Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 1577

Chapter 1577: Chapter 1577

The sanctuary darkened as they moved toward the soft moss at its center, their bodies sliding down to rest, to twine together. There was no urgency, no leader. Only instinct. Jude lay down first, and Lucy straddled him, her skin hot against his as she leaned in to kiss his mouth, slow and deep.

Then Emma pressed against his side, her hand sliding along his chest. Zoey kissed his neck, her tongue teasing, playful. Natalie curled beside Lucy, her lips grazing Jude’s shoulder before moving to claim Lucy’s in a sighing kiss. Stella joined them, her fingers moving in circles along Zoey’s hip.

The rest followed - gracefully, naturally - until the sanctuary became one body, one breath, limbs tangled and lips seeking. Scarlet’s moans melted into Grace’s laughter. Susan buried her mouth between Sophie’s thighs while Sophie held Jude’s hand, eyes locked with his even as her breath hitched from the pleasure building beneath her. Emma kissed Jude while Rose rode his thigh, her movements slow, almost hypnotic.

They weren’t trying to worship anymore.

They were becoming something.

A shared pulse. A rhythm of moans and sighs and breath that stirred the air itself.

And when Jude entered Lucy, when her body wrapped around his with desperate heat and open need, it was as if the entire circle took a breath together.

He moved inside her slowly, surrounded by warmth, the press of breasts and thighs and lips. Zoey and Emma kissed above him, bodies pressed tight. Grace and Natalie lay entwined beside them, touching, watching, wanting. Rose guided their pace, her body sliding along Jude’s leg, her mouth hot on his chest, her fingers tangled in Lucy’s hair.

When he came, it wasn’t a moment.

It was a wave .

It pulsed out from him like sunlight, and the others followed - Lucy arching, crying out his name; Grace trembling; Susan gasping with her face buried in Sophie’s neck; Emma convulsing as Zoey held her; Scarlet gripping Stella’s hand as her mouth opened in a silent cry.

Their bodies shimmered.

The sanctuary did too.

A breeze lifted through the trees - not harsh, but deliberate. The fire flared gold. Outside, the vines rustled.

And a voice whispered on the wind.

"They’re coming."

Jude lifted his head slowly. "Who?"

But the voice was gone.

Only silence remained.

Only heat.

The women curled around him one by one, still breathless, still trembling.

"I heard it too," Lucy whispered.

"So did I," Rose murmured, tracing a glowing line down Jude’s chest.

"They’re coming," Stella repeated, her voice reverent.

"Dreamers," Grace said. "Like us."

Zoey exhaled and kissed Emma’s collarbone. "So what do we do when they arrive?"

"We teach them," Sophie said. "Gently."

"Or break them," Scarlet said with a wicked grin.

Rose chuckled softly. "Both, maybe."

The sanctuary dimmed again, pulling them into sleep.

That night, the dream came not as vision but invitation .

Jude saw them - faces not yet familiar, eyes searching. Men. Women. Pairs. Wandering across waters, across plains, following a pulse they didn’t yet understand.

And each time they drew near, they saw flashes of the Bloom.

Of him.

Of the circle.

Of Lucy’s golden eyes. Rose’s knowing smile. Sophie’s fierce strength. Grace’s softness.

And then Jude saw the Gate again, those twelve stones, glowing like coals.

One by one, the stones began to shimmer.

One for each new soul.

Twelve more.

Then twenty-four.

Then more.

He woke just before dawn, heart racing, his body covered in dew and desire.

The others stirred slowly, as if called by his thoughts. Rose kissed his shoulder. Lucy curled tighter into his chest. Emma reached across his stomach, her hand resting over his heart.

Jude sat up.

"They’re coming," he said.

No one questioned it.

Not this time.

They rose together.

This time, they dressed in wraps woven with purpose, colors braided in to match the tree, the moss, the stones. They moved like priestesses and lovers both - barefoot and beautiful, hair wild and eyes alive.

And at the Gate, they waited.

Jude stood at the center.

The wind rose.

The sun climbed.

And from the trees came the sound of voices.

New.

Cautious.

And drawn.

Jude smiled, his heart steady.

The dream had become a place.

And now it would become a people.

The figures emerged from the trees slowly, as if they were afraid the forest would swallow them if they moved too fast. They were a pair - man and woman - skin streaked with dust and the weariness of travel, their eyes wide, searching. They wore simple clothes, frayed and damp from the island’s moods, but there was something radiant about them already, something open. As though the pulse had already begun to sing in their blood.

The moment they stepped into the clearing, the air shifted. The stones around the Gate flared faintly - just once - and then settled back into their steady golden hum.

Jude stepped forward, bare-chested, the symbol of the tree still glowing faintly on his skin. He didn’t speak at first. He didn’t need to. He only looked into their eyes - hers a soft, stormy gray, his a dark, startled brown - and waited. The woman’s breath caught. She stepped forward first.

"You were in our dream," she said. Her voice was hoarse, not from fear, but from reverence.

"So were you," Jude replied.

The man followed, glancing at the glowing stones. "What is this place?"

Jude smiled gently. "Home. If you choose it."

The rest of the women appeared around him then, emerging from the edges of the circle like the rising sun. Lucy came first, her golden gaze warm and welcoming. Grace and Stella flanked her, draped in pale cloth, hair loose. Zoey and Scarlet walked together, hips swaying, their bodies marked with faint traces of last night’s ritual still glowing on their thighs.

Natalie carried a cup of fruit and water, which she extended to the newcomers with a small, knowing smile. "Eat. Drink. You’ll need your strength."

The woman took it with trembling hands. The man hesitated, then accepted a slice of fruit, biting into it slowly. His pupils dilated.