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

by Denali Day

  “Had enough dancing?” Hollen asked, his voice teasing.

  She paused, then fixed him with a look so brazen she should have blushed. With her eyes still on him, she began unlacing the cords of her dress. The men sitting at Hollen’s sides suddenly became very interested in the crowd, the dancing, even the floor. But, their Salig only had eyes for the woman standing before him. They narrowed to slits as Joselyn yanked the wool hala over her head and her red hair spilled out around her. Without thinking, she tossed the garment into Hollen’s lap, then retreated back toward the circle.

  She rejoined arms with the dancing women. Perhaps she should have taken care to fold the dress, especially in front of the clan who’d given it to her. Joselyn tried, but couldn’t quite muster up any regret. The look on her barbarian’s face had been worth it. When she thought it was safe, Joselyn risked a glance back at Hollen. He was leaning forward, his attention fixed solely upon her. The hala remained conspicuously wadded up in his lap. Surely it was too hot for that. Looking away, she grinned.

  Joselyn was gasping for breath when the music changed. She found herself without a partner as her companions broke off to pair with their hatus. Her panting slowed when she saw Hollen standing a few paces away. His bare feet were drawn apart, his arms crossed about his chest. His gaze ran over her, exploring, suggesting all manner of impropriety. Joselyn, who’d been swaying with the beat of the drums, went suddenly still.

  He closed the distance between them. Joselyn tilted her head back. He was magnificent. He towered above her like a god, all strength and power. In that moment, she wanted to match him. Wanted to appear to him as he appeared to her, the image of desire.

  From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of the other women, and their bodies pressed tightly against their hatus’. They wore the necklines of their shifts precariously open, venting the heat from their bodies, their tanshi marks visible. Joselyn’s fingers trailed up to her collar, and began yanking at the threads which held it closed.

  Hollen’s eyes locked upon her hand as she moved, and she watched with deep satisfaction when his lips parted. Pressing her shoulders back, Joselyn sighed at the kiss of cool air that drifted over the valley between her breasts. Hollen looked at her then, the fire reflected in his dark eyes. Or was that simply him?

  His hands reached out and took her by the waist. He dragged her across the narrow space that remained between them. She went willingly. Her own hands glided over the soft hairs at his chest as her stomach settled against his body. He was all muscle. All man. Her fingers grazed over the ridges of his idadi marks, appreciating, for the thousandth time, how plentiful they were.

  Hollen’s hands went to her shoulder blades. They ran down her back in a firm stroke, only to settle at the swell of her hips. His fingers massaged her through her wool under-shift. With a shock, she realized that she wanted to feel his hands there, without the barrier of clothing.

  He began moving, or rather he was moving her, his heavy palms rocking her in time with the drums. Joselyn let him lead her, falling into the rhythm he set. He swayed in tandem.

  They danced like that for what seemed like hours, each learning the other through sheer motion. All at once he was standing behind her. He drew her rear against his hips. She gasped at the intimacy, but put up no resistance. He might have groaned, but it was impossible to say over the pounding of the drums. She continued to rock, allowing the music to carry her even as she pressed her head against Hollen’s chest. One of his hands slid over her belly and pulled into her navel. Fire swelled beneath his palm, and Joselyn closed her eyes.

  Hot breath caressed her ear, lips trailed down her neck. She shivered, melting when he pressed his mouth into the place where her throat met her shoulder. Her eyes flew open, but her vision remained hazy, blurred completely at the edges. She brought her hands over his and gripped him for dear life. His fingers bunched the wool of her dress together, pricking the skin beneath them. His kiss at her neck turned to the softest of nips. She could take no more. She broke away.

  The music still played, but already the ring was cleared of half its couples. They had gone back to their boks, or perhaps to the springs. Joselyn looked over her shoulder at Hollen. He was tense, his entire body leaning toward her, like she possessed some magnetic pull. Tentatively, she held out a hand to her savage.

  He slid his palm against hers. Though excitement blazed in his eyes, he looked uncertain. Joselyn smiled at him and mustered up all her courage. She hoped it would be enough for both of them.

  Joselyn handed him a torch and led them up the stony path to their bok. She glanced back once or twice, catching his simmering eyes upon her, the firm set of his jaw. It was clear he was thinking very hard on something. Joselyn could empathize.

  They crept through the tunnel. Joselyn sighed on the coolness of the air as they entered their bok. She’d been to Lavinia’s today, and, unlike hers and Hollen’s, it was clear a woman had been living there. It was softer, warmer. Joselyn resolved to put her own mark on their home as soon as possible. Hollen ignored the torches and lit the firepit, setting the room in a dim amber glow. He tossed the torch onto the pile.

  When he turned toward her, Joselyn inhaled, at once aware of just how indecent she must appear. Her hair hung in tousled locks over her shoulder and about her waist. Her shift was still open, baring her freckled chest. She could feel the sensual flush of her own cheeks. She lifted hazy eyes to his, a question lingering in her mind. As though he’d heard it, Hollen stepped toward her and took her in his arms.

  “Mu hamma.” He was breathless. Closing his eyes, he skimmed his lips along the curve of her brow.

  Desire swelled in the cradle of her hips and stretched up into her chest and throat. She pressed her nose into his chest and inhaled his scent. She felt weak, like her knees would give out from desire. Was it the wine? No, she hadn’t drunk enough. In any case, her desire had kept growing long after she’d stopped drinking.

  Joselyn leaned into him. He was ever a pillar of strength. Her fingers trailed up his jaw, and she brought his face down to hers. She stood on her toes and explored him with her mouth, running the swell of her lip along the edge of his beard, relishing the soft prickles. She heard him sigh and felt the tremor that wracked down his body. He squeezed her to him. She arched against his arms, her body thrusting into the granite slab of his. She moaned as he kissed her.

  That little sound seemed to light a fire in her savage, and one of his hands seized her by the hair. She shuddered as his tongue slid between her lips, begging, no, demanding, entrance. She acquiesced, endorsing his exploration.

  Curiosity burned at her, begging for satisfaction. What would it be like to give herself to a man? To this man? He, who was so foreign, so wild. One whom she’d feared, and loved? Joselyn had to know. Whatever else happened, she could not live her life wondering.

  Joselyn remembered his words to her in the springs. “If I thought you wanted me, there’s not a thing in this world that could stop me from possessing you.”

  When Hollen broke the kiss to gasp for air, Joselyn went stiff against him. His eyes, which had gone half-lidded with wanting, sobered, instantly attentive. Joselyn took a step back, but didn’t break the visual connection between them. A quiet moment passed, and she brought her hands up to the wide collar of her shift. She pulled it apart, allowing it to slip off her shoulders and fall into a puddle on the ground.

  I want you, savage.

  Hollen’s chest expanded as his eyes gaze over her bare body. “Joselyn.”

  She pressed her lips together and closed her eyes, stealing herself against the shame that tried to rear its ugly head. This was her savage. She was his hamma. And there was no room for guilt here. When her lashes fluttered open, Joselyn saw the need in him. The craving. She smiled.

  He stepped toward her, a shaking hand extended. He didn’t touch her. Instead, he dropped his palms so they hovered at her sides. His face hung inches above hers. She ran a hand up his naked chest where his
heart pounded furiously.

  “Is this what you want?” he whispered, his body still as the mountain they stood on. He wasn’t even breathing as he waited for her answer.

  Joselyn considered his question, considered what all she may be giving up if her words followed where her body was leading. With her virtue gone, relinquished to this savage, she may never acquire remittance into her household.

  She didn’t care.

  “Yes.” And she meant it. With everything in her, she meant it.

  Hollen needed no further encouragement. He gathered her up in his arms and carried her to the plush furs of their bed.

  Joselyn sighed and wrapped her arms around his neck. She wasn’t going anywhere. She was Joselyn Helena Elise Fury. Saliga of Bedmeg.

  Hamma of Hollen the Soulless.

  32

  A Feast for the Gods

  “You’ve conquered me, woman.”

  Hollen lay panting on his back at Joselyn’s side. A thin sheen of sweat made his idadi glow in the firelight. She knew now those scars extended even beyond where his pants covered. It was inevitable, for a man as fierce as her savage. There was only so much space on one’s arms and chest, giant or no.

  Joselyn lie curled into his side, a bare leg stretched over his hips. She sighed, still caught up in the swell of lust that had prompted her reckless abandon. She brought a hand up to his beard and pulled his chin down to her face. She gave him a light peck on the lips, but Hollen brushed a hand over her ear and tangled his fingers into her red locks. He pulled her forward to deepen the kiss.

  Finally, they broke apart, and Hollen looked her in the eyes. His expression lost some of its haziness. “Did I hurt you?”

  Joselyn’s womb clenched automatically, and she felt the rawness there, as well as the moisture on her thighs that was surely in part blood. He’d been so careful with her, so gentle. But, as Tansy had explained, some things couldn’t be helped.

  “I’m all right,” she breathed.

  He studied her as his thumb stroked at her scalp. His other arm, the one she was lying on, curled around her. He kissed her brow. Once, twice, caressing her with his lips. She lifted her chin, reveling in his tenderness. He smelled so good.

  She felt as though she’d spent the night sipping on the strongest of wines, but she hadn’t. This feeling was all Hollen’s doing. Her limbs were bathed in warm fatigue and her head swum with dizzy passion. Indeed, she was intoxicated. He intoxicated her senses.

  Hollen rolled onto his side so that he was facing her. One of his knees wedged between hers. The fur blanket slid down her arm. Joselyn looked. He was pulling it away from their bodies. She snapped for it.

  “No,” he pleaded. He propped himself up on one elbow and stared down at her. “Let me see you, mu hamma.”

  Joselyn started to speak, but he dipped his head down to hers and kissed away her words. She never wanted him to stop. She sighed as he pressed his tongue between her lips. The blanket slipped the rest of the way down her body.

  Hollen pulled back, and his dark eyes scanned the freckled expanse of her skin. Did he think she had too many? Joselyn pressed the side of her face into the furs. His appraisal scorched her, and it was the most delectable kind of burn. That heat intensified as he drew a fingertip down the curve of her waist and over the swell of her hip. He stopped at her mid-thigh and gave her a little squeeze. His gaze crept back to her face.

  “You are perfect,” he said, his tone worshipful.

  Joselyn dared to meet his eyes. He’d seen all of her now. More than any other man. If he was pleased, then she was satisfied.

  “Flawless.” He kneaded her thigh, nearly swallowing it with his massive hand.

  Joselyn dropped her gaze forward and performed her own assessment. His body was every bit as imposing as the rest of him, though she knew now that her savage had a generous side as well. He’d shared that part of himself with her, lavishing her with every bit of his attention and affection.

  “Tell me,” Hollen said, “was it Sigvard taming his gegatu that got us here?”

  Joselyn blinked at him, then snorted.

  “Because I’ll toss his skinny ass up to their nest every night if that’s what it takes.”

  She burst into laughter, and her hands bunched into fists at his chest.

  Hollen’s face lit up with delight. “I love that sound. I love it more when I’m the cause of it.”

  She quieted, smiling up at him.

  He brought the calloused fingers of one hand up to the hollow of her throat. “Though it’s no longer my favorite sound of yours.”

  Joselyn sucked in a breath, her cheeks warming. She’d been wanton with him. Succumbed to the basest of instincts. She should be mortified. But as she looked at him, at his utter fascination, a thrill of boldness rippled through her.

  She slid a hand down his body, past his waist, and grinned with satisfaction as his eyes rolled back into his head and a rumble rose in his throat.

  “You are quite expressive, yourself, Salig.”

  His eyes cracked open, looking at her like she was a feast for the gods, and he, a starving man. “Are you happy, Joselyn?”

  Behind his thin veil of humor, he was vulnerable. He wanted to know if she regretted what had just happened. If she regretted him. She brought her wandering hand back up to his chest and stroked an absent pattern there, allowing her eyes to retreat to the same spot.

  “I am happy,” she muttered.

  It was true. Joselyn was certain she’d never felt such contentment in all her life than she did in that moment, gathered in Hollen’s arms, no barrier between them.

  As for regrets . . . What had really changed? It was a truth she’d long been ignoring. Even if she were to return to Morhagen, no one would assume her still a maiden. She’d been carried off by a man, a wild man. The conclusion would be drawn that Joselyn was despoiled. What had she really sacrificed in giving herself to him?

  He ran his fingers through her hair. She’d sacrificed nothing, and gained everything. This man had held nothing back from her since the moment she’d arrived. His love was free and bountiful, given with an open hand and never running dry. Had she ever felt so cherished? So desirable? She didn’t want it to end.

  Joselyn curled into him. He pulled her closer until the lengths of their bodies were flat against each other. Hollen sighed. His massive lungs caused his chest to rise and fall heavily. He pressed a kiss to her forehead.

  “You can’t imagine my thoughts when you dropped your shift for me.”

  Joselyn’s mouth firmed into a line. Tansy’s jaw would have dropped. Had she really done that? She? The Lady Fury, brazenly baring her body before a man?

  Only this man. Only ever for him.

  A sneaky sense of pride began to well in her chest. Now more than ever, Joselyn felt like a woman fully grown. Powerful.

  “What were your thoughts?” she asked, dismissing her lingering embarrassment.

  He scoffed, as though there were so many he could hardly select one or two. “Aside from being utterly devastated by your beauty?” His voice was full of mirth but not at all unserious. “I was wondering what on Helig’s green earth I had done right, and praying to Regna that I wouldn’t ruin it in the next hour.”

  He pressed himself backward and devoured her mouth with rapid kisses. “I should have prayed for a lifetime. Now that I’ve had you, I’ll think of nothing else until I have you again.”

  He continued pressing his lips to her mouth, at the corners and even into her dimpled chin. He moved so quickly Joselyn had a hard time catching her breath. She giggled, pressing against him, trying to get out of his mouth’s path. He didn’t let up.

  “You’ve ruined me, mu hamma.”

  He kissed her.

  “It’s hopeless!”

  Another kiss.

  “You’ll never get another moment’s peace!”

  He pressed his mouth hard against hers. Joselyn’s giggles turned to outright laughter around their melded lips. Loo
sening his grip, he finally allowed her to break away. His grin matched hers, wide and full of wonder. A quiet moment passed, and his eyes softened. “Say you won’t leave.”

  Joselyn’s smile faltered. “I swore to you I wouldn’t.”

  He shook his head. “I mean ever. Say you won’t ever leave me.”

  Could she do it? Skies, she wanted to. She wanted to promise him everything. And why not? Even if she eventually left, what would it change? It would be too late. Who would she save? Her father would still be dead, her house in ruins. She opened her mouth, ready to make the vow.

  Something stopped her. Would he still want her in the same way if she pledged herself to him? She’d been Joselyn of Bedmeg for a matter of weeks. She’d been Lady Fury her entire life. What would change if she gave that up? Would he change? Would he eventually come to see things as she had? That giving up all hope for her house was a selfish and cowardly thing to do? Fear tightened in her chest. “I can’t, Hollen.”

  Not yet.

  His face fell, and his fingers stopped petting. He stared hard into her eyes, his breath the only sound save for the flickering of the fire.

  “Then I will,” he whispered. “I’ll say it until the words become yours. I won’t ever leave you, mu hamma. You are my bride, my only, my mated one. I will always come for you.”

  He cupped her head and pressed his forehead against hers. “I love you, Joselyn.”

  Her heart stuttered in her chest.

  Love? He loved her? No one had ever declared such a thing, no one except for Tansy. But that was different. Tansy’s love was that of a mother. And even Tansy received payment for her services. Joselyn’s own parents had never declared such an emotion as love for her.

  What did that word mean to Hollen? Hadn’t he just said? He’d promised that he’d stand with her, never to leave, always to come. And there had been no reservations in that vow. No price that she must first pay.