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

by Denali Day

  Hollen watched the two of them with a passive expression, but Joselyn didn’t miss the clenching of his bound fists.

  “I respect that,” Dante murmured. He shook his head. “But I have no time for it. House Viridian is on the rise, and you are going to do everything in your power to help me see it climb above all others.”

  Reaching through the bars, he traced an icy fingertip along the sweep of her jaw to pause at the point of her chin.

  “You will, or each night, when I’ve finished amusing myself with you, I shall amuse myself with him. Am I clearly understood, dear wife?”

  No. He was not. Joselyn’s mind spun with morbid possibilities. What sort of amusement might Dante Viridian derive from a bound and broken Hollen? Despite what he’d said, her imagination was likely not so grand as Dante’s.

  “Yes,” she whispered. Her shoulders slumped.

  “Good.” His voice was low and even. Joselyn jumped when the casual lilt of his voice resumed. “Now, I've one final matter to settle.”

  As Dante stepped away from the bars and back toward Hollen, Joselyn’s breath caught. Her eyes skipped between Dante and her savage.

  “Fear not, little candlestick,” Viridian called over his shoulder. “My dealings with you are done.”

  He directed all his attention to Hollen.

  “You’ve robbed me of something precious. My wife’s maidenhead. It’s a pleasure I’ll spend many nights regretting.” He pointed at Hollen and casually added, “But you won’t have the last word.”

  Joselyn flinched as soundly as if she’d been slapped. She put both hands on the bar and called out, “Lord Viridian, I—”

  Without glancing at her, Dante held up a hand. “Please, wife. Don’t bother to deny it. Rest assured that I hold nothing against you.”

  Joselyn swallowed heavily as Dante refocused on Hollen. “In Morhagen, thieves lose their hands.”

  A whimper caught in Joselyn’s throat. She started looking around the dark room, uncertain what precisely she was searching for. Nothing appeared. No weapon. No help. No escape.

  “But seeing as how you’ll be spending the rest of your life in chains, that hardly makes an impact. No. I think your eyes are more practical.”

  Joselyn stopped breathing. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

  Wouldn’t he? Every rumor about Dante Viridian sparked in her mind.

  From within the cell, Hollen glared at Dante. Unflinching. Defiant.

  Returning to the ensconced torch, Dante retrieved the little spoon he had placed in the flames.

  Joselyn could keep still no longer. She spoke in a shaking voice. “Lord Viridian, please, this isn’t necessary. You’ve been deprived of nothing. I have not been touched by this man.”

  Dante continued to approach Hollen. “You know, the more often you lie to me, the easier it becomes to recognize when you’re doing it. We’ve many long years ahead of us, wife—”

  Viridian cast a vicious glance in her direction.

  “—You ought to slow down.”

  Dante gripped a handful of Hollen’s dark hair and yanked his head against the wall. Hollen grunted from the impact.

  “Lord Viridian, I beg you, don’t do this!” Joselyn threw herself to her knees and all but screamed, “Please!”

  A pause.

  Dante released Hollen and turned, approaching the place where she knelt clutching the bars.

  He stared down at her. “Please…what?”

  Joselyn knew what he wanted.

  “Husband,” she sobbed, as tears cascaded down her face.

  Dante regarded her long and hard as she wept. “Compassionate to a fault. Very well, Wife. You should know early on that I’m not incapable of mercy.”

  Joselyn choked on her tears, trying, and failing, to regain her composure.

  “I shall take only one of his eyes.”

  Joselyn blinked as his words sunk in. As he walked away, Joselyn clutched at the bars and hauled herself to her feet.

  “No, stop!” she cried.

  Dante ignored her. To his credit, Hollen didn’t flinch as he was gripped by the scalp and forced once more against the wall.

  Joselyn flew to the dungeon entrance and threw all of her weight backward against the handle. The door didn’t budge. It had been locked. She’d been too distracted by Hollen’s presence to notice. She jumped up to the little window and screamed through the bars for help. No one came. She screamed anyway.

  She was distracted from her efforts by the sound of Hollen’s muffled cry. She whirled around and froze against the dungeon door. She watched in mute horror as Dante scooped the glowing spoon into the left hollow of her savage’s skull.

  Joselyn could hear his flesh singing, even around his sounds of excruciating agony. A puff of steam rose into the air above Hollen’s face. Every muscle in his body was clenched, his veins standing out beneath his skin. As she watched, Joselyn’s own fresh brand roared to tortured life. Seconds passed, but time seemed to stretch into one terrifying eternity.

  When Dante finally released him, Hollen was panting. His arms pulled straight again and his chin hung so far down into his chest that Joselyn couldn’t see his face. Part of her didn’t want to see it. The rest of her needed to. She raced across the room and crashed against the bars of his cell.

  “Hollen!”

  He didn’t move. Didn’t answer. He seemed only intent on breathing.

  “Hollen, look at me!”

  Nothing.

  “Be reasonable, dear Wife. The man’s just been through hell. Let us give him a night to recover before we go making demands of him.” Dante chucked an arm forward, and something hit the floor with a dull thud. It was Hollen’s eye.

  Joselyn looked up. Icy rage needled beneath every inch of her skin, and her fingers flexed. Red clouded the corners of her vision as her instincts cried out to attack.

  Dante looked not the least bit threatened. Unlocking the cell, he strode casually through the gate and extended a pale arm in her direction. “Come, Wife, we’ve a marriage to consummate.”

  She knew now, truly understood why Dante Viridian was called ‘The Butcher of Brance.’

  39

  Wings in a Snare

  “Still yourself, Wife! Or you’ll get your wish and we shall both return to his cell.”

  Dante’s words turned her blood to ice. She went half limp as he ushered her back up the stairs leading to the castle’s main level. She’d been twisting wildly against him, desperate to free herself, to go back to Hollen, to save him. It was a mad need. She had no plan, no options, no allies.

  Her new husband had taken Hollen’s eye. He’d threatened to take the other should she not obey his every command. That Hollen was here, that his fate rested in the hands of a madman, was her fault. Hers, and Marcus Fury’s.

  Damn you! Damn you, Father!

  Rage had moved her beyond the point of tears. She passed the guards at the top of the stairs with a dry face. She twisted her head toward the closest one, trying to catch his eye.

  Dante clenched her arm with bone-crushing force. A warning. Joselyn turned her gaze to the floor. Would they see the blood on Dante’s hand? Hollen’s blood? Pain seized her stomach. Surely they’d heard her screams. Stone halls carried sound an eerie distance. If that hadn’t been enough to draw their aid, nothing would.

  The halls of Castle Arland were hauntingly empty, save for the guards, whose number had been reduced after Hollen’s capture. Joselyn’s feet scraped their way up the carpeted stairs that led from the grand foyer to her temporary chamber. The higher they climbed, the harder Dante had to work to pull her with him. They crested the top and then made their way down the narrow corridor. She couldn’t do this, couldn’t let this happen. Without thought, Joselyn pulled against Dante’s grip.

  “You’re dismissed.” He hissed at the pair of guards who’d been stationed outside their room.

  He was sending them away? Joselyn could only think of one reason why he’d bother. She wanted to faint.<
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  The guards wasted no time in obeying, though one of them seemed to take note of Joselyn’s wild expression. His step faltered only a moment before Dante’s wicked glare sent him jogging after his watchmate.

  Instead of barging straight into the chamber, as Joselyn had expected, Dante swung her around to face him. His nails dug into the pale fabric of her robe and gouged her upper arms. He pressed the end of his nose into her face and crushed his lips onto hers.

  Joselyn whimpered as her teeth cut into the flesh of her own mouth. Was this his idea of a kiss? This violent imposition? Her body went rigid against him. Dante only pulled her closer. It wasn’t until she was nearly suffocating that he finally pulled his mouth off hers.

  Joselyn gasped and jolted backward. Dante gave her not an inch. He slid an arm around her back and pulled her up against himself until she was all but dangling on her toes. His cool breath chilled her ear. “Compose yourself, dear wife. I anticipate a willing bride. Anything less would leave me sorely vexed. Do I make myself clear?”

  Joselyn was about to respond when she caught a wisp of movement in her periphery. Dante must have seen it too. They both turned their heads. A wrinkled old Arland maid, the same one who’d dressed Joselyn’s brand, stood at the end of the hall. She must have turned the corner at precisely the wrong moment. Joselyn couldn’t stop herself. She poured every drop of wretched, pitiful emotion into her eyes, begging for help.

  “Be gone, crone.” Dante snarled.

  The old woman didn’t move right away. She seemed to take in the sight of Joselyn before her aged gaze slid to Dante. Her mouth went flat. Eyes flinty. Dante’s grip tightened on Joselyn’s waist, and she whimpered.

  A moment passed. Finally, the old woman turned and ambled back around the corner from where she’d come. Joselyn’s heart went dark. Above her, Dante scoffed. “Did you think to be rescued? I wonder how long that optimism will survive.”

  He released her. Leaning forward, Dante opened the chamber door and nudged Joselyn inside. She swallowed back a sob and entered the dimly lit chamber. The click and barring of the door behind them smothered what remained of her faith.

  Joselyn whipped around. The predator lurked forward. Dante’s gaze hovered over the ground by her feet. Joselyn glanced down. The wedding gifts. Her eyes jumped back to Dante. He was smiling.

  “Though few, it appears our guests were quite generous. Come, let us see what they’ve brought us.”

  Joselyn scowled. She had a strong sense for what Dante had in mind. Most of the gifts would be clothing meant for a bride. Clothing meant to be appreciated only by her new husband.

  Wood scraped across stone. Dante pulled up the single chair in the room. He set it a few paces in front of Joselyn, between her and the door. As he took his seat, Joselyn took a step back to avoid his foot as he crossed it over one knee. He stretched his arms out as though making himself comfortable for a long night ahead. Threading his fingers together, he rested the back of his head against his folded hands.

  He grinned. “Well?”

  Joselyn shook her head, not so much refusing as trying to understand how her life had led up to this moment. Dante’s smile faltered.

  “My dear, you seem intent on spoiling the night by requiring me to make constant threats. I’ve decided to make no more.”

  Every trace of mad amusement vanished. Uncrossing his legs, Dante dropped his elbows to his knees and leaned forward. “Open the gifts.”

  Do it. Or he’ll hurt Hollen.

  A voice spoke out in her mind as though from another person. One who didn’t feel, only reasoned. Numbly, Joselyn knelt and picked up the nearest box. She took a breath as she wobbled to her feet.

  Exquisitely wrapped, it was small and heavy. Joselyn tore off the emerald-colored paper to reveal a wooden box. Inside was a cylindrical glass bottle. Candlelight filtered through clear, yellow fluid inside.

  “Open it.” Dante said, his voice softer than it had been.

  When she uncorked the top, a briny scent wafted to her. Her nose wrinkled up. Dante chuckled.

  “Torrin oil. Very expensive. It seems you’ve more allies than you thought.”

  Joselyn didn’t respond. She stood there awkwardly with the bottle in one hand and the cork in the other.

  “Do you know what it’s for?” Dante asked.

  Joselyn kept her eyes on the bottle and shook her head.

  “It’s to help your body receive mine.”

  The bottle slipped from her fingers and shattered on the floor. Joselyn jumped, one of her slippered feet coming off the ground. Her eyes shot up to Dante, who was staring at the ground with pursed lips.

  “Well,” he said, meeting her eyes, “so much for that.” He stifled a laugh.

  Joselyn looked at the glassy mess on the floor and bit her tongue hard. She searched for a clean spot to stand on and caught her balance. If she stepped on a broken shard, it would be the least terrible thing that had happened this day.

  “Let’s try another,” Dante said, already sounding bored.

  Joselyn selected another box, this one larger and a good deal lighter. It took her a few moments to untie the ostentatious ribbon sitting atop it. She lifted the lid and her stomach lurched. It was a gown, or something like one. There was not nearly enough material to give it a practical use. Joselyn plucked out the sheer, blue garment like a soiled rag.

  Dante’s eyes glowed with pleasure. “Mmm. Very nice. I think it will look much better on you.”

  Joselyn didn’t move, and he quirked an impatient brow. “Go on.”

  Closing her eyes, she sucked in a breath. You have no choice. You must.

  She pulled off her robe, then reached to gather up the hem of her white gown.

  “Wait,” Dante said. He closed his eyes. “Tell me when you’ve finished.”

  Joselyn glared. Her skin felt like it was melting away from her bones. This was all a game to him. A pleasurable pastime. And somehow, Joselyn knew what she was witnessing was the very best of him, and that it carried an unbearably brief expiration date. She pulled on the blue gown.

  When Dante opened his eyes, he gazed at her with interest similar to a farmer selecting which hen to slaughter next. A frown crossed his face when his eyes landed on the bandages covering her breasts. “What’s this, then?”

  Lacking the will to regurgitate the lie she’d been supplied with, Joselyn answered plainly. “A wound.”

  Dante seemed satisfied with that answer, though his enthusiasm had dampened. “A shame. It does spoil much of the effect.”

  Joselyn shuddered as his eyes appraised her other curves which were on full display through the near translucent material. She fought the urge to cover herself with her hands, knowing it would only prompt him to ‘ask’ her to remove them. One more opportunity to demonstrate his power over her.

  “I’ve changed my mind,” he said. “It will look much better on the floor.”

  Joselyn kept her expression neutral, refusing to entertain him with her shock. Part of her wanted to tear the gown off and march directly to the bed, to have done with this horrific experience.

  “Shall I remove it?” she asked with all the passion of a man paying his taxes.

  Dante hesitated, perhaps surprised by her forwardness. For full effect, Joselyn lifted her hands to her shoulders and made to peel back the thin, lacy straps.

  “No,” he spat. “Open another.”

  Joselyn made sure the next box she chose was small and heavy. Perfume. Dante bid her apply some then and there. The floral scent nauseated her, but it was better than undressing again.

  Her eyes searched for a fourth gift, favoring the small packages. They paused on a small, rectangular box wrapped in brown paper with a crimson ribbon. It was the tie of the bow that caught her attention.

  Tansy.

  Joselyn’s nurse was the only one she’d ever seen tie a knot that way. The plain red color of the ribbon and simple brown paper was as good as a signature. Joselyn hadn’t seen her nurse since
just before her failed escape attempt. After learning that she and Tansy had made arrangements to go out to the stables, Marcus Fury had prevented any further contact between them. The threat of death dangled over her nurse’s neck like a hangman’s noose.

  Joselyn bent down and brought up the package. It was heavy. Thank the gods. Gently, Joselyn untied the bow and tore off the paper. A wooden box with a slide top lid. What would her nurse give her for a night like this? More torrin oil? Joselyn swallowed and slid back the cover. A glint of light reflected the candles, and Joselyn froze.

  It was a plain, unsheathed, dagger.

  Joselyn’s heart raced, sending a rush of blood down her limbs and back to her heart. Every nerve in her body lit up.

  “Well?” Dante asked.

  His voice startled her. Joselyn’s gaze flew to his. He was looking straight back. Joselyn watched realization creep up on him.

  He lunged from the chair.

  Joselyn’s hand was already around the knife’s hilt. The box fell away. Lord Viridian flew toward her, and every instinct told Joselyn to flee. She didn’t.

  She leaned forward.

  A wall of black robes crashed into her body, taking her to the floor.

  Her vision went white as all the air rushed from her lungs. The ceiling was just coming back into view when Dante’s face moved over hers. His full weight was upon her. She knew he was shouting, but Joselyn couldn’t make out his words over the ringing in her ears. His hands went around her throat and clamped down hard.

  She gagged.

  Her hands tried to go to his wrists, to pull them off her neck. They didn’t move. They were still plastered to the blade hilt buried in Dante’s gut.

  Pull it out.

  The voice rang in her mind, but it wasn’t hers. It was Hollen’s. Suddenly she was back at Bedmeg, standing at the forge. Hollen had a knife at his own stomach, and he was explaining to her that blood loss was what ultimately killed men. “Pull out the knife, mu hamma, and he’ll be dead in moments”.

  Joselyn ignored her throat and, with all her might, yanked back on the blade hilt. Its descent was sluggish against the weight of Dante’s body bearing down upon her. Shaking, he cried out. Joselyn could barely hear him. Her head felt like it would burst as he crushed the edges of her throat together.