Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 1531

Chapter 1531: Chapter 1531

Night came slowly and dreamlike. The group returned to the treehouse not because they had to, but because the wind nudged them gently that way. Their limbs moved lazily, heavy with pleasure and transformation.

They curled together on mats and soft blankets, tangled as one.

Jude couldn’t tell where one body ended and another began.

And that night, he dreamed again.

Of twelve glowing women standing around the golden tree, their arms outstretched, their lips curved in peace. They sang - not the song of the island, but one they had made themselves. New. Beautiful. Undeniable.

When he woke, all twelve were watching him.

Smiling.

And Lucy whispered, "It’s time you saw what’s beneath it."

He nodded.

Lucy took his hand without hesitation, her fingers cool from the morning air and threaded perfectly between his. Around them, the others stirred slowly, wordlessly falling into step. No one asked where they were going. No one needed to. The tree called to them, its hum deeper now, like a voice not quite heard but always felt.

They walked barefoot through the dew-drenched grass, their skin still marked by the night’s passion - faint bruises on hips, red swells where lips had pressed too hard, heat lingering in their joints and bellies. And yet, none of it slowed them. The path through the forest seemed to unfold as they moved, vines slinking away, mist parting gently as though giving them permission.

The golden tree stood where they had left it, rising like a flame from the stone, its black bark now threaded with gleaming veins of amber light. Jude paused at the edge of the chamber, his breath catching. It had grown taller - noticeably so - reaching toward the roof of the cavern like it was hunting the stars buried in rock.

Rose stepped forward, her fingers brushing the bark. It responded to her touch like water disturbed, rippling faintly before stilling. Then, without a word, she knelt and began to clear the moss at its base.

Sophie joined her. Then Zoey.

They dug slowly with bare hands, reverently peeling back the soft green carpet until the roots began to show - twisting, dark, gnarled things knotted in complex spirals. Jude dropped to his knees beside Lucy and helped.

It wasn’t long before they found it.

A hollow. Just wide enough for a person.

It looked like a grave, or a cradle.

Jude stared into the space, and something in him twisted - not fear, not exactly, but awe so vast it felt like his spine couldn’t hold it.

Rose looked up at him.

"It wants you now," she said gently.

Jude glanced at the others, half-expecting protest. But there was none. Not even from Emma. Not from Sophie. They all watched him with calm certainty, their bodies relaxed, their breathing steady. As if this had always been the next step.

He looked back into the hollow.

Then he nodded.

The women helped him undress - not seductively, not with hunger, but with a care that felt ceremonial. Lucy pressed a kiss to his chest. Grace wrapped her arms around his waist for a moment before stepping aside. And Sophie helped him lie down, her fingers brushing through his hair like she was tucking a child into bed.

Jude settled into the hollow. The root walls were warm. Breathing, almost. He exhaled slowly, and the tree responded - a glow deepening in the bark, the golden light pulsing to a rhythm that felt like his heartbeat.

"Close your eyes," Rose whispered.

He did.

The hum rose.

The roots closed gently around him - not burying, not suffocating, just enclosing. The world faded from view, replaced by sound and pressure and warmth. For a moment, he was weightless. Suspended. His body no longer his own but part of something larger.

He saw lights behind his eyelids. Shapes moving.

Voices.

Memories.

Rose’s laughter from the first night they arrived. Lucy moaning in the dark, tangled in sweat and heat. Stella humming by the river, her voice threading through the trees. Sophie weeping softly as he kissed her shoulders in the candlelight. The others. All of them. Love so vast it made his chest ache.

Then something more.

The island.

Not as a place - but as a mind.

It opened to him.

Not with words, but images. Sensations. A thousand eyes watching, not judging, just waiting. The tree was its mouth. The song, its breath. The women - it had chosen them, yes - but it had waited for him.

He was the final key.

He saw himself not as he was, but as they saw him - strong, steady, beloved. A center. A fire. A root.

When he opened his eyes, he wasn’t in the hollow anymore.

He was standing.

Naked.

Bathed in gold.

The women surrounded him, eyes wide, mouths slightly open in awe.

The tree’s light pulsed behind him, brighter than ever.

Sophie stepped forward first, reaching for him.

"Jude," she whispered, "what did it show you?"

He looked around at them - all twelve. His wives. His lovers. His soul.

And he said, "That we’re not meant to resist this. We’re meant to lead it."

Their bodies pressed close before he could say more. Lucy’s mouth found his collarbone, Stella’s hands wrapped around his hips, Rose pressed her lips to his ear.

They moved together like a tide, like music.

Jude didn’t know where one woman ended and the next began - only that they wanted him, needed him, not just physically but entirely. And he gave himself in return, completely, again and again.

Under the tree.

On the moss.

In the golden light.

The island pulsed with them.

And the song changed.

The rhythm of the island pulsed deeper, richer now - less a hum and more a heartbeat. It throbbed in the soil, in the air, in Jude’s chest as he lay beneath the golden canopy of the tree, tangled in limbs and breath and warmth. Lucy lay half across him, her fingers lazily trailing patterns along his stomach. Zoey rested with her head against his thigh, her eyes closed, lips slightly parted, humming softly in rhythm with the pulse of the tree.