Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 1439

Chapter 1439: Chapter 1439

The lullaby continued into the evening, woven through the trees like wind made sound, settling into their skin and bones. No one spoke for a long while. They remained in the grove, their bodies a gentle tangle of limbs and breath and afterglow. Even the birds seemed to quiet in reverence, as if the entire island were bowed in awe of what had been born between them.

When night finally fell, it wasn’t darkness that came - it was warmth, a silvery glow spreading across the moss and bark like moonlight filtered through memory. The new tree at the center of the grove had grown taller since its sprouting. Its violet-tinged leaves glowed gently, and a soft shimmer ran along its trunk like the heartbeat of something impossibly ancient.

Rose was the first to stand. Her skin gleamed in the low light, and her eyes shone with quiet purpose. She moved to the tree, reached out, and pressed her palm against its bark. A hum rose beneath her touch, deeper and more resonant than the island’s usual song. The others watched, eyes wide but calm, as if they already knew something sacred was happening.

Jude sat up slowly, Lucy still curled against his side, her head resting over his heart. She stirred when he moved, lifting her face toward him, her fingers trailing along his ribs. "You feel it too," she whispered.

He nodded. "It’s like we planted a part of ourselves."

Emma reached out toward the tree, but didn’t rise. "More than ourselves," she murmured. "Like... a seed of what we’ll become."

Rose turned to them then, her voice low and strong. "This tree is bound to us. It’s part of our circle now. The first root of what we’ll build."

"A new beginning," Grace whispered, her arms wrapped around Sophie’s waist.

"But not just for us," Rose continued, stepping back so they could all see the way the tree pulsed in harmony with their breath. "This grove - this heart - is now alive with us. Our bond. Our blood. It will feed from our love... and give back more."

"More?" Zoey asked, lifting her head from Stella’s lap.

Rose knelt beside her and brushed a lock of hair from her cheek. "The dream we lost... the one with our children. The island took it away when we weren’t ready. But now? Now we are."

Jude’s breath caught. "Are you saying..."

"Yes," Rose said softly, smiling. "The next circle. It begins now."

The grove fell into silence again, but this time it was stunned with wonder. The dream had seemed like a cruel gift, a memory of something they never had. But now, the promise shimmered again - real, possible. They had laid roots. And now, something could grow.

That night, they returned to the treehouse together, moving as a single, fluid shape, their fingers intertwined, their bodies still glowing from the grove’s magic. They made love again beneath the stars, not in frenzy, but in reverence - gentle, deliberate, lush with whispered words and lingering kisses. Every breath was a vow. Every touch was a seed.

Jude and Sophie kissed under the rafters, slow and deep, her legs wrapped around his waist as he pressed her against the wall, their gasps lost in each other. Nearby, Lucy lay with Emma in a slow, rolling embrace, their bodies shimmering with sweat and soft light. Zoey sat astride Stella, her hands gripping her thighs, her voice low and breathless with pleasure. Susan and Grace curled around each other on a blanket by the railing, exchanging slow kisses and tender strokes, while Natalie and Scarlet held hands above them, sharing kisses that felt like prayers.

And through it all, Jude moved between them - not as a conqueror or king, but as a lover, a center, a home. They welcomed him into their arms, into their bodies, into their hearts. And each time he gave himself, he felt the island pulse in response, echoing the rhythm of their union.

By sunrise, they lay spent again, tangled in sheets and limbs, lips bruised, eyes soft, hearts wide open. Jude couldn’t sleep. He sat at the edge of the treehouse, legs dangling, the breeze brushing over his bare skin. The forest shimmered before him - alive, watching, singing its soft song.

Behind him, Rose came to sit, naked and beautiful and calm. She placed her head on his shoulder. "You feel it," she whispered.

"I don’t want to hope," he said. "Not if it’s going to be taken away again."

"This time," she said, "we’ve made it real. Together."

He turned to her. "How can you be sure?"

"Because I know what love feels like now. Not just the rush or the fire. The root. The kind that grows. You gave it to all of us."

His heart ached with how much he wanted to believe her.

Down below, the tree in the grove glowed faintly.

A promise.

They stayed there until the others woke, one by one, joining them with lazy kisses and sleepy eyes. Breakfast was a blur of laughter and shared touches, fruit and kisses and soft moans traded like the morning air. Their bodies never strayed far from each other anymore, hands always reaching, lips always brushing. It wasn’t just desire - it was connection. Touch was their new language.

Later, when the sun was high and the island buzzed with quiet energy, they returned to the grove. The tree had grown another foot, its leaves fuller, its shimmer brighter. Around it, the moss had turned a deeper green, dotted with tiny violet blossoms.

Sophie bent to touch one. It opened beneath her fingers, releasing a scent that made her moan softly and shiver. "It’s feeding from us," she said, breathless.

"And we feed from it," Emma added, brushing her hand across Jude’s chest.

They gathered in a circle, not to repeat the ritual, but to listen. The tree sang now, a deep, slow melody they all felt in their bones.

Scarlet, who rarely spoke, looked up and whispered, "We’ve created something sacred."