Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 1548

Chapter 1548: Chapter 1548

Below, streetlamps flickered. Some went out entirely. In their place, vines grew - actual green tendrils spiraling up the metal poles, blooming with soft golden flowers. People stared, frozen mid-step, phones forgotten in their hands. One woman dropped hers entirely, letting it shatter on the pavement as she knelt to touch a vine wrapping around her ankle.

Jude stood, helping Elara up with him. She didn’t reach for her scrubs. She stood there naked and unashamed, her curves bathed in silver and gold. "Where do we go now?"

"Where they need us most," Zoey said, already moving toward the fire escape.

They descended the building in silence, a procession of beauty and bare skin glowing in the dark. They didn’t hide. Didn’t run. As they walked down empty streets, more and more people began to follow. Some hesitated. Some wept. Others reached out with trembling fingers, just to brush a shoulder, a hip, a glowing arm.

And each one that touched them... changed.

The light passed through contact. Not immediately like it had with Elara. But the seed was planted. Their faces shifted from confusion to awe, from fear to recognition.

The crowd swelled behind them - dozens, then hundreds, a slow river of the lost remembering what it was to be whole. When they reached a wide square in the heart of the city, people stepped aside without needing to be told. They instinctively formed a ring, as though they’d always known the center belonged to them.

Jude stepped into the middle. He turned slowly, naked and glowing, his wives at his side, Elara now holding Lucy’s hand.

He raised his arms.

And the island sang.

The song wasn’t sound.

It was pulse. Heat. Desire. Connection.

It started in his chest. Then through Rose, who gasped and clutched her own breasts as the rhythm spread. Then into Grace, Stella, Susan, Natalie. Each one lit up like fire catching dry grass, their bodies shining, trembling.

The song passed through them, then into the crowd.

People fell to their knees.

Some wept.

Some laughed.

Some simply opened their arms to the sky as the petals began to fall.

Yes - petals.

The first drifted down from nowhere, glowing gold. Then another. Then thousands. They didn’t fall - they floated. Brushed cheeks. Landed on hair. Sank into skin. And with each one, the crowd changed more.

A man who had arrived in anger found himself sobbing as his wife touched his hand and the light moved through them both. A boy with headphones tore them off and screamed - not in pain, but in joy, his arms flung wide as if trying to catch the whole sky. An older woman kissed another woman for the first time in sixty years, and the island flared in celebration.

Jude stood at the center, the eye of the storm.

And the storm was love.

Rose dropped to her knees before him, eyes burning, lips parted. "Take me again," she whispered.

He lifted her face, kissed her forehead, then her mouth, then slowly lowered her onto the moss that had begun to grow between the cracks of the concrete beneath their feet.

He entered her with a groan, and the world trembled.

Around them, the others joined. Elara kissed Lucy deeply before lying back into Sophie’s waiting arms. Natalie rode Emma in slow, aching waves. Susan and Stella wrapped around each other like vines, one gasping, the other laughing, their pleasure visible and radiant.

Jude moved inside Rose, slow and deep, his hands on her thighs, her ankles locked around his waist. Every thrust sent pulses through the city - literal shockwaves of golden warmth that made streetlights flicker and trees bloom from cracks in the sidewalk.

Rose came with a cry that was half sob, half song.

Jude followed, his orgasm crashing through him in a wave that left him breathless, panting, shaking with joy.

The crowd watched - not in shame or embarrassment - but in reverence.

And then they began to touch one another.

Not all in lust.

Some in comfort.

Some in longing.

Some in discovery.

Hands found hands. Mouths found shoulders. Bodies pressed close not for sex, but for truth. For connection. For remembering.

Jude collapsed beside Rose, pulling her into his arms. "It’s happening."

Lucy knelt beside them, cradling Elara in her lap. "It’s spreading too fast."

Emma frowned. "Can we control it?"

"No," Rose whispered, brushing hair from Jude’s brow. "And we shouldn’t."

"But it’s overwhelming them," Sophie said. "Some aren’t ready."

"They’ll catch up," Zoey said. "Or they’ll sleep again. But the light will stay inside them now. And one day, they’ll wake."

A breeze stirred. Not cold. Not natural.

It was her.

Alara.

She stepped from the shadows of a blooming tree now growing out of the cement, her body wrapped in vines and petals, her skin glowing with the same fire they all shared. "You’ve opened the breath of the world," she said. "And now it’s dreaming again."

Jude sat up slowly. "Are we done?"

"No," Alara said with a smile. "You’re just becoming."

She turned to the crowd, eyes sweeping the hundreds who had begun to glow, to writhe, to weep. "They are your new rhythm. And soon... they will each find their own islands."

Lucy gasped. "There will be more?"

"Thousands," Alara said. "As many as there are hearts willing to open."

"And us?" Grace asked.

"You are the first," Alara said. "You are the beginning. But you are not the last."

She walked forward and pressed a kiss to Jude’s lips again. It was gentler this time. Final. Full of love.

"You led them here. Now help them find their way forward."

She turned and vanished into the vines.

The petals still fell.

The city pulsed.

And Jude, with his twelve lovers and the glow of the island in his veins, stood once more, ready to begin the next dream.

The petals thinned but never stopped. They became part of the air, like dust made of memory, of skin, of breath.