Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 1498

Chapter 1498: Chapter 1498

The breath wasn’t gentle. It was a rush - a surge of heat and sound and scent that flooded the chamber and made the moss tremble on the walls.

The drums grew louder, and with them came a scent of wet earth, of old fires and salt and flowers long extinct.

Rose stood in the center, her chest rising and falling like she’d just emerged from drowning, eyes wide, her mouth parting as the black roots around her waist pulsed with life. They were moving. Growing. Spreading.

Jude didn’t realize his feet were backing up until Sophie’s fingers tightened around his. He turned to her, but she was staring at Rose, transfixed, just like the others.

Layla’s lips had parted slightly, as if catching the rhythm of the drums in her breath. Lucy had gone completely still, the golden glow along her arms flickering like candlelight.

Even Emma, who had clung to skepticism for so long, looked... moved. Aroused. Possessed.

Then Rose opened her mouth and sang.

It wasn’t words. It wasn’t even melody. It was breath turned into sound - low, vibrating, erotic in a way that made Jude’s knees go weak. The kind of song that curled under the skin and whispered directly into the spine. The kind of sound you didn’t just hear - you felt . Between your legs. Behind your ribs. Deep in your blood.

The roots quivered. The water churned.

Layla moaned and fell to her knees.

Stella followed, her body shuddering, her fingers digging into the wet moss. Emma let out a gasp and turned toward Jude, her eyes wild, desperate.

"It’s not stopping," she whispered. "It’s in me."

Jude could feel it too. The island’s pulse had become his own. His breath matched the rhythm of the drums. His heart beat in time with the glowing marks on their skin. And as Rose continued to sing, every single one of them began to move without thought, without command.

They undressed slowly, as though guided by invisible hands.

Not by force.

By need .

Clothes fell away like petals. Skin met skin in slow collisions. Emma pressed herself against Jude’s chest, her fingers gripping his back. Layla reached for his waist, her mouth soft and wet along his shoulder. Lucy leaned in from behind, her breath hot against his neck as her hands explored his chest. Sophie stood frozen for only a moment longer before she gave in with a groan, pushing her lips to his, hard and hungry.

They weren’t taking turns anymore. There was no rhythm, no choreography. It was a storm of touch and taste and friction - flesh pressed to flesh, mouths finding each other in frantic sequences. Jude sank onto the mossy floor, his body surrounded, consumed. Sophie straddled his thighs, her hands in his hair, while Layla kissed her from behind, murmuring soft, obscene encouragements into her ear. Lucy’s lips trailed lower, her hands stroking both of them as if memorizing every pulse, every sigh.

The chamber moaned with them. The trees above trembled.

Jude’s fingers dug into Sophie’s hips as she sank onto him, her head tipping back with a cry. Around them, the others joined - not just watching but participating, touching, kissing, gasping, each woman wrapped in the next like waves cresting and breaking. Layla pressed her breasts against Lucy’s back, whispering something filthy in her ear. Stella rode Emma’s thigh, their mouths tangled. Rose knelt at the center of it all, the roots still wrapped around her waist, her body glowing like a goddess lit from within.

Jude lost count of who touched him, who kissed him, whose nails dragged across his spine. His mind blurred with the pleasure, the heat, the dizzying perfume of sweat and moss and sex. And all the while, the song continued - not from Rose alone, but from all of them. Harmonized, wordless, a chorus of desire that made the chamber hum like a living thing.

Sophie came first, her cry echoing off the stone walls like a shattering star.

Then Lucy, gasping against his throat, her thighs trembling.

Then Emma, who had tried so hard to resist, now writhing between Layla and Stella, her voice hoarse with bliss.

Jude held on as long as he could, his body trembling, his vision flickering with white-hot light until it felt like the island itself exploded inside him. He roared her name - he wasn’t sure whose, maybe all of them - and fell back into the moss, breathless, broken, reborn.

They collapsed in a tangled heap, sweat-slicked and gasping, arms draped across bellies and breasts, heads pillowed on thighs and shoulders. For a long time, no one spoke.

Then Rose stirred.

Her eyes opened.

And this time, they weren’t glowing.

They were human.

Soft. Blue. Wet with tears.

"I remember everything," she whispered.

They all turned toward her.

"I remember who I was before the cave. Before the kiss. Before the shimmer."

Lucy sat up slowly. "What... what do you mean?"

"I wasn’t gone," Rose said. "I was asleep. But not dreaming. I was listening."

"To what?" Jude asked.

Rose looked around at all of them, her voice trembling. "To her . The island. She’s not a place. She’s a mind. A body. And we’ve been inside her."

Sophie rose to her knees, blinking. "You mean... she’s alive?"

"Not like us," Rose said. "She’s older . Deeper. She doesn’t think in words. She thinks in touch. In song. In pleasure. And pain. She chose us because we... we’re lovers. Not warriors. Not destroyers. Lovers."

Emma leaned back on her hands. "Then why the rituals? The corruption? The smiles?"

"It wasn’t corruption," Rose said. "It was seduction. She didn’t want to force us. She wanted us to want her."

Jude sat up, muscles aching, heart pounding. "So what now?"

Rose stood, the roots slipping from her skin, receding like they’d finished their purpose. She walked toward him - fully naked, fully real, and more Rose than he’d ever seen. She cupped his cheek.

"Now, we ask her what she wants in return."