Hollen the Soulless: A Fantasy Romance (Dokiri Brides Book 1)

by Denali Day

  The great Salig of Bedmeg? Ticklish? Joselyn arched a brow. “Why are you telling me this?”

  Sigvard sat back on his heels and tapped a finger to his auburn hair. “We redheads have to stick together.”

  The boy was charming. Joselyn had to give him that. She returned his mischievous smile with one of her own. “Very well. But what exactly should I do with that knowledge?”

  “I’m sure you’ll think of something, little sister.” He grabbed her around the arms and hoisted her to her feet.

  Hollen and Ragnar each took hold of a paw. The slaughtered direwolf lay strewn across the ground with arrows sticking out of its rich pelt. Normally, they’d leave such creatures alone, but this one was hunting far too close to Bedmeg. Magnus and Arvid snatched the arrows away as Hollen and Ragnar hauled its body toward Jagomri. Its crimson blood streaked the snow.

  They’d found no more blood-seekers, and the corpse of the one he’d killed yesterday betrayed no hint of its madness. Glanshi.

  The morning sun was shrouded behind a blanket of gray clouds, making Hollen long for the comfort of home even more after spending all night in a cliffside camp. He wasn’t the only one feeling it.

  “I’m just so tired.” Arvid said as he wiped at his eyes.

  “Oh, I’m just so tired!” Magnus mocked, his voice a high-pitched whine. The other men laughed.

  Arvid scoffed. “You don’t get it! It’s every night. I told her I have patrol in the morning and she said, ‘Well that’s fine. We can just have dinner and skip the lovemaking. And I told her, ‘Whoa, whoa, whoa! That’s not what I meant! I just thought maybe we could skip the gossip and go back to our bok a little early.’ ”

  “You idiot!” Magnus smacked the back of Arvid’s head.

  They laughed some more as Arvid rubbed at his wild curls.

  Hollen smirked. “What did you think was going to happen?”

  “I don’t know,” Arvid muttered at the ground.

  Ragnar shook his head. “Don’t you understand? You answer to her in these matters. When she’s done, you can be done. In the meantime, grit your teeth, you fool!”

  Hollen snickered along with the others, ignoring the pang of jealousy hardening in his chest. Oh, to have Arvid’s kind of problems. Hollen’s own bride could barely tolerate his nearness, much less his touch. The day before, he’d been about to kiss her. For a moment he’d even thought she wanted him to. But then, like always, she’d tensed up. Ever afraid of him.

  They tossed the wolf’s body onto Jagomri’s back. Hollen chucked its paw away and yanked out the rope. Together, the four men worked to lash its body to the saddle.

  What was it going to take for him to convince his bride to trust him? Did all brides take so long to warm? He jerked on the rope a little harder than was necessary. He’d jump off a cliff before trading stories of the marriage bok with his riders. He had to do something. But what?

  Perhaps he’d been too accommodating? His fear of scaring her, of rejection had kept him from pushing Joselyn. Maybe that was what she really needed. Maybe that was what she really wanted. Could he deal with the fallout if he was wrong?

  Hollen thought of what might happen if he was right. His blood heated. Yes. He could take that chance. He would take that chance.

  Tonight. Helig help him.

  The evening dancing lacked the same grandeur as the night of Joselyn’s welcome feast, but his clan’s passion burned just as hot. His bride was sitting upon a stone bench, sipping at her malted wine. Hopefully she’d had more than one. The lilting melody of the stringed kilds mingled with the bounding pulse of the drums as couples took to the ring to begin dancing.

  Hollen sucked the last of the storen stew from his fingers. He stared across the fire at his bride. Her skin glowed and the torchlight illuminated her beauty. Her red braid hung over her shoulder and he followed its path along the feminine curves of her body. Her eyes were fixed on the dancers. If Hollen wasn’t mistaken, there was more than a hint of interest there. She was curious, wistful even. Hollen licked his lips. He was hungry again, but not for storen. He started around the fire.

  “Joselyn?”

  She looked up, a brow raised. “Yes?”

  There was a sultry cadence to her voice. Even her expression was soft, bereft of that tinge of hostility she usually held for him. That ever-present contempt. She tilted her head back just a little too far, exposing the creamy flesh of her throat. He swallowed.

  Just do it, Hollen.

  “It’s getting late. I should take you to our bed. Unless . . .”

  She stared at him without blinking. Did she know what he wanted to ask her? If she did, she could simply cut him off. Or, she could stand, take his hand in hers, and draw him towards dancing. She could make this easier for him.

  In my dreams.

  Women were never simple. Or easy. Especially not his. He took a breath.

  “Would you prefer to dance first?"

  Hollen held his breath and waited out the ensuing silence. She just stared at him. She didn’t even blink. What was she thinking? Finally, her lips cracked open.

  “I’m tired.” The smooth timbre was gone from her voice.

  The urge to curl in on himself and die was tempting. But he wouldn’t be so easily dissuaded. Not tonight. He had plans and, by the gods, he was going to make some progress with his bride.

  “Come then, let’s go to our bok.” Hollen held out a hand. He forced a smile that she didn’t return. Was that regret etched into her face? Why? Together they walked the path to their bok. Hollen made short work starting the fire as Joselyn undid her hair.

  They’d established a new routine at night. Hollen would strip down, climb into bed, and shut his eyes. At which time, Joselyn would change into her nightgown and slip into bed behind him. Tonight, however, he needed her in bed before him.

  “I’ll be back in a minute. I need to tell Erik something.”

  His bride nodded at him and Hollen spent a few moments shuffling around outside their bok like an idiot. He prayed that she’d be dressed down by the time he returned. Helig must have heard his prayer. Her face was pressed into the pillow toward the center of the pallet. Were he to lay down, she’d be facing him. That in and of itself was new. It was probably the wine. Again, he hoped she’d had plenty. Hollen stripped off all but his pants.

  He went around to her side and sat on the edge, sinking into the furs. His bride’s blue eyes popped open. She sat up with a start.

  “What are you doing?” Her fear sparked, and Hollen resolved not to take it personally. Still, some of his nerve wilted under that look.

  Commit, Hollen.

  “How’s your leg?”

  She blinked. “I-It’s fine.”

  He pulled back the covers. “I’m going to look at it.”

  She snapped for the blankets. “No!”

  Hollen held firm to the furs. “Yes.”

  He uncurled her hands and pulled the blankets from them. Joselyn drew her knees into her chest and wrapped her arms around them. He’d try not to take that personally either. He took a breath, propping his weight up with one hand.

  “Joselyn, I’m not going to rape you. Don’t you think I would’ve done it by now?”

  Her lips thinned and she said nothing. Her grip around her legs didn’t ease. Hollen waited, sensing there was something she wanted to say. Now was the time for patience.

  “Men don’t touch me the way you touch me. None ever have.”

  Possessive satisfaction swelled in his chest. “Good.”

  Joselyn bit into the swell of her lower lip. Did she know how alluring she looked when she did that? “I know what you want, Hollen. And I can’t give it to you.”

  Hollen reached for her right foot. She flinched when he touched her, but he held on, his hands swallowing up the cold little thing. “Really? Because all I want right now is to check your leg.”

  An innocent lie. What mattered were his intentions. And tonight his intention was merely to gain a meas
ure of his bride’s trust. To prove he wasn’t the instinct-driven beast she apparently thought him. He began rubbing his thumbs along the sole of her foot. He could feel the tension in her body even here. He lowered his voice, infusing it with soothing tones. “Let me touch you, Joselyn.”

  Her hesitation was palpable. He continued his massaging, taking his time over each corded muscle. All the while her eyes remained fixed on him, as though she were waiting for him to pounce. He knew the gneri blade still lay under her pillow. She’d probably have her hand on it if she weren’t so busy clutching her knees to herself. Hollen lightened his touch beneath her toes, “accidentally” tickling her. She jumped.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, pretending not to know what he’d done. He did it again. She started again. The corners of her mouth twitched.

  “Is something wrong, mu hamma?” He continued tickling her.

  She released her knees to kick him with her other foot. “Stop that!”

  He caught her leg before she could strike him and tickled that one as well. “Stop what?”

  She smiled, even as her voice buzzed with warning. “Hollen, I mean it!”

  “I’m still waiting for you to tell me what’s bothering you.” With both her feet in his hands, he tickled her harder.

  “You’re tickling me!” She kicked, trying to get free.

  “Oh! I’m sorry. You should have said something.” He stopped, but didn’t release her.

  She laughed and Hollen’s heart skipped a beat. He ached for that sound. He seized the moment. He stood long enough to scoop her up and lay her flat on the bed. All amusement vanished and she came up on her elbows before he’d even let her go. He put a hand on her shoulder.

  “Lay down. I’m going to look at your wound.” She ignored him and struggled to come up from the bed. Hollen bit the inside of his cheek. Time to man up.

  “Joselyn.” His voice dropped low in the same tone he used when informing his riders they’d be staying out on patrol an additional day. “Be still.”

  She obeyed. Barely.

  He pressed down on her shoulder, forcing her to rest on the bed. Her eyes blazed a hole in his flesh as he scooted down the pallet to take her right foot up in his hands. He resumed his massage, this time taking care not to tickle her. She squeezed her legs together, and her hands crossed over each other at her waist, clutching her wrists. This seemed all too familiar. He sighed. At least she wasn’t fighting him. More importantly, he had no intention of hurting her this time. Thank Helig.

  He waited until her foot had fully warmed to the heat of his skin before moving up to her ankle. If not for the gap between them, he might not have been able to fit his hands between her clenched legs.

  “Relax, Joselyn,” he murmured, circling the joint. She did. A bit. His bride was so small. Her ankle was narrower than his wrist, by a great deal. Her skin was pale and smooth. He stared at the thousands of freckles dotting her leg. Like stars in the night sky. He could spend days kissing each one. He would.

  One step at a time.

  He worked his way up, helping her open her legs enough to work on the muscles of her calf. As her legs parted, he could feel the slight tremor in her limbs. He stroked the back of her heel. “Shh. It’s all right. No one’s going to hurt you. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  If she felt patronized by his words, he couldn’t tell. She took a shaky breath and her grip on her wrists eased, her elbows sinking deeper into the furs at her sides.

  “That’s it, mu hamma. Just rest.” He took his time, brushing with the pads of his fingers in long, sweeping strokes. With each pass he pressed ever upward until he was at her knee. When he caressed the back, she twitched. It didn’t seem like fear. Hollen’s gaze flicked up. She was staring at the ceiling. He petted at the soft flesh again. She sighed and her eyelids slid shut.

  That seemed like a good sign. Encouraged, Hollen let his own body relax. He’d been as tense as she. More so. Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do about the growing stiffness in his groin. He’d have to deal with it. Just as he had every night since bringing his bride to his bed.

  When he moved up her thigh, her eyes fluttered open again. Without pausing, Hollen slid the hem of her gown up and started undoing the bandage. In his periphery, Joselyn’s fingers fidgeted over her hips. He knew he was pressing the limits of her faith, but she wasn’t stopping him. This was good. All things considered, the night could have gone very differently.

  “Stay here,” he said, rising from the bed to get a clean bandage. He returned and patted at the wound to test it for pooled fluid. “It’s healing well.”

  He hooked a hand under her knee and pulled it up so he could slip the new bandage beneath. That tension had returned to her limbs, but she didn’t resist. With extreme gentleness, Hollen rewrapped her leg and tugged the gown back down over her thigh. In one fluid motion, he moved to the other thigh.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, breathless.

  He resumed his massage, working his thumbs into the soft flesh. “Putting you to sleep.”

  “I won’t sleep like this.”

  “Let’s see.”

  “Hollen, I won’t. I can’t.”

  He moved down to her knee, showing her he’d already gone as far as he’d intended. “It will help if you stop arguing and close your eyes.”

  She bit her lip again but said nothing. Blue eyes remained open.

  “Does any of this hurt?”

  She shook her head.

  “Tell me if it does.”

  He took his time, working all the way back down to her toes. Sure enough, her eyes slid shut again, her breath evening out. But she wasn’t asleep. Perfect.

  She smelled of spring water and moss. Earthen. When she’d first arrived, Joselyn had the aroma of flowers too sweet to have come from anywhere but the lowlands. The change was subtle, but unmistakable. Bedmeg suited her.

  He reached up and took one of her hands. Her eyes fluttered open and she started to draw away. He firmed his grip. Perhaps it was time to back off. He’d gotten what he’d set out for. It was a square victory. And yet, he wanted more.

  He’d broken down barriers, gotten a taste of her surrender, of her trust. Time to find out how far that trust extended.

  How much more mountain is there to scale?

  Joselyn’s heart thundered in her chest. Her blood had finally cooled, her nerves calmed, her lust abated. And now? Just as she’d been about to drift off to sleep, he was starting in on her hands. He was sitting closer now, so close she could smell the leather and sulfur on his skin.

  He’d washed away the grime from earlier, the dirt and blood he’d been covered in from his veligiri hunt. He’d marched into the common area with his men, all height and power, looking like he owned the very mountain he stood on. His tooth-covered axe swung from the loop at his hip with each powerful stride. In that moment, Joselyn could almost see herself running into his arms, letting him scoop her up the way his men snatched their tittering brides for sensual ‘welcome home’ kisses. A flicker of passion ignited then, and she’d not been able to extinguish it all day.

  It had grown hotter as she watched the couples dancing that night. She’d allowed her mind to wander, imagining what it would be like to press her feminine curves into Hollen’s hard planes. Now they were in his bed, and he was stoking that flame into a roaring bonfire. How had she responded? She’d lain down in the pyre and prayed she didn’t scorch.

  Worse. I’ve melted.

  Even now her body hummed with pleasure. She had to stop him. This had gone far enough. Who knew what might happen if he kept going. She peeled her tongue from the roof of her mouth.

  “Hollen, I—”

  “—Joselyn, I swear to Regna that I won’t violate you. Do you believe me?”

  Skies, he still thought she was afraid of him? Thank the gods he didn’t know the truth.

  Another hour of this, savage, and I might be the one violating you.

  “I believe you.” />
  He exhaled, his lips stretching in a hopeful smile. Such a beautiful smile. “Then let me do this. You can’t imagine how much it pleases me.”

  She had an idea. A thrill of excitement skipped through her. Shame followed it. What was she doing? She had to put a stop to this. She wasn’t playing with fire; she was dancing in the flames. She swallowed, mustering her resolve.

  “I don’t understand what you expect from me.”

  He held her hand in one of his and drew the rounded tips of his nails up that same arm. He left a trail of gooseflesh in his wake, and she stifled a shiver. “I know I terrified you when we met. I know you still fear me because of it.” He pressed a thumb along the inside of her elbow, drawing tiny circles. Why did that feel so good? He continued his speech.

  “I want to see that it’s not too late. That there’s still hope.”

  Hope? He had more hope than she did willpower. She said nothing as he finished with one shoulder and trailed over to the other. Curiosity flared within her. There were so many things she hadn’t asked him. Did he regret having claimed her? Why was he called ‘The Soulless’? Why hadn’t he claimed her body? Rather than ask, she watched him, trying to puzzle out the answers on her own. All the while, her breaths grew shallower.

  When he was done, he traced a line up her arm all the way to her throat. With feather lightness, he caressed the sides of her neck.

  Don’t moan!

  He brushed his fingers up and around her ears, back down to the corner of her mouth. She gasped as he drew across her bottom lip and down into the dimple in her chin.

  “Nothing bad’s going to happen, mu hamma. Least of all here. In our bed.”

  Gods, his voice! The depth of it made her want to lean into him, to press her ear against his mouth just to feel the vibration.

  “This place, our bed, is sacred. You will never suffer here. I swear it to you.”

  This was unfair. She was just a woman. Her lips parted on a breath and her eyelids slid downward. Just as she was about to lift her face to his, he drew back.