Vanished Sisters: The Lycan King's Slave Island Chapter 128

Davelina's POV

I woke to weight and warmth pressing against my back, a solid presence that shouldn't have been there. Even before I opened my eyes, before conscious thought fully returned, some instinctive part of me knew who it was—recognized the scent of him, and something darker, something that made my body respond in ways I'd tried desperately to ignore.

Fergus.

My body reacted before my mind could catch up, a flush of heat spreading through my limbs like liquid fire, my pulse quickening, arousal pooling low in my belly despite the fear that immediately followed. I could feel him against me, the hard planes of his chest pressed to my back, the thick ridge of his cock already hard and insistent against the curve of my ass through the thin fabric of my nightgown. The realization sent another wave of heat through me, made my thighs clench involuntarily.

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry, and slowly turned my head to look at him.

He was awake, those eyes fixed on me with an intensity that made my breath catch and my nipples tighten into hard peaks beneath my nightgown. His expression was difficult to read in the dim moonlight filtering through the window, but I could see anger there, simmering beneath the surface as it always seemed to. Yet this time, there was something else too. Something that looked like exhaustion, though not the physical kind. It was deeper than that, a weariness that seemed to emanate from somewhere inside him, a burden he'd been carrying for far too long.

"Davelina," he said, my name emerging as a low growl that sent shivers down my spine and made my pussy clench around nothing, already growing wet.

I should have been terrified. I should have been scrambling away, should have been screaming for help or at least demanding to know what he was doing in my bed. But instead, I found myself frozen, caught between fear and something else I didn't want to examine too closely—a hunger that had been growing inside me for weeks, fed by every brutal encounter, every moment of his attention.

The truth was, I'd been thinking about him constantly these days. Ever since he'd come for us at Sebastian's estate, I hadn't been able to get him out of my head. I'd touched myself in the darkness, my fingers working between my legs while I bit my lip to stay silent, imagining his hands on me, his cock inside me, his voice in my ear telling me I belonged to him.

It was madness. He was a Lycan lord, one of the most powerful beings on these cursed islands. I was a human slave, property, worth less than the rats in the dungeons. There could be nothing between us except the brutal dynamic of master and possession.

And yet, lying here with his body pressed against mine, feeling the heat radiating from him and the insistent pressure of his erection against my ass, I couldn't deny the pull I felt, the inexplicable attraction that had been growing despite every logical reason to fear and hate him.

"You smell good," he muttered, his voice rough and low, his face moving closer to my neck. I felt his nose trail along the curve where my shoulder met my throat, felt him inhale deeply.

The words made no sense, but the way he said them—with frustration and hunger and something almost like desperation—made my pussy throb with need. I could feel myself getting wetter, could feel the slickness beginning to coat my inner thighs.

I opened my mouth to respond, to say something—anything—but he cut me off before I could form words.

"Don't," he said, his voice muffled against my neck, his breath hot against my skin, making me shiver. "Don't speak."

He pulled back slightly, and I felt him moving, heard the rustle of fabric as he removed his robe. Then his hands were on me, gripping the thin nightgown I wore, and with one sharp movement accompanied by the sound of tearing cloth and the snick of extending claws, he'd stripped it away, leaving me naked and exposed beneath him.

His gaze traveled over my bare body with an intensity that made me feel like I was burning, like his eyes alone could set my skin aflame. I could see his pupils dilate as he took in the sight of me—my breasts with their hardened nipples, the curve of my waist, the flare of my hips, and finally, inevitably, the glistening evidence of my arousal between my spread thighs.

I could feel myself responding despite my fear, despite knowing this was wrong, despite everything. My body was betraying me completely—my nipples were so hard they ached, my pussy was clenching and releasing rhythmically, and I could feel how wet I was, could feel my arousal literally dripping from me onto the sheets beneath.

A small, shameful whimper escaped my throat as I realized he could see everything—could see exactly how my body was reacting to his presence, to his touch, to the promise of what was about to happen. There was no hiding it, no pretending I didn't want this on some primal, instinctive level.

His eyes darkened as he took in the evidence of my arousal, and when he spoke, his voice was low and rough, stripped of its usual harsh edge but no less commanding. "Look at you," he said quietly, one hand reaching down to trail through the wetness coating my inner thighs, making me gasp and arch involuntarily. "Your body knows what it wants, even if you won't admit it. You're dripping for me, aren't you? Your cunt is begging to be filled."

The crude words should have felt like an insult, should have made me angry or ashamed. Instead, they sent another wave of heat through me, made the ache between my legs intensify until I had to bite my lip to keep from making another sound, from begging him to touch me properly, to give me what my body was screaming for.

I turned my head to the side, squeezing my eyes shut, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze any longer, unable to face what I was becoming under his attention.

His body covered mine completely, his weight pressing me into the mattress in a way that should have felt suffocating but instead felt grounding, anchoring. His hands gripped my thighs, spreading them apart roughly, exposing me completely. I felt him position himself at my entrance, the broad head of his cock pressing against my opening, and even through my arousal I could feel how big he was, how much it was going to hurt when he pushed inside.

He tested my entrance once, the blunt pressure making me whimper, then twice, coating himself in my wetness, and then—

He pushed inside with one brutal thrust that buried him halfway.