Vanished Sisters The Lycan King's Slave Island novel Chapter 49

Chapter 49

Natasha’s POV

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I pushed the blankets off and swung my legs over the side of the cot. The movement sent fresh waves of pain through my core, but nothing like before. Nothing like the tearing, burning agony that had consumed me in that blood-soaked room.

I should barely be able to move. The damage was-it was catastrophic. There’s no way I should be conscious, let alone sitting up.

But here I was. Sitting. Breathing. Alive.

I stood slowly, testing my weight on shaking legs.

For a moment, they held. I took a tentative step-

And immediately collapsed.

My knees gave out without warning, sending me crashing to the floor. I landed hard on my hands and knees, gasping as the impact jarred my

tender body.

“Fuck,” I hissed through clenched teeth.

Too weak. Still too weak.

I stayed on the floor for a moment, breathing hard, waiting for the pain to subside.

Then, slowly, I pushed myself back up. Using the cot for support, I hauled myself to my feet again.

Come on. You’ve survived worse than this. Just stand. Just-

I made it upright. Barely.

My legs trembled like a newborn foal’s, but they held my weight. Mostly.

I looked around the room more carefully now, searching for any sign of Davelina or Lucy.

Nothing.

The room was empty except for me.

Where are they? Why would they leave me alone?

Unless something happened. Unless they couldn’t stay.

Fear spiked through me, sharp and cold.

What if someone found out? What if they discovered my secret?

What if Davelina’s in danger?

III

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Chapter 49

I had to find her. Had to make sure she was safe.

But first-

I looked down at myself. At the clothes I was wearing.

A plain shirt-too big, hanging loose on my frame. And trousers that pool around my ankles.

These aren’t mine. Lucy must have dressed me after-

After.

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After the King raped me.

The memory tried to surface-claws and teeth and impossible penetration-but I shoved it down. Locked it away.

Not now. I can’t deal with that now. Focus on the present. Focus on survival.

I moved slowly toward the chair, each step a careful negotiation between my will and my body’s limitations. When I reached it, I sank down

gratefully, my legs giving out again.

I need to check. Need to see how bad it is.

With shaking hands, I began unbuttoning the shirt.

It fell open, revealing-

White cloth. Strips of linen wrapped tightly around my chest.

My binding. Lucy must have re-bound me. Must have-

She knows.

Of course she knows. She dressed me. She saw-

I touched the binding carefully. It was secure. Professional. The kind of wipping that came from someone who knew what they were doing.

She’s protected my secret. Even though she knows the truth, she’s still protecting me.

Relief flooded through me so intensely it made my eyes sting with tears.

I blinked them back and continued my examination.

The shirt came off completely. I set it aside and looked down at my torso

My stomach-which had been grotesquely swollen with the King’s cum-ws almost flat now. Just a slight bloating remained, like I’d eaten a large meal.

How is that possible? It’s only been-

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19:37 Mon, Feb 16 GWG.

Chapter 49

How long has it been? Hours? Days?

I don’t know. I have no idea how much time has passed.

I pressed my hands against my abdomen, feeling for damage. For pain.

There was tenderness. Deep bruising that made me wince when I touched. But nothing like what I remembered.

Nothing like the feeling of being torn apart from the inside.

I looked down at my thighs. At the place where I’d felt blood pouring out of me.

The trousers were clean. No stains. No evidence of the hemorrhaging that should have killed me.

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I need to see. Need to know for sure.

My hands moved to the waistband of the trousers. I hesitated for just a moment-some deep, instinctive reluctance to confront what had been

done to me.

Then I forced myself to continue.

The trousers came off slowly. I had to lean back against the chair, lifting my hips carefully to slide them down my legs.

And then I was naked from the waist down, sitting in Lucy’s room, staring at my own body.

Oh my God.

The bruises were extensive. Dark purple and black marks covered my inner thighs, spreading up toward my hips. Handprints where the King had gripped me. Claw marks that had left shallow gouges in my skin.

But the wounds-the terrible, gaping wounds that should have been there

They were gone.

Or rather, they were healing. At an impossible rate.

My labia were swollen and red, yes. Inflamed. Tender-looking. The flesh was puffy, the color a deep pink that bordered on crimson.

But they were intact.

Not torn. Not shredded. Not destroyed.

This can’t be real. This isn’t possible.

I spread my legs wider, angling myself toward the weak light from the window so I could see better.

The flesh was puffy. Irritated. There were small tears at the entrance-tiny splits in the delicate tissue that wept a little clear fluid. The kind of

damage you’d expect from rough sex, not from being impaled by something the size of my forearm.

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