Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 1702

Chapter 1702: Chapter 1702

They drifted into a narrow inlet where the water glowed softly beneath them, lighting the hull from below like a cradle of stars. The boat kissed the shore and stilled.

They stepped out, barefoot onto golden sand.

The moment Jude’s foot touched the beach, the island reacted.

The earth beneath him pulsed.

Flowers burst open in a line leading away from the water. The trees ahead swayed, not from wind but from awareness.

The island was alive. Awake.

And it knew them.

Sophie touched her fingers to a low-hanging vine. "It feels younger here."

"Not young," Emma said. "Just newborn."

Natalie spun in a slow circle. "It’s listening. Waiting."

"For what?" Lucy asked.

"For what we’ll ask of it," Rose said.

Jude felt the weight of that - like every step he took left a mark, not just in the sand but in something deeper.

He followed the line of flowers. The others followed him.

The forest they entered was warm and wet, full of low ferns and vines that seemed to part without being touched. There was no fear here. Only wonder.

They walked for nearly an hour before they found the first structure.

It was a circle of stones. Not natural. Placed. Intentional. And in the center, a shallow pool. Not like the heartstone pool - this one shimmered silver-blue, its surface undisturbed, its light flickering like moonlight.

Jude stepped close and peered in. His reflection stared back - but not just him.

All of them.

Naked. Glowing. Intertwined.

Then the image shifted.

A child.

Hair like Lucy’s. Eyes like Jude’s.

Another. With Emma’s smile.

A third - laughing, tumbling, golden.

He gasped.

Lucy grabbed his arm, looking into the pool. Her eyes filled with tears.

"I see them too," she whispered.

The others crowded around, one by one seeing more than reflections. Visions. Hopes. Possible futures.

Sophie stepped back first, her expression unreadable. "They’re not real."

"Not yet," Grace said.

"They could be," Rose whispered.

"No," Sophie said, her voice sharper. "Don’t you see what this is? The island wants something from us. It’s showing us what we want most. Tempting us."

Jude turned to her. "Does that make it a lie?"

She looked at him, lips trembling. "No. That’s what makes it dangerous."

Rose walked to her, pressed a kiss to her temple. "We’re not being forced. We’re being invited. But we choose what comes next."

Sophie exhaled slowly. "Then choose wisely."

The group moved back from the pool. Jude lingered.

The images faded.

The water stilled.

He touched the surface.

A ripple. A heartbeat.

A promise.

Then he stood and turned to the others.

"Let’s find the center," he said.

Because he already knew -

This island had its own heart.

And it was waiting.

They followed Jude deeper into the newborn island, their steps guided not by any map but by instinct - by the thrum beneath their feet that beat like a pulse, a rhythm they all now shared. The trees grew taller as they moved inward, their canopies threading together like woven silk above, casting golden-filtered shadows that shimmered across bare skin. The forest was warmer here, the air thicker, scented with unfamiliar blossoms and something else - something intimate.

Desire.

It wasn’t oppressive. It wasn’t even urgent. It was subtle, like the gentle stir of limbs beneath a blanket, the first breath shared between lovers, the long, slow ache of yearning just before the kiss. It came from the island itself, wrapping around them like silk, coaxing them deeper.

Stella brushed her fingers along a tree trunk as they passed. The bark shimmered faintly, then pulsed beneath her touch. "It’s breathing."

"No," Emma whispered beside her. "It’s aroused."

The word hung between them like a spell. Jude glanced back. All around him, his wives glowed faintly - skin kissed by light, eyes shadowed with wonder and heat. Their movements had slowed, each step more languid, their bodies drawn together as if magnetized.

It wasn’t long before the path opened into a vast meadow - no, not a meadow. A sanctuary. The grass was soft and waist-high, peppered with flowers that released golden pollen into the air. In the center stood a ring of obsidian stones, slick and glistening as though freshly washed. Within the circle, the earth had given way to moss and petals.

And there, rising from the middle, was another heartstone.

Larger.

Darker.

More alive.

It pulsed with gold that rippled outward like waves through the moss.

Lucy exhaled beside Jude, her fingers slipping between his. "This is it."

He nodded. "The center."

They stepped forward together, the others moving in around them like petals forming a bloom. No words. Just breath, shared looks, pulses rising.

Zoey knelt first, pressing her palm to the moss beside the stone. Her body arched as a pulse of golden light surged up her arm, across her skin. Her moan was soft but filled with pleasure.

"It’s not just energy," she whispered. "It’s longing."

Stella followed, then Grace.

Each woman who touched the moss reacted the same - breath hitching, back arching, a flush rising to their cheeks.

The island wanted them.

Jude stepped into the circle. The stone responded immediately - its glow intensifying, the golden veins racing with liquid light. He reached out, his hand hovering over its surface.

Rose touched his shoulder from behind. "This isn’t like before," she said. "It’s not showing us the past. It’s asking for the future."

He placed his palm on the stone.

The heat was immediate.

His vision blurred.

Flashes.

A village. Built by their hands. A fire pit. A gathering place. Laughter. Moans. Soft kisses exchanged under moonlight. Children running barefoot through grass. Nights tangled in limbs and sweat and whispered promises.

But also: storms. Choices. Sacrifice.

The stone was showing him what could be - not what must be.

He pulled his hand away, gasping.

Rose steadied him.

"What did you see?" Lucy asked.

He looked at them all. "A future. One we’d have to build. Together."

Susan stepped closer. "Are we ready for that?"