A Vow of Hate (A Vow of Hate, #1)

by Lylah James

“He didn’t even kiss me at the altar. I don’t think he’s coming to my room tonight.” I hoped not. “I think your father expects–” “… bloody sheets in the morning?”

“I was going to say that your father expects you and Killian to get along.” I took out the pins holding my hair up and in place. “Because they need an heir and my womb is on lease?”

Selene threw her hands up, letting out an aggravated sigh. “Why are you so cynical, Jules?” “Not cynical. My fantasy had long turned bitter and now, I choose to live in reality,”

“I know why my father and William have arranged this marriage. I know what Killian needs and I’m fully aware of what my job description is as Killian’s wife. They n...

The first thing I used to notice whenever I looked in the mirror were my eyes. But now, all I saw were the jagged lines across the left side of my face. The scar tissue had healed, but not before leaving the lasting effect of the burns and the glass shards that had cut through my face so cruelly. The skin felt stretched tight along the messed-up tissue – my mangled flesh, lumpy and taut, pink and daunting – ugly.

I touched my cheek, feeling the bumpy scars under my fingertips. The map of scars on the left side of my face told a story, a haunting one. My fingers brushed against the faded silvery ribbons on my forehead, my slit eyebrow and through the uneven dents and lines etched in my cheek, where once it was soft skin.

It looked like someone had taken a sharp knife to my face, cutting through my tender flesh, as if it was slicing apples. Beautiful, t...

Gracelynn would say that we got our beauty from our mother, for her looks had been praised by many. But now, the word beauty was just an ugly reminder ...

“Consummate this marriage?” I let out a humorless laugh. “You couldn’t even bear to kiss me at the altar.”

Killian made me feel small and vulnerable. But he was no merciful man.

That was my first mistake – showing him my weakness. Because Killian only did what he was best at. He fed on my rage and my vulnerability. I had a habit of hiding behind my veil, not just my face but my emotions. Except, Killian could still see me. A thin piece of fabric was not enough to hide me from his hatred. Or to protect me from his anger. And his endless humiliation and torture. The veil did nothing but remind me that I was damaged goods…and I was at Killian’s mercy.

At the altar, there had been no vows to love and to cherish me. There was no honor in our union, no love in our story… and no redemption for our mistakes.

Killian Spencer vowed to make me suffer for the rest of my days. That wasn’t a wedding. It had been a one-w...

“You have no fucking idea what you are playing with. You will regret taunting me.” “What else can I lose? I’ve lost my sister and my freedom. And now I’m stuck with a man who loathes the mere sight of me. You can’t hurt me because I’ve already reached my threshold of pain and misery. But keep trying, dear husband.”

His piercing gaze seemed to knock away my defenses, digging under my flesh, sinking into my bones and burrowing underneath the cage around my heart. Killian burned me on the spot with a single cutting glance. And my ashes laid at his feet.

“I will break you, Beasty.”

I had read Wuthering Heights more times than I could count and had probably memorized every single line, but it was still one of my favorite classics of English literature.

Like my love for ancient castles and tragic love stories, I adored anything historical and classic. Sometimes, I wondered if maybe I was born in the wrong era.

I wanted to be more than Mrs. Spencer, Killian’s bride. I wanted to be Julianna, a person not a vessel for Killian, or a walking womb on lease.

Pity was ugly to people like us, a poison without its remedy. We only wanted people to understand us.

My body had long grown accustomed to pain. I had lived with it long enough that it was now familiar; we were best friends, after all. Pain and me – we came together, bonded by my tormenting past and the sins I bore on my flesh.

Because at the end of the day, the accident was still my fault. I decided to sneak out and convinced my sister to come with me. And I was driving, while being intoxicated. There was no justification. It didn’t matter what version of the accident I tried to fill the void with, I killed my sister. This was the only reality that mattered.

Dear Husband, My thoughts are filled with you. Your hatred for me, for I have taken the one thing you did want the most. Your handsome visage, Your sturdy hands, Your wicked smile, And your soft eyes. I want to believe you were made for me and our souls are one. But how can I bethink so… When you still envisage her while you bed me. - A

And so, I got lost in a love story that wasn’t my own, yet it called me. Lured me with the promise of tragedy. Dragged me into the depths of despair. And tempted me with its beautiful sorrow.

We are lost, in the madness of love. Like the morrow frost, during the winter days. Thy love is cold, if only, Our story could hast been foretold. The pain would not hast been threefold. - A

Marchioness of Wingintam lived a life of misery. She fell in love with the man who couldn’t bear her touch. She loved a man who mourned for another woman. Arabella’s life was a lonely one and with every child she lost, she grew desperate for her husband’s affection, only to end up with his cold eyes and loveless hands. She offered him her body, day and night, because it was the only moment she felt close to her husband. Yet, his passion was reserved for his lover and never for his wife. Arabella died alone. She took her last breath under the gazebo Elias had built for his lover.

“I had a little… incident when I was ten-years-old. I was learning to ride and fell off my horse.” It wasn’t a small incident though. I ended up in a coma for nine days from a brain injury… I woke up with a seizure. And till this day…

Heartbreak made me weak. Rage gave me purpose.

“You have a contract to fulfill,” my father reminded me. “And I don’t have long to live. I want to see my grandchild before it’s my time to go.” Thanks, dad. I definitely needed that reminder.

My mother was traveling Europe with her lover and my father was dying. I married my dead girlfriend’s sister who also happened to be her killer and I detested my wife. Breathe in the rage, breathe out any other emotions.

It was time to face Julianna and the vows I took. She was the darkness plaguing my half-dead heart; the reason why I was the man I was today.

The world saw me as Killian Spencer – the man of wealth and power at his fingertips. I was the gentleman in a suit. I smiled at the camera, shook hands and I did everything they expected me to. A lawyer with an insane drive for justice. A politician with a perfect and clean record. But no one really knew of the monster lurking underneath the skin of Killian Spencer.

I’m coming, Beasty. And your life will nev...

Bishop Romano wasn’t exactly a bad father. But he was guarded and too busy. He expected perfection. And well, my flaws were too many to count and I was riddled with imperfections from my body to my heart straight down to my soul.

Gracelynn was always his favorite, even though he never said it out loud. After she died, I became his only child and no matter that my flaws were too many to count, I was still his blood and the only family he had left. His expectations of me were high, but I did everything he demanded of me. In the end, I only ever wanted his approval. And I got that by marrying Killian, even though it killed me.

Three years… It took me three years… to find what I had been searching for. The freedom I found in Ragna. The undeniable connection between my mare and me. The story between us – the look in her eyes and the way my heart squeezed.

Please. Don’t look at me so closely, for you’ll see my demons. My sins. My mistakes. My lies. My secrets.

“The mere thought of touching you brings me disgust, but I will enjoy breaking you.” His right hand came up. It brushed against my neck, almost tenderly, before he wrapped his fingers around my throat, squeezing in warning. “You will submit to me, Beasty.” The venom in his tone pierced my heart, sinking its poison into my beating organ. The pain was… blinding and pure agony.

My breath stuttered. My soul wailed. My heart wrenched from my chest, laying at his feet, and he cruelly stomped on it. Atone for your sins. I reminded myself. Beg for absolution. I closed my eyes. I deserved this. Salvation is in the hands of the one who you have wronged.

Our eyes locked. “I don’t consent,” I murmured. “You don’t have a choice,” he mused. I gritted my teeth. “You’d take me against my will?” Killian’s eyes darkened and his cruel face broke into a mocking smile. “I’m your husband. Your body is my right, Julianna.”

And I was apparently his prize. I may be his trophy wife but I was not a martyr. I had been through worse and handling Killian’s hatred should be no trouble. Or I thought so.

“It’s my duty, isn’t it?” he rasped. “To consummate this marriage? To make you a wife, to make a mother out of you? My duty is to breed you and your job is to give me an heir, Julianna Spencer.”

“What century are you from?” I growled. “Definitely not this era. Rape is rape, whether you're my husband or not, you need my consent and I don’t give it to you.” He chuckled heartlessly. “You’ll refuse me?” He grasped my left hand, his thumb stroking my wedding ring. He dragged the ring forward, over one knuckle, to reveal the imprint that the ring left. “You’ll refuse me while wearing my ring? My name is etched on your skin, Beasty.”

Killian’s name was engraved inside my wedding band, similar to how my name was engraved inside his. But he never wore his ring. The wedding band had left an imprint of his name on my ring finger.

Goddamn it. He was a bastard. A heartless bastard.

“The man I knew would never force himself on a woman.” “You don’t know me. You know nothing, Beasty.”

“You’re right. I’m not the Killian your sister fell in love with. You killed him that night; the same night you killed your sister. Bravo, Julianna. You single-handedly ruined two lives in one night. “Three,” I breathed, the crack in my chest growing larger. That made him pause. “What?” I swallowed, my eyes burning. This fight had taken all my energy and now… Killian had left me feeling vulnerable. “Three lives. I ruined myself that night,” I said, my voice breaking. “You seem to forget that every time. You. Are. Not. The. Only. One. Who. Is. Suffering. I miss her too. I loved her too. And yes, I hate myself too. More than you can ever hate me. So no, your anger and your hatred does nothing to me.”

“If you want pity–” “I’m not asking for pity!” My voice echoed through the walls and his eyes widened. “Watch your tone with me, Julianna.” “Or what?” I challenged, blinking the tears away. “You will regret it,” he warned. I gave him a bitter smile. “You still don’t understand, do you? What else can you do to hurt me when I’m hurting myself every day, every time I breathe.” “I can do much worse.”

“How about we make this easy for ourselves? Just bend the fuck over and submit to me, Beasty. I’m sure you know what it’s like to be on your back and on your knees. You can’t be a virgin,” he paused. “Once the job is done, you’ll be paid bountifully every year. A payment for your services, as per the contract.”

“I’m not a common whore, Killian.” He scoffed. “My apologies. I thought that was your job description. Truly.” “That’s petty, even for you.”