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

by Lylah James

“There’s a deviant, filthy woman hiding under all that proper and respectful ruse,” Killian growled in a low voice, the sound rumbling from his wide chest. “And she’s all mine.”

For just one night, I had wanted to experience something other than the confines of the Romano’s manor. I wanted to live beyond my father’s expectations. Just one night. With my sister. Only for it to end in tragedy.

He saw me. Like he did three years ago. Killian saw the real Julianna. The one who was tormented by the ghost of her sister. The one who succumbed to the disease that was guilt. Cursed with memories that were moored inside of me – my sister’s bloodied and mangled face. A soul that howled in despair, a resentment that had burrowed itself inside my bones and sorrow that was too heavy to carry. Atonement was only an illusion that I was desperate to believe in.

“I plummeted into chaos because your love was everything beautiful and pure, but my love was everything deceitful and destructive. So, I didn’t just fall in love with you, Killian. I crawled, on my knees, bleeding for you. So, it was real. Every moment, every smile, every kiss… it was real and it hurt.”

“I crashed and burned for you,” Killian hissed. “And you left me there, bleeding. So cruelly. So mercilessly.”

“There’s a fine line between love and hate. And I just realized that I love you as much as I fucking hate you, Julianna.”

I thought giving up on Killian as part of my atonement was difficult. It killed me, to marry him, to watch him hate me while I loved him in silent. To swallow my lies like a bitter pill. To enter this marriage with deceit. My repentance had shattered my heart and turned my love story into something ugly and tragic. But ...

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

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.

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.

Why was I here? What the fuck was I even doing? Taking care of her… getting close to her again, when I should have long left the island. I should have let Rani take care of her. I should have left the night Julianna told me her truth. Yet, here I was. I had accused Julianna of being a martyr, but we were so fucking alike. I guessed we both had a penchant for self-destruction.

She neither had to wear that black veil anymore nor hide behind those vases at the dining table. No more hiding. No more lies. It was all in the open now. Her truth and her scars.

“I long for salvation,” she crooned slowly, to my utter surprise. “But I’ve realized that salvation can only be found in the arms of the person you love. Salvation is just a pretty word for peace and comfort.” I clucked my tongue at her. “You’re more clever than I thought, wife.” “Why, thank you. Such a nice compliment coming from you.”

“Maybe you should just accept the compliment, instead of throwing that sass around,” I deadpanned. She arched one perfect eyebrow at me. “You seem to quite enjoy my sass, husband.” “I would rather a docile wife, wife.” “Liar,”

“I realized three things when I was sick and you took care of me,” she said, her lips brushing over my ear. “One, I was very wrong for what I did to you. You were right that night. Everything you said to me was the harsh truth I had been refusing to acknowledge for the last three years. Two, I wasn’t chasing redemption. I was only trying to hurt myself. And three, I want to find real salvation. Fight me, Killian. And I’ll fight you back until there’s nothing left for us to fight about.”

I didn’t want a half-written story. I wanted the complete ending. With my newfound conviction, I got ready for the battle of my life. To win back my husband’s trust and love.

Trust. That was exactly what we lacked in our marriage. So I gave him the fragile piece of my heart. I trusted him, yet again.

I cried out and my inner walls spasmed as he seated himself fully inside my pussy, buried to the hilt. “You.” Thrust. “Drive. Thrust. “Me.” Thrust. “Absolutely.” Thrust. “Insane.” “Do you hate me?” I whimpered. “Yes,” he snarled. “Hate is better than nothing,” I cried out as Killian pounded inside me like a madman. His hips jerked against mine as he found a savage and painful rhythm. My eyes rolling back into my head.

The water sloshed around us as my husband fucked me against the rocks of the waterfall. My back was scratched raw and burning, but I couldn’t find myself to care. The pain became pleasure and I found solace in it. This was hate and love colliding together. Nothing about it was beautiful or romantic.

It was simply one dirty fuck to rid us of three years of sexual tension. An intense need for a quick ruttin...

“I was just all up in your cunt twenty minutes ago. You were screaming my name and practically begging me to fuck you harder and now you’re asking for a handshake?”

“Hi,” I said, my eyes darting to my out-stretched hand and back to his dark gaze. “I’m Julianna. Nice to meet you.” Killian’s brows rose up in surprise. “Did I just fuck you into insanity?” “Your assholeness has no limits.” “Your audacity has no limits,” he shot back, before reaching out. To my utter delight, he grasped my hand in his. “Killian.” “Killian,” I breathed, his name rolling on my tongue. His hand squeezed mine. “What are you doing, Julianna?” “Re-writing our story.”

Sex. Fucking. Love-making. Rutting. Sex came in all different words, but the meaning was still the same.

“How far will you go to please me, Julianna?” “Anything and everything you want,” she whispered.

It was a pretty fucking sight, her on her knees for me, and when she opened her mouth, waiting patiently for me to feed her my cock, I almost spent my seed in my pants.

I groaned, and if possible, my erection swelled bigger in her mouth. The sight of her lips stretched wide apart to take me and the wet sound of her throat swallowing against my length, was almost too much for me.

“Good girl. Now, let me fuck your pretty mouth.”

“Do you want to use your safe word?” I asked, gravelly. “No,” she confirmed, breathless. Thank the fucking Lord for that.

Julianna had no black veil to hide behind. She was bare and open for me, not a stitch of clothing covering her pale skin. Vulnerable. And so fucking beautiful; it hurt to look at her.

I had been chasing an unknown release for so long, not knowing that this was exactly what I needed. I found salvation here, on my hands and knees. In Killian’s arms.

The sound of two bodies colliding together echoed through the walls of his room. His grunts; my moans. His groans, my whimpers. Killian came with a loud grunt, buried to the hilt, before he slumped over me. Chest heaving and our sweaty bodies entangled together… I had never felt safer or more desired, than in this moment.

I found beauty in pain. Pleasure in agony. And salvation in my husband’s brutal yet exquisite touch.

His lips brushed against my temple, so tenderly, it surprised me. “You have to forgive yourself first and that’s when you will find true salvation.” I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting back the tears. “I don’t know how.”

“Guilt is toxic, Julianna,” he said. “As long as you carry that burden, you will continue to relive the past over and over again. You’ll never be able to forgive yourself then. We’re humans and we’re severely flawed. You and Gracelynn innocently sneaked out that night. Like most young adults do. So, forgive yourself because you can’t see the future. You didn’t know this accident would have happened.”

I had lost three years, tormenting myself. Atoning for a sin that wasn’t mine. Self-destructing because I thought I deserved it. Because I thought it was all my fault. But I wasn’t Gracelynn’s killer.

“Do you still hate me?” I whispered, when I started to fall asleep. I blinked hard once then twice, forcing myself to say awake so I could hear his answer. His fingers stroking down my bare arm paused. “Just like pain is subjective… hate is all grey areas, no black-and-white certainties.” His hand brushed over my breasts, cupping one heavy mound, before pinching my nipple. Hard. “I hate you but I crave you. I hate you but I need you.” As if to prove his words, he bucked his hips up, his hardness digging into the curve of my ass. “Hate is too simple a word to describe what we have, what I feel for you. It’s not hatred, Princess. It’s so much more. It’s chaos,” he rasped in my ear.

“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?”

I found both my redemption and salvation on his lips.

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.

This wasn’t a pretty fairy tale. Our love story was messy and flawed – a twisted tale. But it was perfect in the most imperfect way.