Vanished Sisters: The Lycan King's Slave Island Chapter 191

Davelina's POV

We laid Fergus on his bed, and I immediately began checking him for injuries. There were claw marks across his chest and shoulders—Mordred's doing—but they were already beginning to heal.

The physician arrived within minutes, an elderly Lycan with sharp eyes and steady hands. He examined Fergus thoroughly, taking samples of his blood, checking his pulse, looking into his eyes.

Finally, he straightened up, his expression grave. "I've never seen anything like this. The poison is still in his system, but it's unlike any toxin I'm familiar with. It's... sophisticated. Designed specifically to target Lycan physiology."

"Can you cure it?" Mordred demanded.

The physician shook his head slowly. "I don't know. I'll need time to analyze it, to develop an antidote. But in the meantime..." He looked at Fergus with concern. "The poison could resurge at any moment. He could lose control again."

"How long do we have?" Fergus asked, his voice strained.

"Hours. Maybe days. There's no way to know."

Mordred cursed under his breath. "This is exactly what Sebastian wanted. To incapacitate my strongest ally right when I need him most."

"We should leave," Gregor said from the doorway. "Give Lord Fergus time to rest."

Fergus raised a hand weakly. "Wait. Your Majesty, Lord Gregor... I need to speak with Davelina. Alone. Please."

Mordred and Gregor exchanged glances.

"Are you sure that's wise?" Mordred asked. "If you lose control again—"

"I won't hurt her," Fergus said with absolute certainty. "I couldn't. Even in my madness, I couldn't."

After a long moment, Mordred nodded. "Very well. But we'll be right outside. If anything happens—"

"I'll scream," I said. "I promise."

They left, though I could sense their reluctance. The physician followed, promising to return with medicines that might help ease Fergus's symptoms.

Finally, we were alone.

Fergus looked at me, and I saw such vulnerability in his eyes that it made my heart ache. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry you had to see me like that."

"Don't," I said, sitting on the edge of the bed and taking his hand. "Don't apologize. None of this is your fault."

"I could have killed you. I almost did."

"But you didn't. You fought it. You came back to me." I squeezed his hand. "That's what matters."

He was quiet for a long moment, then said, "Davelina, I need to ask you something. Something... strange."

"What is it?"

He took a deep breath, and I saw color rise in his cheeks. "I don't know if this poison will resurge. The physician said it could happen at any time. But I think... I think I know something that might help."

"What?"

He looked away, clearly embarrassed. "Your milk. Your breast milk. I think it could cure me. Or at least counteract the poison."

I stared at him, not sure I'd heard correctly.

"I know it sounds insane," he said quickly. "But remember when I was poisoned before? With the wolf's bane? Your milk helped then. It neutralized the toxin, gave my body the strength to fight it off."

I did remember. That night felt like a lifetime ago now, though it had only been weeks.

"This poison is different," Fergus continued. "More potent. But I can feel it in my veins, burning. And I think... I think your milk might be the only thing that can help."

He finally looked at me, and I saw desperation in his eyes. "I know it's a lot to ask. I know how inappropriate it is for a grown man to request a woman's breast milk. Even though we've... we've done this before. But Davelina, please. I don't want to lose control again. I don't want to hurt anyone else. I don't want to hurt you."

My heart was pounding, and I felt heat spreading through my body. The memory of the last time—of him suckling at my breast, of the intimacy and strange eroticism of it—flooded my mind.

"Of course," I whispered. "Of course I'll help you."

Relief washed over his face.

I stood and began unlacing my dress with trembling fingers. Fergus watched me, his eyes dark with something that wasn't quite hunger but wasn't far from it either.

The dress fell away, leaving me in just my thin chemise. I could see my nipples hardening beneath the fabric, could feel the familiar tingling sensation that meant my milk was letting down.

I pulled the chemise over my head, baring my breasts to him. They were heavy and full, the nipples dark and tight. A small bead of milk appeared at the tip of one.

Fergus's breathing quickened. "Come here," he said hoarsely.

I climbed onto the bed beside him, and he shifted to make room. His body was still hot with fever, still trembling slightly with the aftereffects of the poison.

"How do you want to...?" I trailed off, unsure.

"Lie down," he said. "Let me..."

I lay back against the pillows, and Fergus moved over me, positioning himself so his mouth was level with my breast. For a moment, he just looked at me, his eyes roaming over my exposed flesh with undisguised desire.

Then his mouth closed over my nipple, and I gasped.

The sensation was immediate and intense. His lips were hot, his tongue rough as it laved over the sensitive bud. He sucked gently at first, coaxing the milk to flow.

When the first drops hit his tongue, he groaned—a deep, primal sound that sent shivers down my spine.

He began to suckle in earnest, his mouth working rhythmically, drawing the milk from my breast in long, steady pulls. I felt each tug deep in my core, felt my body responding with a rush of heat and wetness.

My hands came up to cradle his head, fingers threading through his hair. "Does it help?" I whispered. "Can you feel it working?"