Vanished Sisters: The Lycan King's Slave Island Chapter 182

Davelina's POV

Natasha was lying naked on the bed, positioned on top of a thick towel. Identical towels were stacked nearby—I counted at least a dozen of them—but my attention quickly returned to my sister.

She was curled in a fetal position, her back to me, making small sounds of distress. She didn't react to the sound of the door opening.

"Natasha..." I breathed, moving closer.

She flinched violently at my voice, slowly uncurling her body to face me. Her eyes opened to slits. "Davelina?"

"It's me," I said, emotion making my throat tight. I moved to embrace her, but stopped when she whimpered.

"Don't touch me," she gasped. "It hurts. Everything hurts."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I said quickly, pulling back but remaining close, my face etched with concern. "How are you feeling? You look ill."

"Just tired," she said, though her expression told me it was much worse than that.

As I watched, she shifted slightly, parting her legs with a long, pained moan. A thick stream of white fluid began to leak from between her thighs, pooling onto the towel beneath her.

My cheeks burned with embarrassment and shock. Oh.

Was that why her belly looked swollen, distended like a woman in early pregnancy?

Finally, the flow seemed to slow, and Natasha collapsed back against the bed, the towel beneath her completely soaked through.

Concern overrode my embarrassment. "Is this... is this normal?"

Natasha nodded weakly.

"Do you need me to change the towel?"

"Not yet," she whispered, her breathing shallow.

I rose quickly, hurrying to pour water from a nearby pitcher and grab a clean cloth. Returning to her side, I dampened the fabric and began to gently clean her.

Her skin was burning hot to the touch, and I was careful to avoid direct contact, ensuring only the washcloth touched her body.

I started with her face, gently wiping away the sweat and tears, then moved down to her neck and shoulders. Her body was covered in marks—bruises in the shape of fingers on her hips, her thighs, her breasts. Bite marks dotted her neck and shoulders, some of them deep enough that they'd broken the skin.

My throat tightened as I took in the evidence of what she'd endured. This was what mating during a heat looked like. This was the price of that desperate pleasure.

I moved the cloth lower, carefully cleaning her arms, her chest. Her breasts were swollen and tender-looking, the nipples reddened and chafed. More bite marks surrounded them, and I could see the faint outline of teeth marks on the soft flesh.

Natasha stirred restlessly, mumbling something incoherent.

"What did you say?" I leaned closer, trying to make out her words.

"I want him," she sobbed, a tear sliding down her cheek. "My beloved. I want him here."

My heart ached at the longing in her voice. "He's occupied now, sister," I lied softly, hoping to comfort her. "I'm sure if he could be here, he would be."

She nodded, then made another pained sound as more fluid leaked from between her legs. I quickly replaced the soaked towel with a fresh one.

I continued my gentle ministrations, cleaning her stomach—noting again how swollen it was, distended with what must have been an enormous amount of cum—and then moving lower.

Her inner thighs were sticky with dried fluids, and I cleaned them as gently as I could. But when I reached the apex of her thighs, I couldn't help but stare.

Her sex was swollen and reddened, the lips puffy and gaping slightly. I could see inside her, could see the pinkness of her inner walls, could see more white fluid slowly seeping out.

The opening itself looked stretched, larger than it should be, as though it had been forced to accommodate something much too big. The skin around it was irritated and raw-looking, marked with small tears that had already begun to heal but still looked painful.

My face burned with embarrassment at seeing my sister in such an intimate state, but I forced myself to continue cleaning her, knowing she needed the care.

Finally, satisfied that I'd done what I could, I pulled the sheet up to cover her. Her breathing had evened out, and I realized she'd fallen asleep.

The door opened quietly, and Caelan stepped inside. "How is she?" he asked in a low voice.

"She just fell asleep," I whispered, tucking the sheet more securely around her. I wiped away a tear that had escaped down my cheek and looked at him with concern. "Is it always like this?"

He nodded gravely. "Sometimes worse, sometimes better. This is the nature of heat. She will recover. Try not to worry too much."

"But why is it like this?" I asked, needing to understand.

He paused at the foot of the bed, considering his words carefully. "During heat, a female experiences extreme desire and unusual endurance to withstand continuous mating for days on end. It's something that would be completely impossible outside of heat. During that time, she doesn't feel any pain because of the intense arousal—it's like being injected with a powerful drug. But now the drug is wearing off, and her body is feeling all the damage that was done."

"Beloved..." Natasha murmured in her sleep, shifting restlessly, her face contorting with some dream.

I hesitated, a different fear creeping in. "About the King... he spent two days with her. Do you think he realized that she's... that she's his mate?"

Caelan sighed heavily. "I don't know, child. I hope not. The King will be occupied for some time—there's been unrest in Lord Sebastian's territory. There are rumors he may be plotting to seize power. The point is, His Majesty will be very busy in the coming weeks."