Vanished Sisters: The Lycan King's Slave Island Chapter 81

Davelina's POV

Inside was a small bathing chamber. A large wooden tub sat in the center, already filled with water. But it wasn't steaming yet—the water looked lukewarm at best.

Madam Victoria followed me into the room, carrying a large kettle. Steam rose from its spout.

"The water needs to be heated," she explained, pouring the hot water into the tub. "I'll need to make several trips. You can start removing your dress while I prepare."

She left to fetch more hot water, and I began the painful process of peeling the dress away from my wounds.

When Victoria returned with another kettle, I asked hesitantly, "Does... does Lord Fergus live here? In Howling Fortress?"

Victoria poured the second kettle into the tub, testing the temperature with her hand.

"Not permanently," she said. "Lord Fergus has his own territory—the northern islands, covered in forests. Ashclaw Castle is his true home."

She went to fetch another kettle.

"But since the King's... condition worsened," she continued when she returned, "Lord Fergus has maintained chambers here. Someone needs to handle the things the King can no longer manage."

She poured the third kettle, and steam began rising properly from the tub now.

"So he's essentially ruling in the King's place?" I asked.

Victoria's expression became carefully neutral. "Lord Fergus would never claim such a thing. He is merely... assisting. Temporarily. Until the King recovers."

*If he recovers,* I thought but didn't say aloud.

Victoria tested the water again. "This should be adequate now. Take your time bathing. I'll wait outside."

She left, closing the door behind her.

The fabric stuck to my wounds, making me hiss with pain as I pulled it away.

When I was finally naked, I caught sight of myself in a small mirror hanging on the wall.

*Oh God.*

My entire back was a mess of welts and cuts. Blood had dried in dark streaks. Bruises were forming—purple and yellow splotches across my pale skin.

My breasts were marked with bite marks and finger-shaped bruises. My thighs bore scratches from rough handling.

And between my legs... I was swollen. Sore. The aftermath of being fucked by too many men in too short a time.

*I look like a whore who's been beaten by her customers.*

*That's essentially what I am now, isn't it?*

I turned away from the mirror and approached the tub. The water was hot—almost too hot—but I didn't care. I needed to be clean. Needed to wash away the dried cum and blood that still covered me.

I lowered myself into the water slowly, biting my lip to keep from crying out as the heat touched my wounds. It burned. But after the initial shock, the warmth began to soothe.

I sank down until the water covered me to my neck. Closed my eyes and let out a shaky breath.

*This is the first moment of peace I've had in... how long? Days? Weeks?*

I stayed like that for several minutes, just floating. Trying not to think about what was waiting for me after the bath.

*Fergus. I used my magic on Fergus today.*

The thought was both exhilarating and terrifying.

*If I have that kind of power... maybe I can use it. Maybe I can protect myself. Protect Natasha.*

*Or maybe it'll get me killed.*

I forced myself to start washing. Found soap and a cloth on the bench beside the tub. Began scrubbing away the filth.

The water quickly turned pink, then red, as blood and cum washed off my skin. I had to drain and refill the tub twice before I was truly clean.

When I finally emerged, my skin was pink and tender but clean. I dried off carefully, then wrapped myself in a robe that had been left on the bench.

There was a knock at the door.

"Are you finished?" Victoria called.

"Yes," I said.

"Then come out. It's time."

I opened the door and stepped back into the sitting room.

Victoria looked me over appraisingly. "Better," she said. "Much better."

She walked to another door—presumably leading to Fergus's private chambers—and knocked.

"Enter," Fergus's voice rumbled from within.

Victoria opened the door. "The girl is here, my lord. As you requested."

"Send her in."

Victoria gestured for me to go forward. I hesitated, my heart hammering.

"Go on," Victoria said quietly. "Don't keep him waiting."

I stepped through the doorway. Heard it close behind me with a soft click.

Fergus's private chamber was larger than I'd expected. A massive four-poster bed dominated one wall. A fireplace provided warmth and light. And in the center of the room was a large desk covered in papers and scrolls.

Fergus sat at the desk, his back to me, reading through documents. He didn't turn around when I entered.

*What do I do? Should I say something? Announce myself?*

I stood there uncertainly, waiting.

The silence stretched. Became uncomfortable.

I studied him while I waited. Even sitting, he was massive. His shoulders were broad enough that they strained against the fabric of his shirt. His dark hair was shot through with silver, pulled back from his face.

*He's old,* I realized. *Much older than Sebastian. Centuries old, probably.*

*And powerful. So much more powerful than Sebastian or any of the other Lycans I've encountered.*

Just being in the same room as him made my skin prickle with awareness of the danger I was in.

But there was something else too. Something I didn't expect.

*He's... attractive.*

I'd never really looked at him before. During the games, I'd been too focused on surviving to pay attention. But now, studying him in the firelight, I could see the harsh beauty of his features. The strong line of his jaw. The way firelight played across his muscled arms.

*What's wrong with me? Why am I thinking about how attractive he is?*

And then I felt it. A warmth spreading through my lower belly. A tingling between my legs.

*No. No, not now.*

But my body wasn't listening. The warmth intensified. Became heat. Became need.

My nipples hardened beneath the thin robe. I could feel wetness beginning to gather between my thighs.

*What the hell is happening? Why am I—*

"Remove your robe."

Fergus's voice cut through my confusion. He still hadn't turned around. Was still focused on his papers.

"Wh-what?" I stammered.

"I said remove your robe." His tone was cold. Commanding. "And kneel."

*Oh God.*

My hands trembled as I reached for the ties of the robe. Part of me wanted to refuse. To run. But a larger part—the part that understood survival—knew I had no choice.

I untied the robe and let it fall to the floor.