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

by Denali Day

  Hollen scooped her up and lifted her over his shoulder. Her limp body hung loose around him and the world seemed to tilt. Butchered men lie sprawled about the campsite. Blood and flesh were everywhere. She groaned as Hollen’s shoulder pressed into her belly.

  As they raced away, Joselyn’s vision went choppy. A flash of movement in the trees beyond caught her attention. It was the boy in his scarlet hat. He was sprinting in the other direction. Down the mountain.

  Joselyn tried to cry out to him, but her throat was too sore. She wanted to warn the boy to keep running. She also wanted him to die alongside his companions. Confusion nauseated her. Her eyes slid back into her head. Exhaustion sank in its fangs and tore her out of all consciousness.

  She was alive. She was still alive. For now.

  Hollen shivered against the biting cold of the gray, cloud-crowded sky. Jagomri howled and beat his wings. Joselyn didn’t even twitch. Hollen had stripped himself of his cloak and buried Joselyn under it. For a while her teeth had clattered so loudly he feared they might crack. Now she didn't move at all. He gave her a hard shake, relieved when she stirred.

  “You stay awake!” he commanded. The whistle of air blowing past them deafened his voice.

  How could he have let this happen? When he’d found the broken ice she’d fallen through, terror had struck him. He’d run across the clearing, divesting himself of clothes before seeing that her tracks led away from the fissure. He’d heard her before he saw her. The sound of her cries had led him through the woods, faster than he’d ever run before. And there, pinned to the ground, was his bride.

  Hollen had hundreds of scars. Hundreds of kills. This morning had been different. He hadn't simply killed the men who’d forced their filthy hands on his bride. He’d murdered them. Given the chance, he’d do it again with joy in his heart.

  He’d have given chase to the boy who’d fled, but it wasn't worth it. Joselyn’s flesh was freezing. He knew that sting, knew what it meant. It was death. He had to get her back to Bedmeg. Fast. It may already be too late. He shook her again.

  No response.

  Would his last words to her be those he’d spoken in anger? Hollen pressed against Jagomri’s ridges, urging him on. The beast responded with a resentful shriek. Don't let her die, you bastard! Fly!

  The minutes stretched into what seemed like hours. Finally, Bedmeg came into sight. Hollen drove as close to the mouth of the common area as possible. He couldn’t afford to lose any more time.

  His riders lined the entrance; they’d been on watch for his return. Gratitude filled him at the sight. Erik would have told them what happened. They knew where their Salig had gone and, due to their laws, were unable to offer their assistance. This was Hollen’s mess to sort out. Instead they’d stood vigilant, an unspoken demonstration of their loyalty. It was more than he deserved.

  The moment Jagomri’s feet touched the snow, Hollen leapt from his back. He’d not bothered to bind his legs. Hollen tugged on the mound of furs lying atop his mount. Joselyn slid into his arms like a limp pile of rags.

  A path parted for him as he sprinted into the common area and charged toward the tunnels. Eyes turned down as he passed. Eerie silence echoed off the stone walls of the crowded common area. That silence had the ring of doom to it. Hollen squeezed Joselyn in his arms.

  He plunged into the dark tunnel and made his way through. As Hollen rounded the final corner, light hit his eyes. A pair of torches were already notched within the little alcove he’d set his sights on.

  Hollen darted to the entrance and locked upon the pair within, who eyed him with open shock. The other Dokiri man threw himself upon his hamma, anxious to preserve her modesty.

  “Out!” Hollen bellowed, dropping to his knees.

  The couple scrambled out of the water as Hollen yanked his cloak from Joselyn’s slackened face. He pressed his fingers to the bruised flesh of her throat. He begged Helig for signs of a pulse. Hollen held his body rigid, waiting. A sluggish rippling thrummed beneath his hand, indicating life. It was too slow. Hollen tore at the ties of his cuirass as the two interlopers retreated toward the common area.

  He dropped the leather armor to the ground and ripped his shirt over his head. Hollen’s hands shook with adrenaline as he removed her pants and what remained of her tattered shirt. Under any other circumstance, he would have filled his eyes with the sight of his naked bride, satisfying his long-suffering curiosity. Passion was the furthest thing from his mind as he scooped Joselyn’s unconscious form into his arms and slid into the water.

  Hollen’s heart jumped as they dipped below the icy surface of the pool. This alcove was the last stop couples made before concluding their visits. They would hop into successively heated pools until they reached the threshold of their tolerance. Then, while their flesh glowed red with warmth, they would plunge into the waters of this alcove which was fed by melted ice from above. The chill was invigorating and closed one’s pores before redressing for the common area. In Joselyn’s case, the frigid water would keep her brittle flesh from scorching as he warmed her.

  Settling low in the water, Hollen found a natural seat against the edge of the pool and pulled Joselyn into his lap. He grabbed her forehead and pulled her backward to rest against his shoulder, submerging as much of her skin as he could without drowning her. He pressed his lips against her frozen ear and spoke to her in his father’s language.

  “You must wake, my bride, my only. You must!”

  He wrapped an arm over her waist and pulled her against him, willing the gentle heat of his skin to seep into her. She was cooler than the water surrounding them. He’d give her all the heat he possessed to keep her from tumbling over the edge of death.

  Hollen swallowed his fear and ran his hand down the length of Joselyn’s arm, drew her hand up over the surface of the water. Her fingers were ashen gray, the tips so blue they looked black in the dim torch light. Hollen shuddered and pulled her hand back under the surface. He began kneading her palms between his fingers. All the while he spoke to her, pleaded with her, begged her.

  The minutes dragged by until the temperature of Joselyn’s flesh matched the water. Hollen heaved her into his arms and climbed up the bank of the pool. She was all white limbs lying ragged in the cradle of his bosom, with her head splayed backward over the crook of his elbow. Water poured off him, nearly dragging his pants from his body as he hurried to the next warmest pool. He considered removing the rest of his clothes, but then thought of his bride’s inevitable horror were she to wake with her naked body pressed up against his. She would wake up. That thought reminded him to keep his eyes ahead as he descended into the pool, still clad in his pants and boots.

  The water of this pool sent a melting surge of comfort over his own chilled flesh. He prayed the shift wouldn’t harm his bride. As he settled her against him, Hollen started at the moan rising from Joselyn’s parted lips. He swung her around to look at her face as he cradled her. Her freckle-dotted eyelids fluttered, but didn’t open.

  “Joselyn. Joselyn. Please wake up, mu hamma,” he whispered in trade tongue, stroking his free hand over her brow. His vision went wavy with tears.

  He’d done this to her. If she died, it would be his fault. And his punishment would be too high a price to bear.

  “You have to live, mu hamma. Live and I will tell you everything. Live so that you can punish me. Live so that I may love you. Please, stay with me.” His voice cracked. It was the first time he’d wept in years.

  22

  Twice Wronged

  Flayed. She’d been flayed. Her skin had been cut into and peeled away from her body, exposing every nerve to the bite of icy teeth. Joselyn groaned into the darkness, her parched throat closed up.

  “Tansy?” Her cracked lips split as she spoke.

  “Shh, mu hamma,” came a hushed, male voice, so close Joselyn wondered if it had come from within her own head.

  She struggled to open her eyes. It was like they were sealed together, but eventually th
ey cracked open. The glow of torchlight blinded her, and she squeezed them shut again, turning her head to the side. Her nose pressed into something prickly that grated on her skin. Where was she? A weight drifted over her belly, and instinct crashed down on her. She was being attacked.

  She went rigid. Her arms strained against whatever confined her. Warm water splashed over her face.

  “Shh, easy! Easy!” That male voice came again, startling Joselyn enough to make her think.

  The band across her waist, it was an arm. It tugged against her belly, drawing her above the sloshing water. “It’s all right. You’re safe.”

  She knew that voice. Joselyn stilled. “Hollen?”

  “I’m here, mu hamma.”

  “What happened?”

  “You’re safe.”

  She opened her eyes. There he was. Her captor. Her savior. Warm water kissed her skin and tickled her shoulders as he lowered them back down into the steaming pool. “Where—?”

  “We’re in Bedmeg. You’re safe.” His bearded face was mere inches from hers. His hand brushed wet strands of hair off her brow. Her raspy voice cracked.

  “There were men.” Why was that significant?

  Hollen’s body tensed around her and an ominous echo of violence resounded in her mind. Something had happened. Something horrible. His eyes blackened. “They’re dead. They’ll never touch you again.”

  They’d touched her? Joselyn stared up at Hollen as her groggy mind tied her fragmented memories back into place. It was difficult. Her skull was throbbing.

  She’d left Bedmeg, had gotten away. Then she’d fallen through ice and nearly drowned. Everything after that was hazy at best. The cold had been overwhelming. Deadly. She remembered that much. At some point she’d come across men, people she thought would help her. Why had she thought they would help her? Joselyn tried to swallow, but her tongue clogged up her mouth.

  As if he read her mind, Hollen dragged a water skin into the pool and held it to her mouth. She let him pour the liquid over her lips. She sputtered as it sank its way down her aching throat. Hollen pressed her head forward, helping her drink.

  Joselyn broke away panting. He put the skin down and raked his fingers through her scalp to massage the place behind her ear.

  “That hurts,” she whispered. She hurt everywhere, especially her limbs and face. Joselyn flexed her fingers and winced at the fiery burn. Hollen stilled.

  “You’ve been snow burned. Badly.” His mouth firmed into a line. “But I don’t think you’ll lose any flesh.”

  Lose any flesh? What did that mean? She looked at her arm, which was floating just beneath the surface of the water. Her skin had a blanched tint to it that grew duller closer to her hands. Her gaze skipped back to her body. She was naked except for a white sheet of wool toweling her form.

  Joselyn jerked upward. The burst of energy scooted her off Hollen’s knees. “Don’t touch me!”

  She lost contact with the pool’s floor, and dipped below the surface. Hollen caught her by the arm and yanked her forward, drawing her to the rocky edge. It was shallower here. Joselyn clung to the wet rock. Her strength dissipated as she glared at her captor. He stared back at her with every muscle in his body tensed as though he were ready to catch her again.

  Clarity dawned. The hunter had torn her clothes open while she screamed beneath him. Joselyn shut her eyes as the tormenting images came back in full force. Those Morhageese men hadn’t helped her. They hadn’t even given her a moment by their fire. Their only concern had been using her before she froze to death. Her cries for mercy had fallen on deaf ears. They’d laughed at her, enjoyed her misery. They’d violated her with their words, their eyes, their hands.

  “Where are my clothes?” Fatigue dampened the betrayal in her voice.

  “They’re ruined. I couldn’t dress you in the water.” His soft voice didn’t match his troubled expression.

  “You let them attack me.” The accusation took her by surprise. It wasn’t exactly what she meant. Still, rage tossed within her. Someone was responsible for what had happened. Someone was at fault.

  Hollen’s mouth fell open. Could he have looked more distraught? His voice was barely a whisper. “You left.”

  “Because you gave me no other choice,” she bit out. “This wouldn’t have happened if you had just left me alone!”

  “You’re right.”

  Hollen’s expression made her gut clench. He looked as though he’d lay his head upon the executioner’s block if one had been lying nearby. If she’d meant to hurt him with her words, she’d succeeded. Her fury dimmed. Instinct bid her reach out, to stroke his face until those deep lines melted away. Joselyn tightened her grip on the rocky bank.

  What must she look like to him? Bruised, wet, naked, and clinging to hard stone like a child afraid to drown. He’d seen her being attacked. Heard her screaming for help. Crying. Begging. Hollen had seen how very small she truly was. Worst of all, he knew the dirty truth.

  Your own father wouldn’t give a damn.

  Shame made her want to vomit. Joselyn groaned, welcoming the fog still clouding her mind. She pressed her cheek against the darkened rocks and tried to succumb.

  “I won’t ask you to forgive me, mu hamma. I don’t deserve it. I drove you out of Bedmeg. First I brought you here, and then I drove you away.”

  Exactly.

  Wait. Joselyn’s eyes narrowed. Was he apologizing for abducting her? She could hardly believe it. Not after all he’d said and done.

  Hollen’s gaze fell into the water between them. “I should have told you the day we met. I should have explained everything to you.”

  What was he talking about? She leaned away from him, bracing against whatever was about to happen.

  “I’ve wronged you, Joselyn. I see that now. I can only beg you to believe I never meant any harm to come to you. If I’d known what would happen, I would have told you everything from the start.”

  Joselyn clung to the edge of the pool, certain that if she breathed she would float away. “What would you have told me?”

  “ . . .That I have no right to keep you here.”

  The confession twisted out of Hollen like a wild hare yanked from its den. He held his breath and waited for his bride’s condemnation, for her rejection. She stared. Blinked. She hadn’t grasped his words.

  Of course she doesn’t understand. You’ve explained nothing. Tell her. Tell her how you kept the truth from her and how it nearly got her killed.

  Dread set so heavy in his stomach he wanted to sink below the water with it. Anything to excuse himself from the explanation he owed his bride.

  “I told you once that Na Dokiri means ‘He who conquers.’ Do you remember?”

  Her face pressed against the edge of the pool, but her hold was lagging. Hollen had to squeeze the rocks beneath him to keep from drawing her back into his lap. His bride was exhausted, barely conscious. He might have waited until she was more alert to have this conversation, but he couldn’t stomach one more moment of secrecy between them. If that meant he had to tell her more than once, so be it.

  “My people take nothing. We earn what is ours. We win it. Our mounts, our kills, our brides.”

  “You took me,” she interjected, her gaze tight.

  Hollen nodded. “When a Dokiri claims a hamma, he may choose anyone he wishes. She is his by right. But—”

  How to explain this? She was going to be furious. This should have been the first thing he told her. Even before carving his tanshi mark into her flesh.

  “But, she must choose him as well.”

  Joselyn eyed him warily. “What do you mean by that?”

  “When I carved my mark upon you, I declared to the gods that you were the only woman for me, that I would win you or die without legacy. But there’s more to it than that.”

  Hollen thought back to the moment he’d put all his hope into one woman. When he’d given Joselyn Helena Elise Fury the power to destroy him or make his life worth living. Nothing h
ad ever been more terrifying. Not the day he mastered Jagomri, not the time he killed his first veligiri, not the moment he’d been made responsible for his clan.

  “What do you mean by win me?”

  He swallowed. “A Dokiri has a year to convince his bride to stay with him, to win her heart. If he succeeds, then his hamma puts her mark upon him as well and the bond is complete. If not, he must let her go.”

  When she spoke, her voice was a whisper. “You—you have to free me?”

  Hollen’s breath hitched. “Eventually.”

  Joselyn’s grip finally gave way. Hollen shot a hand out just before she slipped below the water’s surface. Careful not to chafe her brittle flesh, he wrapped an arm about her waist and drew her to himself. He tucked her against his chest like a babe freshly pulled from the womb. Her dimpled chin rolled over his shoulder and red lashes fluttered over his ear.

  She’d never allow this if she were well. But he couldn’t let her drown. She needed him to hold her, and that was exactly what he would do. He tightened the wool sheet around her and ran a hand over her scalp, hugging her closer. He’d savor this nearness like it was the only chance he’d get, because, by the gods, it probably would be.

  Hollen pressed his face into her water-darkened hair and inhaled her scent. It was distinctly Joselyn. Sweet, heady. He thought of the long nights ahead when he might be lying alone in his bed, aching for that scent. His hold on her tightened.

  “What happens to the women who refuse you?” Her murmuring lips grazed the flesh below his ear. He shuddered, and his fist clenched in her floating hair.

  “They’re returned to wherever they were taken from and given enough ivory for a rich dowry.” Hollen strained to breathe evenly as she spoke again.

  “And your riders? What happens to those who are rejected?”

  Hollen fixed his eyes on the wall of the alcove. “Those who can’t convince their brides to stay don’t get a second chance. One either wins what he’s claimed, or he lives without.” He prayed he wasn’t prophesying his own future.