Vanished Sisters: The Lycan King's Slave Island Chapter 45

Lucy's POV

Roderic's expression darkened. "Don't ask questions about things that don't concern you."

"But—"

"Don't." His hand moved from my shoulder to my throat—not squeezing, just resting there. A reminder. "You're not entitled to know where I go or what I do. You're entitled to nothing except what I choose to give you."

I bit my tongue and nodded.

He studied me for another moment, then sighed and released my throat.

"Fine. You want to know? We were on the mainland. Raiding a coastal village north of Dover." His voice was flat. Matter-of-fact. "Brought back three females. Young ones. Pretty."

My stomach turned.

Three more girls stolen from their homes. Three more lives destroyed.

"And the males?" I asked quietly.

"Five of them. Laborers, mostly. Strong backs for the mines." He rolled his shoulder, and I noticed him wince slightly. "Would have been six, but one of the humans had a rifle. Bastard shot me in the shoulder before I could get to him."

I looked at his shoulder—the one he'd been favoring. There was a tear in his shirt, and beneath it, I could see the edge of a bandage stained with dried blood.

"Are you hurt badly?"

Roderic laughed—a genuine sound this time, though there was no warmth in it. "Concerned for me? How touching."

"Forget what I said." I said stiffly.

"Is it?" He leaned in close, his breath hot against my ear. "Or are you just worried that if I'm too injured to fuck you, someone else will take my place? Someone who might not be as... gentle?"

Gentle. He thinks he's gentle.

If this is gentle, I don't want to know what cruel looks like.

"What happened to the man who shot you?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

"What do you think?" Roderic's smile was cold. "I tore out his throat. Then I skinned him. Broke every bone in his body one by one. Left what was left of him for the crows."

He said it so casually. Like he was describing what he'd had for breakfast.

"And while I was doing that," he continued, his voice dropping to a dangerous purr, "all I could think about was getting back here. Getting back to you. To your warm cunt and those perfect tits and the way you whimper when I hurt you just right."

His hand moved from my throat down to my breast, cupping it roughly through my dress.

I froze.

"Did you miss me?" he asked, his fingers digging into my flesh. "Did you touch yourself while I was gone? Imagine it was my cock inside you?"

"I—"

"Don't lie." He squeezed harder, and I couldn't stop the small gasp of pain. "I can smell it on you. That fear. That arousal. Your body knows who it belongs to even if your mind tries to pretend otherwise."

He's wrong. I don't want this. I never wanted this.

But my body doesn't care what I want. It responds anyway. Traitor flesh.

"Roderic—" I started.

"Strip." The word was a command, not a request.

My heart hammered against my ribs. "What?"

"You heard me." His hand released my breast and moved to the laces of my dress, starting to undo them with practiced efficiency. "Take off your clothes. Now."

"Here?" I looked around the armory—at the racks of weapons, the open door, the fact that anyone could walk by. "But someone might—"

"I don't care." His fingers worked faster, pulling the laces free. "You belong to me. I can fuck you wherever and whenever I want. If someone sees—" He shrugged. "They'll know to keep their hands off what's mine."

"Please—" My voice cracked. "Please, not here. Not where people can—"

His hand shot out and grabbed my throat again. This time he did squeeze.

Not hard enough to cut off my air completely. Just hard enough to make breathing difficult. To make panic flood through my system.

He leaned in until we were nose to nose.

"Don't." His voice was soft. Deadly. "Make. Me. Repeat. Myself."

Each word was punctuated by a slight increase in pressure on my throat.

"Do you understand?" he continued. "If I have to tell you again, you won't like the consequences. I promise you that."

I nodded frantically, my hands coming up to clutch at his wrist.

He held the pressure for another few seconds—long enough for black spots to dance across my vision—then released me.

I gasped, stumbling back, my hands flying to my throat.

"Good girl," he said, his tone almost affectionate now. "Now. Strip. Or I'll do it for you, and I won't be gentle."

My hands shook as I reached for the hem of my dress.

This is survival. Just survival. Do what he says and it'll be over faster.

Don't think. Don't feel. Just obey.

I pulled the dress over my head with trembling fingers, letting it fall to the floor. Beneath it, I wore only a thin chemise—barely more than a slip of fabric that ended mid-thigh.

"All of it," Roderic said, his eyes roaming over my body with obvious hunger.

I hesitated for just a moment—one final, futile rebellion—then reached for the hem of the chemise.

*Please don't let anyone walk in. Please. Please.*

The chemise joined the dress on the floor.

I stood naked before him, arms instinctively moving to cover myself. My breasts. My sex. Whatever small protection I could maintain.

Roderic's eyes blazed as he looked at me.

"Hands at your sides," he ordered.

I lowered my arms slowly, exposing myself completely to his gaze.

He circled me like a predator examining prey, his eyes taking in every inch of my body. Every curve. Every scar he'd left on my skin over the past six months.

When he came back around to face me, he was smiling.