Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 927

Chapter 927: Chapter 927

On the walk back, the jungle was unnaturally quiet. Even the usual rustle of creatures watching them was absent. It felt like something had shifted, like the island had pulled its gaze inward.

Back at the orchard, the children ran to meet them, arms wide. Laurel threw herself at Jude’s legs, Raven grabbing Grace’s hand.

"Did the gods talk to you?" Laurel asked, serious-eyed.

Jude crouched to meet her gaze. "They did."

"Were they scary?"

"No. But they were sad. They miss the world."

Laurel nodded solemnly, then took his hand and dragged him toward the firepit. "Come eat. You’re too thin now."

That night, as the stars spilled across the sky, Jude lay in the arms of his wives, one after another, feeling their warmth, their weight, their breath on his skin. Scarlet curled atop him like a jungle cat, whispering wicked thoughts that made his pulse race. Layla kissed his ribs, slow and teasing, while Rose combed her fingers through his hair, humming softly.

Lucy straddled his lap, her hips rolling with lazy pleasure, while Stella pressed kisses to his neck and traced the glyphs with a reverent finger. Natalie watched, eyes glassy with desire, and Sophie leaned in, licking salt from his collarbone like it was ritual.

Susan and Serena came together, twin flames in contrast, one fierce, one gentle, and when Zoey joined them, her body already slick with need, the heat rose into something holy. Grace waited, patient, arms open, a balm waiting to hold him whole.

One by one, they claimed him. Slowly. Thoroughly. Not out of lust, but reverence. As if his skin told stories they had waited lifetimes to read. As if his breath could bind stars.

When the fire had died down and only the moon remained, Jude lay in their arms, breath slowing.

He didn’t speak.

But he knew now.

The island was no prison.

It was a cradle.

And he was beginning to wake.

The rain came before dawn, soft and patient, tapping leaves and roof like it had been waiting all night for permission. Jude blinked awake with the weight of limbs tangled around him, Grace’s arm draped across his chest, Stella’s knee hooked over his leg, Sophie’s breath warming the curve of his neck. For a moment he didn’t move. He just lay there, letting the quiet wash over him, the heat of their bodies seeping into his bones, the memory of the night before still echoing in the hollow places.

He’d barely spoken afterward, only looked at them, one by one, his wives who had taken him not just as man but as myth, and still chose to hold him. They had kissed him without fear. Touched him without hesitation. There had been laughter, teasing, a few stolen cries, and long moments of nothing but breath shared in the silence between stars.

Outside, the orchard stirred in the rain. Ribbons fluttered. The fig-glyph tree shimmered faintly as water rolled over its bark. And from somewhere deeper in the forest, a long, low call echoed, not threatening, not familiar, just strange. Jude sat up slowly, easing out from under Grace’s arm. She murmured in her sleep and rolled into Stella’s warmth.

He stepped outside barefoot, letting the rain run down his shoulders, soaking into his hair. The glyphs on his arms pulsed softly, brighter when the drops hit them. He raised his hand and watched the glowing lines shift and ripple, reacting to the island’s touch. It was responding to him again, but not in the way it had before. This wasn’t warning or demand. It was invitation.

A figure moved through the orchard, Emma, her dark curls tied up, rain soaking through her shirt, a spear slung casually over one shoulder. She saw him and smiled, the kind that said she’d been thinking about him, maybe dreaming of him, but also that she had something important to say.

"You felt it too?" she asked.

Jude nodded. "The sound?"

"That, and something else. The soil’s warmer. The trees are drinking like they haven’t in years. I think something woke up."

He exhaled. "Not just me, then."

Emma stepped closer, wiping her wet fingers on her hip before reaching up to trace a glowing line along his bicep. "You’re burning hotter than usual."

"I feel fine," he said.

"Not what I meant," she teased, leaning in to brush her lips along his collarbone.

He caught her waist, pulled her closer, and kissed her forehead. "You’re awake early."

"So are you," she murmured. "Which means something’s coming. You always wake first when change is near."

He didn’t argue. He just held her a moment longer before releasing her gently. "Gather everyone. I want to speak with them after breakfast. Something’s happening beneath the island, and I want us all prepared."

She nodded and turned to go, her hips swaying slightly, her bare feet leaving prints in the mud. Jude watched her disappear between the trees before turning toward the fig-glyph tree. He placed both palms against it and closed his eyes.

The vision came quickly this time, mist curling around an obsidian gate, vines unraveling like threads, and behind it, something vast moving under the earth. Not a monster. Not a god. Something older. Watching.

By the time he opened his eyes, the wives were already gathered at the orchard’s edge. The rain had slowed to a light drizzle, just enough to dampen their clothes and hair. Susan was pulling up her hood while Rose stood bare-headed, letting the drops run over her face. Lucy had a knife in her belt and a small journal tucked into her waistband. Scarlet leaned against Zoey, her arms around the other woman’s waist, eyes narrowed as she scanned the tree line.

Jude approached slowly. They all turned to face him.

"Something’s stirring beneath the island," he said without preamble. "It’s not watchers. It’s deeper."

Sophie frowned. "A creature?"

"No. A force. It’s been sleeping. But now it’s listening."

Natalie crossed her arms. "And what does it want?"