Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 1706 - 1705

Chapter 1706: Chapter 1705

They spent the morning mapping the clearing near the heartstone. The trees bent low to watch, their leaves shimmering as the women and Jude walked the edges, marking space with woven cords and smoothed stones. Jude felt his heartbeat syncing with the pulse beneath the ground, a rhythm that seemed to guide his every step. The others felt it too - every touch between them sparked, every glance carried weight. Their movements were choreographed by instinct and trust.

Natalie wove the first strands of shelter using living vines, and when she tied the final knot, the plant pulsed in her hands, rooting itself into the soil. Stella sang softly as she guided stones into place. Susan and Emma gathered smooth pieces of driftwood from the beach. Sophie and Zoey reinforced the walkways between the shelters, turning paths into ribbons of polished moss and blossom-covered arches.

And Lucy, ever radiant, simply stood in the center of it all, her hands resting on her belly, the golden glow around her steady and bright.

By midday, the heartstone pulsed again - not a flare, not a signal, but a breath. A recognition. The island was watching, waiting, pleased.

That night, they gathered beneath the blooming tree again. It had changed since their last visit - taller, broader, its roots now curling protectively around the edge of their new village like a parent’s arms. Golden blossoms fell like snow. Jude watched one land in Lucy’s hair and caught his breath at how divine she looked.

They shared a meal of fruits and roasted roots, and laughter threaded easily between them. It wasn’t the hysterical laughter of survival. It was joy. Freedom. Belonging.

When the sun dipped low again and the sky turned to its familiar, enchanted dusk, Rose stood and held out her hand to Jude.

"Come," she said, voice low and velvet-soft.

He rose without hesitation, and she led him into the tall grass beyond the village, where the forest began. The moon was rising above the canopy, bathing them both in silver. She didn’t speak until they were surrounded by vines and silence.

"Lucy carries the seed," she said.

"I know."

"But we all carry the bond."

He turned to face her. "I’ve never felt more connected to you."

She smiled, fingers brushing his chest. "Do you know why the first chose?"

He shook his head.

"Because the island was dying. Long before we came here, long before even Alara. The island needed hearts to beat again. Souls to stir its roots. Bodies to awaken it."

"And now?"

"Now it’s waking. Slowly. Tenderly. But it remembers pain. We’ll need to protect it."

He stepped closer, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "We will."

She leaned in, her lips grazing his. "Then give it to me again. The pulse. The warmth."

He kissed her, slow at first, then deeper, his hands gripping her waist. She melted against him, their bodies already remembering the rhythm that had become their language. She pulled him down into the moss, beneath curling ferns, and together they moved - not with urgency, but with reverence.

She wrapped her legs around him as he sank into her, their bodies slick with heat and light, the island’s breath ghosting around them. Every thrust was a prayer. Every moan a promise. They rocked together in the cradle of roots and flowers, their skin glowing in the moonlight, sweat-slicked and glistening. Her hands clutched his shoulders, his back, his hair.

"You’re mine," she whispered, trembling.

"I always have been," he answered.

Their climax rolled through them like a wave of golden fire, leaving them breathless, clinging to each other as the moss pulsed beneath their bodies. Around them, the vines bloomed. The earth warmed. The stars shimmered brighter.

When they returned, the others were waiting by the fire. No one asked where they had been. No one needed to. It was written on their skin.

Lucy stood and came to him, her lips finding his without jealousy, only need. He kissed her, hands resting on her hips, and she pressed her body to his.

"We’re ready," she whispered.

"For what?" he murmured against her mouth.

She looked up, her golden eyes clear. "To become more."

And just like that, the others circled them. Twelve women. One man. One island. All tied to the same pulse.

Their hands touched. Their bodies leaned together. The glow rose again.

And above them, the sky opened once more, and the island sang.

Their breath merged into mist as the sky deepened into that unreal golden twilight, where stars danced behind gauzy clouds and the air shimmered like it had been set to music. Jude stood in the center of the twelve women, their bodies warm around him, some already pressed to his chest, others behind him, arms twined around his waist or shoulders. They weren’t just holding him - they were grounding him, pulling him deeper into the living rhythm they’d all come to share. The island didn’t hum anymore. It throbbed. Beat for beat. Heart to heart.

Lucy moved first. Her fingers slid along his jaw with reverent slowness, then down his throat, tracing the line of muscle until they reached his chest. "I feel it growing," she whispered. "Not just inside me. But in all of us."

Sophie stepped up beside her, her body bare, luminous, her dark eyes locked onto Jude’s. "We’ve changed. And we’re still changing. Do you feel it?"

"I do," he breathed.

Rose slipped her arms around him from behind, pressing her breasts to his back, her lips brushing his shoulder. "Then let us keep becoming. Not for the island. Not for duty. For us."

And they began.

The glow rose between them first. Not a command. Not a sign. Just a slow golden pulse that emerged from the moss beneath their feet and climbed their legs like warmth, licking their skin, heating them from the inside out. Jude kissed Lucy, soft and slow, while Sophie’s hand slid down his stomach, her palm flat, grounding him.