAD!

“Killian,” I gasped. I felt him move behind me, looking over my shoulder as I opened the article. My eyes quickly darted over the words.

Bishop Romano was found dead – hanging from a ceiling fan – in an apartment, which the FBI assumed was his hideout. After autopsy, they found that he had been injected with something lethal. While it was possible that he was murdered, after further investigation, his death has been filed under suicide.

I shook with relief, my breathing coming out in short gasps and my chest tightened.

The last sentence of the article glared back at me and I read over it again. Is it possible that Bishop Romano felt cornered and he knew that he was running out of time? So instead of surrendering, he decided to end his own life?

No, I refused to believe that.

Bishop Romano was cruel and vindictive. Yes, it was true that he would never surrender, but I also knew he would never take his own life, choosing the easy way out of this situation.

I dropped my phone on my lap and turned to face Killian. I watched his cool and composed expression, carefully assessing my husband. He didn’t even acknowledge the fact that our enemy was found dead. His face was impassive, not at all surprised after reading the article. Almost like he already knew…

I straddled him, my arms curling around his neck. Our foreheads touched and I breathed in his musky and spicy scent. Unique. Manly and mine.

“Are you behind this?” I didn’t beat around the bush. After all, I already had my answer. I just wanted him to confirm it.

“No,” he deadpanned, without any emotions.

Killian was a good liar, but I found the truth in his eyes.

He lied, while his hands were tainted with blood.

He killed to protect me and our baby.