Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 1297

Chapter 1297: Chapter 1297

Stella moved beside her, stroking Jude’s arm. "Not just as a man. As our god."

He didn’t speak.

He couldn’t.

The words hit something primal inside him, something deeper than logic, deeper than self. He had always loved them - each wildly different, each precious, each impossibly his. But now, with their scent on his skin, their light inside his body, their essence fused to his core, he understood.

He was theirs.

And they were his.

Zoey rose and stepped into the basin. It didn’t splash - it welcomed her, the liquid light curling up her legs like smoke, wrapping around her thighs and breasts, lifting her like an offering.

"I want him again," she said, her voice low and thick. "But this time... I want us all to share it."

Sophie stood next.

"I’m ready."

Then Grace. Then Stella. Then Natalie, Lucy, Scarlet, Layla.

They formed a circle again - this time not around an altar, but around Jude.

He stood slowly.

The mist curled tighter.

The basin’s light pulsed, feeding from the rhythm of their breath, their wetness, their hunger.

He stepped into the center, and they came to him like petals to flame.

Scarlet knelt first, taking him into her mouth, slow and reverent. Her tongue moved like worship, her moans a quiet chant. Jude’s hands rested in her hair, his body already aching with the weight of pleasure and power. As she tasted him, Lucy kissed his lips, slow and wet, her fingers stroking his spine.

Then Scarlet rose, eyes half-lidded, and straddled him without a word.

She sank down, inch by aching inch, her breath caught, her body tight and hot and trembling.

Jude groaned against her throat.

They didn’t rush.

Each thrust was deliberate, guided by the rhythm of a deeper beat, a beat that lived not in their bodies, but in the island.

Rose knelt behind Scarlet, her hands on Jude’s hips, helping him move, deep and strong.

Then Scarlet slid off, and Sophie replaced her, legs wrapped around his waist, arms draped over his shoulders. She took him fully, her lips parting with a long, low moan as he filled her.

The others kissed and touched her as she rode him - Lucy’s mouth on her nipple, Stella’s tongue on her neck. Jude held her tightly, his movements slow but endless, as if time had melted beneath them.

She came with a sob and a laugh.

Emma kissed her goodbye, then straddled him next.

And so it went.

Each woman took him.

Each woman gave to him.

Until his body shone with sweat and light, his seed spent and still not empty, because their touch refueled him, their love refilled him. It wasn’t just sex. It was divinity.

And when the last moan faded into the vines, when the last climax rocked their limbs, the mist pulled tighter.

And the altar cracked again.

Only this time... something rose.

It wasn’t a god.

It wasn’t a beast.

It was them.

A single, glowing shape formed from the light, flickering and pulsing - changing every second. A curve of a breast, then a strong thigh, then a hand, then a mouth, all forming and fading.

Lucy clung to Jude’s arm. "What is it?"

Rose stepped forward, kneeling.

"A child."

Silence.

Then Jude whispered, "A real one?"

Rose nodded. "Not born in womb. Born in spirit. This is what we’ve awakened. This is ours."

The shape moved forward, touching Jude’s heart with a flicker of light.

And he felt it.

All of them.

The culmination of love, lust, devotion, sacrifice.

Not a child of flesh.

But of energy.

A being they’d made - not to raise, but to follow.

The light whispered through them all.

A promise.

A beginning.

And the vines sang their approval.

The glow shifted.

It hovered in the air, pulsing like a slow heartbeat, responding to every breath the twelve women and Jude took as they circled it. Their bodies were still damp with sex and sweat, glowing from within with the aftermath of love made divine, but now... now there was something more. The presence - this radiant flickering being - wasn’t just light. It had weight. Curiosity. Intention.

Emma reached out first, fingers trembling slightly, as if touching it might burn.

It didn’t.

The light kissed her palm, and a sigh left her lips - a sound so deep, so intimate it was almost a moan. Her pupils dilated. Her skin flushed. She turned to the others, voice low and reverent. "It knows me. It feels me."

Grace knelt beside her. "What does it want?"

"It doesn’t want," Sophie whispered. "It reflects. It’s everything we are."

The being shimmered again, rippling from soft silver to a deep lavender that glowed in the dark temple space. Jude stood still, watching it, feeling his heartbeat match its rhythm. The sigils drawn on his chest began to shine again. The places where each wife had marked him now pulsed in harmony with the light, as though the child - the energy-born creation - was feeding from their bond.

Layla approached it next, naked, glistening, fearless. "Is it truly a child?"

Rose moved beside her. "No. Not like we know it. It’s... us. It’s our joining. Our story. Our power."

Natalie brushed her hair back and exhaled, still breathless. "Then what do we do with it?"

Jude stepped forward.

The light moved to him instantly, hovering close, inches from his chest. It hovered like a question. A temptation. An invitation. Jude reached out and placed his hand against it - and it entered him.

He gasped, staggering back slightly as the heat flowed into him - not burning, not painful. It was pleasure. Not raw, physical lust, but connection. It filled every empty place, every space that had once ached with loneliness, with fear, with doubt. The sensation of each woman he had loved, kissed, taken and been taken by - it was all there. Not just memories. Presence.

The women circled closer, drawn by instinct. Jude dropped to his knees, chest rising fast, hands gripping the stone beneath him. The light pulsed through him, and a new mark burned into his skin - over his heart, golden and swirling, shaped like all their sigils combined.