Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women

Chapter 1750: Chapter 1750

Jude’s breath caught. He didn’t know how he knew, but he knew. If the heartstone had been the spark, the womb of the island was the source. And it was calling to him.

"I need to go," he said.

Rose met his gaze. "Not alone."

Lucy smiled, stepping closer, brushing his lips with hers. "Never alone."

That afternoon, they gathered again, the twelve women surrounding Jude beneath the canopy of the forest where the golden light had first descended. They stood in a loose circle, hands brushing, bare skin gleaming with pollen and sweat, their bodies still humming from the night before. The air was thick with anticipation.

"Something’s moving under us," Natalie said quietly. "Like the earth’s about to split open."

Grace tilted her head, her braid swinging softly. "Not in violence. In birth."

Zoey laughed, low and sensual. "So this is what it feels like to be gods."

"We’re not gods," Emma said, brushing her fingers through Jude’s hair as she passed behind him. "We’re the beginning of something divine. That’s different."

Stella knelt beside the moss and pressed her palm to the earth. Her eyes fluttered closed. "I can feel it. Like there’s a rhythm in the soil. It’s beating. Guiding."

Scarlet moved beside her, mimicking her motion. "It’s not beneath us. It’s inside the land. Alive. Breathing."

Jude stepped forward. "Then we follow it."

He didn’t lead. Not exactly. It was more like the forest leaned forward to guide them. The moss pulsed beneath their feet, warmer in some places, faintly lit in others. They walked as one, twelve women and one man, barefoot and glowing, past the familiar paths, deeper than they had ever gone.

No birds called here. No wind stirred the branches. It was silent but not dead.

Holy.

After what might’ve been hours, or no time at all, they came to a clearing unlike any other they had seen. It was circular, with a dome of vines woven overhead, tight and pulsing with golden veins. In the center was a depression in the ground - wide, smooth, and dark, like the mouth of a great well. It smelled like old rain and new life. Fertile. Waiting.

Rose knelt beside it first and laid her palm against the moss surrounding the pit. A warm breath escaped from the hole, brushing her hair back from her face like a kiss.

"This is it," she whispered. "The womb."

Lucy dropped to her knees beside her, then Sophie, then Susan. One by one, the others followed, until only Jude remained standing at the edge, watching them form a ring around the opening.

"Do I go first?" he asked.

Rose looked up at him. "You go last."

They entered the womb one by one. The descent wasn’t steep, but it felt sacred. The air grew heavier with each step, filled with the scent of flowers that hadn’t bloomed in centuries and waters that had never seen the sun. The space below was vast and round, a chamber of roots and glowing veins that pulsed like veins under skin.

At the center of the room was a pool - not like the heartstone’s obsidian mirror, but a warm, living fluid that shimmered in shifting colors. The women stepped in without hesitation, naked and radiant, their bodies reflecting every shade of gold, crimson, and violet that flickered through the air.

When Jude finally joined them, the water welcomed him like a lover - arms of warmth wrapping around his thighs, his hips, his chest, until he was submerged to his ribs. The women formed a circle again, touching shoulders, touching hands, the light of their union casting ripples through the chamber walls.

"It’s listening," Emma whispered.

"It’s waiting," Natalie added.

"For what?" Jude asked.

Zoey smiled and pressed her body against his. "For the next seed." noveldrama

Before he could ask what she meant, they were upon him - slow and sensual, mouths finding his skin, fingers dancing over his chest, down his thighs. It wasn’t hunger. It was offering. Ritual. Their union wasn’t just for pleasure now. It was for unlocking. For becoming.

Sophie kissed his lips as Grace straddled his lap, lowering herself with reverent ease. Their breaths mingled, and the air lit up around them, gold and fire and breathless promise. Grace moved slowly, her hands tangled in his hair, her moans like prayers.

Then Lucy kissed his chest, and Rose kissed his mouth.

And Susan whispered, "You’re the key. We are the gate."

They moved together in rhythm, each wife joining the circle - some pressing kisses to his back, some kneeling before him, some slipping against his sides, their skin like silk and sunlight. Every connection drew a new glow from the pool, until the water itself seemed to boil with light.

Jude arched his back as Stella’s mouth claimed his neck and Scarlet’s hands gripped his waist. When Emma slid onto him, gasping, trembling, the womb answered.

A deep hum echoed through the chamber. The vines overhead pulsed. The light turned white-hot.

And then it happened.

The pool exploded in light - every drop a star, every ripple a wave of new beginning. Jude cried out, not from pain but from awakening. He saw it all - the future. The island. The children. The cycles. The history. The ones who came before. The ones who would come again.

The womb wasn’t just the origin.

It was the prophecy.

As the light dimmed and the water stilled, Jude collapsed into the arms of his wives, panting, trembling, whole.

And from the darkness beyond the chamber wall, a voice whispered -

"The roots are ready."

The womb had answered. And something ancient had heard.

Jude opened his eyes slowly, his head resting against Grace’s chest, her heartbeat thudding like a slow drum beneath his cheek. Around them, the womb had dimmed into a soft amber glow, the pulsing veins in the chamber walls calming to a steady rhythm. The pool had quieted, but its warmth still held them, cradled them, like the arms of something eternal.