Vanished Sisters: The Lycan King's Slave Island Chapter 111

Davelina's POV

The guards exchanged glances, then hurried away down the corridor.

Leaving me alone on the floor with Lord Fergus towering over me.

I scrambled forward on my hands and knees. Grabbed at the hem of his coat.

"Please," I begged. Tears streaming down my face. "Please, my Lord. Help me. My brother—my brother's been taken. I saw it. Just now. "

"I know your brother was taken," Fergus interrupted. His voice was flat. "He was taken by the King. From the Great Hall."

"No!" I shook my head frantically. "Not the King! Not anymore! Just now—minutes ago—I saw a pregnant Lycan woman take him from the King's Den! She had him bound and gagged and she was taking him somewhere and—"

I saw the moment understanding hit.

Fergus's entire body went rigid. His jaw clenched. His eyes narrowed.

"A pregnant woman," he said slowly.

"Yes! Yes, that's her!" Hope surged in my chest. "You know who she is?"

"Selene." The name came out like a curse.

Fergus looked down at me. Some of the coldness in his expression had shifted. Not quite to warmth. But to something less hostile.

"Show me," he commanded. "Show me where you saw them. Quickly."

I stood on shaking legs. "Yes, my Lord. This way."

I led him through the corridors at a near-run. Back toward the forbidden wing. Back to where I'd last seen Selene dragging my sister away.

Two more guards fell in behind us—Fergus's personal security. Always present. Always watching.

When we reached the spot, I pointed down the corridor. "There. She took him that way. Toward—I don't know. I don't know this part of the fortress."

He turned to me. Studied my face with an intensity that made me want to look away.

"This fortress is vast," he said. "Interconnected corridors. Secret passages. If Selene doesn't want to be found, we could search for hours and never locate her."

My heart sank. "Then—then we can't—"

"I didn't say we can't find them," Fergus interrupted. "I said it would take too long to search normally." He took a step closer. "But Lycans hunt by scent. If I can catch your brother's scent, I can track him anywhere in this fortress."

Hope flared again. "Then—then do it! Please! Find his scent and—"

Fergus stared down the empty hallway. His jaw worked. Calculating.

"I don't know what your brother smells like," Fergus said. His voice was patient. Almost gentle. "I've barely been near him. And even if I had, there are hundreds of slaves in this fortress. Their scents all blend together unless I've specifically marked one as important."

My mind raced desperately. "Then—then find something of his! His clothes or—or maybe in the King's Den there's—"

"No time," Fergus cut me off. "And besides, his scent in that chamber would be contaminated by the King's. Overlaid. Impossible to isolate."

Despair started to crush me. "Then how—"

And then—a thought struck me. A desperate idea.

"Me," I blurted out. "Smell me."

Fergus blinked. "What?"

"My brother and I—we used to be always together," I said quickly. The words tumbling out in a rush.

I stepped closer to him. Urgency overriding any embarrassment.

I held out my arms. "His scent must be all over me."

Fergus stared at me. Something flickered in his ice-blue eyes.

"Please," I begged. "You said Lycans hunt by scent. So use me. Smell me. Find Nathan's scent on me and use it to track him."

"That's..." He paused. Seemed to be wrestling with something. "That could work."

Fergus studied me for a long moment. Then nodded.

"Don't move," he commanded.

He stepped close. So close I could feel the heat radiating from his body.

Then he leaned down. Brought his face to my neck.

And inhaled.

Deeply. Slowly. Drawing my scent into his lungs.

I froze. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't think.

His nose brushed against my skin. Not quite touching. But close enough that I felt the warmth of his breath.

He moved slightly. Scenting along my collarbone. Behind my ear. Down the curve where neck met shoulder.

"Hold still," he murmured when I started to tremble.

His hands came up. Gripped my upper arms. Steadying me.

And he continued scenting. Methodical. Thorough.

He moved lower. His face near my chest. Breathing in the scent caught in the fabric of my dress.

I felt my face burn with embarrassment. This was—this was—

"Give me your hand," Fergus said.

Numbly, I extended my hand.

He took it in both of his. Brought my palm to his face. Inhaled deeply.

Then turned my hand over and scented my wrist. The inside of my elbow.

Throughout it all, his expression remained focused. Clinical. Like I was a puzzle he was solving rather than a woman he was—

*What is he doing? What is this?*

But I knew what it was. Tracking. Hunting.

Preparing to find my sister by following the faint traces of her scent that clung to me.

Finally—after what felt like an eternity but was probably only a minute—Fergus stepped back.

His eyes were slightly unfocused. His pupils dilated.

"I have it," he said. His voice was rougher than before. "Your brother's scent. It's—" He paused. "—distinctive."

Something in his tone made me look at him more closely. His jaw was clenched. His breathing slightly elevated.

*Is he—affected by this? By me?*

But that was impossible. He was a Lycan lord. I was a human slave. He'd made his disdain for my kind abundantly clear.

"Can you track him?" I asked.

Fergus blinked. Seemed to shake himself slightly.

"Yes," he said. "The scent is faint. But it's there. Mixed with yours. I can follow it."

Fergus started walking. Not running. But moving with purposeful speed.

"Stay close," he ordered without looking back.

I hurried after him. My heart pounding with hope and terror.

*We're coming, Natasha. Hold on. Just hold on a little longer.*