Vanished Sisters: The Lycan King's Slave Island Chapter 106

Natasha's POV

Hours had passed since Modred brought me to his den.

I sat curled against the far wall, my arms wrapped around my knees, watching the massive beast that guarded the entrance.

*My beloved,* I'd called him. And he'd come.

But now he wouldn't speak to me. Wouldn't respond when I tried to reach him through whatever strange bond connected us.

The beast simply sat there, those amber eyes fixed on me with unblinking intensity.

Every time I'd tried to approach the door—to test if I could leave—a low, rumbling growl would vibrate from his chest. A clear warning.

*Stay. Don't leave. You're mine.*

So I stayed.

"Mordred?" I ventured aloud, my voice barely above a whisper. "Are you... are you still in there? Can you hear me?"

The beast's ear flicked. That was the only response.

I tried again, this time reaching out with my mind like how he'd spoken in my mind.

*Mordred? Please. Talk to me. I don't understand what's happening.*

Nothing. Just silence in my head where his voice had been.

The beast shifted slightly, repositioning itself but never taking its eyes off me.

I didn't understand. It hadn't tried to mount me. Hadn't tried to drink my blood. It just... watched. Guarded. Protected.

*What do you want from me?*

---

Time passed. I wasn't sure how much.

At some point, I dozed off—exhaustion finally overcoming the surreal nature of my situation.

When I woke, it was to the sound of footsteps in the corridor outside.

The beast's head snapped toward the entrance immediately. A low growl vibrated from its chest—a warning to whoever approached.

I heard nervous voices outside the broken doorway.

"Just—just leave it by the gate," someone whispered urgently. Male voice. Young. Terrified. "Don't go any closer. The beast will tear you apart."

"I know that!" another voice hissed back. Also male. Also scared. "I'm not stupid. Do you think I want to die today?"

"Then move faster! Before it decides to come out here!"

More sounds. The clink of metal and ceramic. Something heavy being set down.

"There. It's done. Now let's get out of here before—"

"Is the boy even still alive in there? Maybe the beast already killed him and—"

"I don't know and I don't care! I'm not going to check! Now move!"

Retreating footsteps. Running. Fleeing as fast as they could.

The beast rose to its feet in one fluid motion. Moved to the broken doorway and looked out.

After a moment of listening—making sure the humans were truly gone—it reached out with one massive paw and dragged something inside.

A large wooden tray. Laden with food.

My stomach growled immediately. I hadn't eaten since before the auction. How many hours ago had that been? Twelve? Twenty-four?

The tray held roasted meat—chicken or maybe duck, I couldn't tell. Fresh bread that still steamed slightly. Cheese. Grapes and apples. Even a clay pitcher that sloshed with what smelled like wine.

*They're feeding us. Feeding me.*

The realization was startling. Someone—probably Lord Fergus—had ordered food brought to the King's Den. For me.

The beast pushed the tray toward me with one clawed foot, then retreated to its watching position near the door.

I stared at the food. Part of me wanted to refuse it on principle. To show some kind of defiance.

But my stomach had other ideas. And refusing wouldn't change my circumstances anyway.

I moved cautiously toward the tray, keeping my eyes on the beast for any reaction.

It remained perfectly still. Just watching.

I knelt beside the tray and picked up a piece of bread. It was still warm, soft on the inside with a crispy crust. I tore off a piece and put it in my mouth.

Oh God. It was delicious.

After days of eating stale bread and thin gruel as a slave, this fresh bread tasted like heaven.

I ate more. Added some cheese. The sharp, tangy flavor made my eyes water with relief.

When I'd eaten enough to ease the worst of my hunger, I sat back and looked at the beast.

It hadn't moved. Hadn't tried to take any of the food for itself.

Just... watched me eat.

An idea formed. Probably a stupid one. But I acted on it anyway.

I picked up one of the large pieces of roasted meat. It was still warm, juices dripping from the tender flesh.

"Here," I said softly, holding it out toward the beast. "You should eat too. You haven't had anything since... well, since you brought me here."

The beast's head tilted. Those intelligent eyes fixed on the meat in my hand. Then on my face.

For a long moment, nothing happened.

Then—slowly, carefully—the beast moved forward.

Each step was measured. Deliberate. Like it was approaching a skittish animal that might bolt.

When it reached me, it lowered its massive head. Brought that muzzle full of razor-sharp fangs close to my hand.

I held perfectly still, my heart pounding. One wrong move and those teeth could tear my hand off.

The beast's mouth opened slightly. And with surprising gentleness, it took the meat from my palm.

Its fangs never touched my skin. Never even came close.

It retreated with its prize and settled back into its corner to eat.

I watched it tear into the meat with those powerful jaws. Watched the muscles work beneath its fur as it chewed and swallowed.

Something warm bloomed in my chest. A feeling I couldn't quite name.

"You're not really mindless, are you?" I said quietly. "You understand me. You understand everything."

The beast paused in its eating. Looked at me with those amber eyes.

And I knew—with absolute certainty—that I was right.

The King was still in there somewhere. Beneath the beast. Aware. Conscious. Maybe not in full control, but present.