Vanished Sisters: The Lycan King's Slave Island Chapter 92

Natasha's POV

*What's wrong with me? Why am I even considering—*

*Because you need it,* a voice in my head whispered. *Because your body is screaming for cock and they're right there and they'd be so willing—*

"NO," I hissed through clenched teeth.

I couldn't. Wouldn't. Even in this state, even with the need tearing me apart from the inside, I couldn't just—just prostitute myself to random guards.

The footsteps were getting closer. They were tracking my scent, following it straight to me.

I forced my trembling legs to move. Pushed off the wall and stumbled deeper into the fortress, one hand pressed against my cramping abdomen.

Every step was agony. Every movement sent shocks of need through my oversensitized body. The wetness between my legs was running down my thighs now, so much of it that I was leaving a trail.

*They're going to follow it. Going to find me. And when they do—*

I couldn't think about that. Could only focus on moving. On putting distance between myself and the guards.

The fortress interior was dark and maze-like. I turned down corridor after corridor, no longer sure where I was going. Just away. Away from the guards. Away from temptation.

But the heat was getting worse. So much worse.

My vision was starting to blur. My thoughts fragmenting. The pain and need consuming everything else.

*I can't—I can't do this. Can't fight it anymore. Need—need—*

I stumbled and nearly fell. Caught myself against the wall, gasping.

My hand was between my legs again without me consciously deciding to put it there. Rubbing frantically through my trousers, trying desperately to ease the ache.

But it wasn't working. Nothing was working.

*I need a cock. A real cock. Inside me. Fucking me. Making this stop.*

But whose?

The guards were still following. I could hear their footsteps echoing through the corridors behind me. Hear their rough voices as they tracked my scent.

*Should I just—just let them catch me? Let them take me? Use me? Would that be so bad?*

*Yes!* my rational mind screamed. *Yes, it would be terrible. They'd rape you. Hurt you. Maybe kill you afterward. You can't—*

But my body didn't care about logic or safety. My body only cared about one thing.

I stumbled forward again, my legs barely able to support me. Turned another corner.

And stopped.

I was in a part of the fortress I recognized. The upper levels. Where the King's chambers were.

Where the King's Den was.

*No. No, not there. Anywhere but there.*

But my feet were already moving. Carrying me down the familiar corridor. Toward the heavy iron door that led to the King's private domain.

*His cock. The King's massive cock. It could—it would—*

*It would kill you,* my rational mind insisted. *You barely survived last time. And you were terrified. It was horrible. You can't—*

But last time I had survived. My body had taken him. Had stretched around his enormous cock and lived.

*And God, the size of him. The way he filled me so completely. The way he—*

I shook my head violently, trying to clear it.

*I can't be thinking about this. Can't be considering—*

Behind me, the guards were getting closer. I could hear them clearly now.

"The scent is stronger here," one said. "She came this way. Fuck, I can almost taste her on the air. My cock is so fucking hard—"

"Mine too," the other growled. "When we find her, I'm going first. Going to mount her right here in the corridor."

*Oh God. Oh fuck.*

I couldn't let them catch me. Couldn't let them—

My hand touched the cold iron of the King's door.

And that's when I heard it.

A voice. Deep and dark and impossibly seductive. Speaking directly into my mind.

*Come in,* it said. *Let me help you.*

I froze, my hand on the door handle.

*What the fuck?*

"Who—" I whispered. "Who's there?"

*You know who I am,* the voice replied. Amused. Patient. *Come inside. Let me ease your pain.*

*Mordred?*

The Lycan King. Speaking in my head. How was that even possible?

*You're in heat,* his voice continued, as smooth and dark as velvet. *Your body is crying out for relief. For what only I can give you.*

*I'll die,* I thought. *His cock is too big. It'll tear me apart.*

*But I survived before, I'll survive again. I'm an Endurer.*

A particularly brutal cramp hit me. I cried out, doubling over, my forehead pressed against the cold iron door.

*Come inside,* Mordred's voice urged. Seductive. Compelling.

"No," I gasped.

Behind me, the footsteps were very close now. Just around the corner.

My hand tightened on the door handle.

This was insane. Absolutely fucking insane.

The King was a monster. A beast. He'd raped me. Brutalized me. Nearly killed me.

But he was also—

*—also the one from my dreams. The one who apologized. Who seemed almost... protective.*

And right now, faced with the choice between him and the approaching guards—

I pushed the door open and stumbled inside.

The King's Den was dark except for the faint glow of embers in a fireplace.

I closed the door behind me and leaned against it, gasping.

*I'm here. I'm actually here. What the fuck am I doing?*

Another cramp hit—the worst one yet. I cried out and slid down the door to my knees, both hands pressed against my cramping abdomen.

The need was so intense now I could barely breathe. Barely think. Could only feel the desperate, all-consuming hunger for—

For the cock that could fill me. Satisfy me. Make this unbearable ache finally stop.

"Please," I whimpered into the darkness. "Please, I can't—I need—"

A shape moved in the shadows ahead of me.

Large. Massive.

The Wolf King stepped into the dim light cast by the dying embers.

He was in his full Lycan form—seven feet of muscle and fur and raw, predatory power. His amber eyes glowed in the darkness, fixed on me with an intensity that made my already racing heart pound even harder.

And between his legs—

*Oh God.*

His cock was already erect. Massive and thick and glistening with pre-cum. At least twelve inches long. Too big. Way too big.

*I can't take that. It'll split me in half.*

But my body didn't agree. My pussy clenched at the sight of it, gushing more wetness, opening wider, preparing itself.

*Yes,* my body screamed. *That. That's what I need.*

"Please," I heard myself say. My voice was barely recognizable—thick with need, rough with desperation. "Please, it hurts. I need—I need—"

Mordred moved closer. Slowly. Like he was approaching a frightened animal.

And I couldn't run. Couldn't move. Could only kneel there on the cold stone floor, trembling and desperate, as the Wolf King prepared to claim me once again.