Vanished Sisters: The Lycan King's Slave Island Chapter 205

Mordred's POV

I stared at the young woman, feeling a strange sense of recognition. I'd seen her before—recently, in fact. During Fergus's poisoning incident. She'd been there, tending to him, and I'd thought it odd at the time that he'd refused to let anyone else near him except this one human slave.

But I'd been too focused on saving Fergus's life to question it then.

"Davelina," I repeated, the name unfamiliar on my tongue. "You were there. When Fergus was poisoned."

She nodded, her hands trembling at her sides.

"Natasha's sister," Fergus added quietly.

The words hit me like a physical blow.

"What?" I took a step forward, and Davelina immediately stepped back, her eyes wide with fear. "Natasha's sister? But—"

My mind raced back through fragmented memories of my madness. That night of darkness and blood and screaming.

"During my madness," I said slowly, my voice rough. "You were there once. I remember now."

"Yes," Davelina whispered.

I took a step forward, and Davelina immediately stepped back, her eyes wide. Fergus moved between us instinctively, his body angling to protect her.

"Her sister," I repeated, my voice barely above a whisper. "But I thought—during my madness, I thought I'd—"

"You did," Davelina said suddenly, her voice shaking but clear. "That first night. In your den. You raped me."

The room tilted.

I gripped the edge of the desk, my claws extending involuntarily, digging into the wood. Images flashed through my mind—a girl's screams, the taste of blood, the feeling of flesh tearing beneath my hands. But they were shadows, fragments, nothing solid enough to hold onto.

"I don't remember," I said, and the words felt like an admission of guilt rather than a defense. "Christ, I don't remember any of it."

"Of course you don't," Davelina said, and there was something bitter in her voice now. "You were the beast. You took what you wanted and left me bleeding on the floor."

"Davelina—" Fergus said quietly, his hand finding her shoulder.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "He should know. He should know what he did."

She looked at me directly for the first time, and I saw the fear in her eyes mixed with something harder. Anger. Determination.

"You raped me for hours," she said, her voice steady now despite the tears streaming down her face. "Over and over. And when you were done, you just... left. Like I was nothing. Like I was trash."

I felt sick. My stomach churned, bile rising in my throat.

"I'm sorry," I said, but the words were pathetically inadequate. "God, I'm so sorry. I didn't—I wasn't—"

"You weren't yourself," Davelina finished. "I know. Lord Fergus explained it to me. The madness. The beast. How you couldn't control it."

She wiped her eyes roughly with the back of her hand.

"But it doesn't change what happened," she said quietly. "It doesn't change what you did to me."

"No," I agreed, my voice hoarse. "It doesn't."

Silence fell over the room, heavy and suffocating.

"After you regained your sanity," Fergus said finally, "I brought both sisters to Ashclaw. Kept them safe. Hidden."

"Both of them?" I looked up sharply. "Natasha was at Ashclaw?"

"For three months," Fergus confirmed. "Before Caelan requested her as his companion. I kept them together, kept them safe, and made sure no one knew who they really were."

"Why?" I asked, though part of me already knew. Already suspected from the way Fergus stood so close to Davelina, from the protective angle of his body, from the way his hand rested on her shoulder like it belonged there.

Fergus met my eyes, and I saw something in his expression that made my chest tighten. The same desperate, helpless look I'd seen in my own reflection when I thought about Natasha.

"Because she's my mate," he said quietly.

The words hung in the air between us.

I stared at him, waiting for the punchline, for him to laugh and say he was joking. But his expression remained serious, almost defiant.

"Your mate," I repeated slowly.

"Yes."

"Davelina. Natasha's sister. Is your mate."

"Yes."

I looked at Fergus, understanding beginning to dawn. "That's why you kept her close during the poisoning. That's why you wouldn't let anyone else treat you."

I let out a breath that turned into a laugh—harsh and disbelieving. "What are the fucking odds?" I said, running my hands through my hair. "What are the goddamn odds that both of us—the King and his closest advisor—would both have human mates? And not just any humans, but sisters?"

"I don't know," Fergus said.

"Sisters!" I repeated, the absurdity of it hitting me again. "We're both mated to the two human sisters. Do you have any idea how insane that sounds?"

"I'm aware," Fergus said dryly.

I sank into the chair behind the desk, my legs suddenly unsteady. My mind was racing, trying to process the implications, trying to understand what this meant.

"When did you know?" I asked finally. "When did you realize she was your mate?"

Fergus was quiet for a moment, his hand still resting on Davelina's shoulder.

"I suspected from the beginning," he admitted. "When she was still at Howling Citadel, before you regained your sanity. There were... interactions between us. Moments when I felt something I couldn't explain."

His jaw clenched slightly.

"We were intimate," he continued, his voice dropping lower. "Several times. She even used some kind of charm on me once—I don't think she realized what she was doing, but it affected me more than it should have. Made me want her in ways that went beyond simple desire."

Davelina's cheeks flushed, but she didn't look away from him.

"But I wasn't certain about the mate bond," Fergus continued. "Not then. It felt like attraction, like lust, but I couldn't be sure if it was something more. So when you regained your sanity, I brought both sisters to Ashclaw. Told myself it was to keep them safe, to protect them from what might happen if anyone discovered they'd survived."

"But really you were protecting yourself," I said, understanding.

"Yes," Fergus admitted. "I was trying to keep distance between us. Trying to convince myself that what I felt was just physical attraction, nothing more."

"How long did that last?"

"Three months," Fergus said. "Three months of staying away, of throwing myself into helping you recover, of telling myself I could forget about her. But I couldn't stop thinking about her. Every day, every night. Her scent, her voice, the way she'd looked at me. It was driving me mad."

He paused, his hand tightening on Davelina's shoulder.

"So I went to the New Year's feast," he continued. "Told myself I just needed to see her, to make sure she was well. But the moment I caught her scent in the crowd..."

He trailed off, his eyes closing briefly.

"I lost control," he said quietly. "Completely. My wolf took over. I tracked her into the gardens, found her walking with another man, and I—"

"You went feral," I finished.