Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women

Chapter 1585: Chapter 1585

Jude saw them flash behind his eyes - bodies moving through a city of stone and vines, laughter echoing through canopies, children running barefoot across glowing moss, women bathed in gold, their skin shimmering like light made flesh. He saw himself among them. Leading, loving, being loved. Not just by his wives - but by the land itself.

Then the image fractured, and he saw the cost.

A flash of fire.

A rising sea.

A gate opening.

A hand - pale and ancient - reaching from the dark.

He gasped and stumbled backward. Lucy caught him, her hand warm on his chest.

”What did you see?” she asked softly.

”Something’s coming,” he whispered. ”Something from below.”

Zoey stepped to the pedestal next, her fingers brushing against the stone.

The vision flared again.

This time, everyone saw it.

A face - beautiful, cruel, familiar. A woman made of roots and shadow. She moved through the forest like a storm, her eyes glowing with hunger. And behind her... others. Shapes half-formed, made of dark and ash.

”She was once like us,” Rose said, her voice hollow. ”But she broke the balance.”

Emma turned, eyes narrowing. ”And now she wants to take it back.”

”No,” Stella said. ”She wants to take him .”

All eyes turned to Jude.

He felt the weight of their gazes, the truth in their stares. His body ached with it. Not pain - potential. The mark on his chest blazed.

Lucy stepped in front of him, protective, defiant. ”Then we protect him. All of us.”

Jude’s voice was rough. ”I’m not afraid.”

”We know,” Sophie said, stepping closer. ”That’s what scares her .”

A low sound echoed through the chamber - like roots tearing through earth. The tree above trembled.

”She’s waking,” Grace whispered.

Rose nodded, her fingers still on the stone. ”Then we wake too.”

They made their way out of the chamber and into the roots. A narrow stairway wound through the rock, leading up inside the trunk of the tree itself. The walls pulsed with golden light. Vines wrapped around their ankles like living things. When they reached the heart of the tree, they found another space - round, intimate, lined with soft moss and thick petals. The air was warmer here, almost humid, rich with scent and heat.

Jude stood in the center.

His wives circled him.

None of them spoke.

They didn’t need to.

Lucy approached first, her wrap slipping from her shoulders. She pressed her lips to his chest, just above the mark, and whispered, ”Let’s make you stronger.”

Then Zoey stepped in behind him, her hands smoothing along his waist. ”Let us feed you.”

One by one, they joined.

Emma’s breath at his throat.

Stella’s kiss on his shoulder.

Sophie’s fingers tracing his ribs.

Grace’s hands in his hair.

Scarlet’s mouth at his navel.

Natalie’s thighs brushing his.

Susan’s sigh against his ear.

And Rose - always last - pressing against his back, her arms wrapping around his chest, her voice a whisper in the dark. ”Let the island have us all.”

They undressed him slowly, reverently.

Not a frenzy.

Not lust.

But devotion.

Jude trembled, but not from nerves. From the weight of their attention. From the energy curling in his blood.

Lucy knelt before him, her lips parting as she took him in with a sigh, her tongue circling him, her eyes never leaving his. Behind him, Zoey kissed his spine, open-mouthed and wet. Hands roamed across his skin, fingertips trailing fire.

He gasped as Scarlet’s mouth joined Lucy’s, their tongues flickering against each other as they worshipped him together. He reached down, tangling his fingers in their hair. His knees buckled, but Rose steadied him, her hand stroking down his chest.

Sophie pressed her body to his side, her breasts soft and warm, her breath quickening. Emma slid her fingers between his legs from behind, brushing over sensitive skin, teasing. Jude moaned, deep and low, his hips jerking.

And then Grace mounted him.

Slow.

Full.

She sank down with a shuddering breath, and he filled her, their bodies meeting perfectly. The others held them, kissed them, licked and moaned around them. It was a chorus of heat, of surrender. Jude’s hands clutched Grace’s hips as she rode him, slow at first, then faster, her breasts bouncing, her mouth open in ecstasy.

Lucy and Scarlet kissed up his thighs.

Emma and Sophie kissed each other, pressed close to his side.

Natalie straddled his face, moaning when his tongue found her.

And Rose - always Rose - watched it all from behind him, fingers buried in herself, her eyes never leaving his.

When Grace climaxed, she screamed his name, and the mark on her chest flared gold.

She slid off him, panting, trembling.

Then Stella replaced her.

Then Emma.

Then Natalie.

One after another, they took him. Loved him. Offered themselves to him and the island in one long, endless ritual. His body never faltered. The tree fed him, held him, blessed him. His breath came ragged, his mind swimming in gold and heat and love.

And when Rose finally stepped forward and straddled him, he saw the island through her eyes - ancient, vast, yearning.

They moved together like a storm.

Hard.

Fast.

Desperate.

When he came, it was with a roar that shook the tree.

Light exploded from the mark on his chest.

And the mountain answered.

A shockwave burst through the roots, lighting the forest with gold.

Far away, the dark woman stirred.

She felt it.

And she was coming.

The moment the light exploded from Jude’s body, it raced through the roots of the tree like wildfire - golden tendrils spiraling through stone, bark, and earth, rushing outward in every direction across the island. The tree shook with the force of it, branches groaning like ancient timbers in a storm. And far below, in a place none of them had touched, a deep, guttural sound echoed upward - an answering cry, low and female, like a breathless gasp rising from the island’s core.

Jude lay beneath Rose, his chest still heaving, the heat of their union shimmering in waves around them.