A Vow Of Hate

He watched me walk into the dining hall, his attention drifting down where the slit on my dress exposed my bare legs as I walked before his gaze came back to my face. Not before his eyes lingered a second longer on the deep v-cut of my black dress, where my breasts were pushed together by the tight bodice.

Killian brought the cigarette to his lips, taking a long inhale before blowing out a puff of smoke. “You’re late,” he said.

“Now that’s not true. I’m right on time; you’re just a tad early. Maybe it’s good practice for you. It’s gentlemanly to wait for your lady, with patience.” I took a seat on the opposite side of him, at the other end of the dining table. There was more than twelve feet in length separating us. With a flower vase strategically placed in front of me. The three chandeliers hung low from the ceiling, right over the dining table and I liked how they illuminated Killian’s face. Even from the distance, I could see the way his jaw was locked and the darkening of his gaze.

“You’re not a lady, the same as I’m not a gentleman,” he drawled, loud enough for me to hear him across the table.

“You’re right,” I agreed. “We are a perfect lie together, husband.”

Dinner was served in silence and once the two housekeepers made themselves scarce, Killian finally spoke his mind. “What do you wish to accomplish with this dinner?”

While making sure the flower vase was directly in my face, hiding me – well, most of my face – from Killian’s view, I slowly removed the pins that kept my black veil in place. I lowered the lace fabric and placed it on my lap.

“Nothing much,” I said, keeping my voice from shaking. It was the first time I had removed my veil outside of my room. But it wasn’t like I could eat while it still covered my face.

From the corner of my right eye, I saw Killian grinding his cigarette into the ashtray, before letting it fall from between his fingers. “Then, what’s the point of it?”

“You married me, Killian,” I said, grabbing for my cutlery. “Don’t you think we should at least spend a few minutes in each other’s presence without you feeling the need to go for my throat.”

He let out a humorless chuckle. “I don’t think that’s possible, Beasty.”

I ignored the jab, and the way he seemed to keep calling me Beasty. After my accident, strangers would whisper that name behind my back, giggling and sneering, until it became my label. Now, my dear husband was using it against me in the most vindictive way possible.

But that was Killian Spencer for you. Lethal words. Dangerously heartless. Cold eyes and even deadlier vengeance seeping through his veins. Every time he used that name, I was left with another crack in my heart.

He knew that and he used it to his advantage.

I gritted my teeth. “Well, that’s the point of these dinners. To make it possible.”

“You’re gluttonous for pain, wife.” His deep voice wrapped around me and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Goose flesh peppered my bare arms. “The walls that hold you prisoner is of your own doing and your destructive need to make yourself miserable. Self-loathing, Julianna. You stink of it; it bleeds through your actions and seeps through your words. The high society will eat you alive and spit out your crushed bones.”

“Is that a warning?” I breathed, my hands shaking as I gripped my knife and my fork tighter.

“No, it’s simply a threat, Beasty.”

I knew that the chains around my ankles and my enduring penitence was of my own doing – Killian was right, but I never expected him to so easily read me like an open book.

He saw through my thorned cage and tore down my walls with a single observation. Killian left me defenseless, before taking his dagger and driving it into my heart – leaving me bleeding with his careless words and heartless epiphany.

Selene had been right.

He will dig under your skin, find all your flaws and shred you to pieces until your heart is bleeding at his feet.

I licked my lips and took a deep breath. “Your father has arranged for the masquerade ball, exactly a month from now. It’s our wedding reception and this time, you can’t walk away from me. Not when we have to prove to the high society and our friend circles that we are the perfect married couple. It’s a pretty façade, of course, but whether it’s a lie or not, we have to convince them that we’re happily married.” I gestured between us with my fork. “This is practice, Killian.”

“We have to be civil with each other,” he mused, a wicked grin on his lips.

“Civil and in love,” I amended.