Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women

Chapter 1768: Chapter 1768

He realized it then - this was what Alara meant. It wasn’t about hierarchy. It wasn’t even about leadership. It was intimacy without boundaries. Love without limits. A garden with twelve roots and one shared sun.

The forest called again that afternoon. The same pulse from the heartstone echoed faintly, but from another direction. North. A path none of them had noticed before curved like a question mark through the woods. Thick vines parted as they approached, revealing moss-carpeted ground that glowed faintly beneath their feet.

"Another invitation?" Sophie asked, arms crossed.

Rose didn’t wait for confirmation. She started walking. Jude followed.

They walked in silence for a long time, not because they were afraid, but because they were listening. The air was different here. Heavy with anticipation. The trees didn’t move to let them pass - they guided. Branches shifted. Leaves turned toward them.

It took an hour before the forest opened again.

At the center of a wide hollow stood a stone altar. Unlike the heartstone pedestal, this one was ancient and cracked. Around it grew tall blue flowers, glowing softly with a faint silver light.

"What is this place?" Grace whispered.

Stella approached the altar. "It feels... sacred."

"It is," came a voice.

They turned.

Alara stood at the edge of the clearing. But she looked different now. Her hair had grown longer, her eyes brighter, her skin almost translucent with power.

"You’ve completed the ritual of union," she said. "But there is one more choice before you."

Rose stepped forward. "We already chose."

"Yes," Alara agreed. "But choice doesn’t end with love. It begins with it."

She motioned to the altar. "This is the Cradle. The island’s womb. If you lay upon it together, if you offer your union here, you do not just accept the island - you become part of its cycle. You plant yourselves. You become roots for the next dream."

Emma frowned. "You mean... children?"

"No," Alara said. "Something more. Not bodies, not blood. But energy. Memory. The next field. The next bloom. You create the next pattern."

Zoey turned to Jude. "Is that... is that something we want?"

Jude didn’t answer. Not right away.

Instead, he stepped to the altar and placed his hand on the stone. It was cool, smooth, and when his skin touched it, a soft hum filled the air.

He saw the others move behind him - Lucy and Sophie, then Rose and Stella. Grace followed. Natalie. Scarlet. One by one, they stepped forward, hands touching the stone or each other, forming a ring around him.

And the altar lit up.

The blue flowers glowed brighter. The moss shimmered. The trees began to sing - low, melodic hums, as if the forest itself had lungs and breath and reverence.

Jude turned to Lucy.

She smiled. "Whatever you decide, I’ll be with you."

Rose nodded. "So will I."

He looked around at the women who had followed him into dreams, into danger, into passion and pain and now this - this potential.

"I think we’re ready," he said.

The others said nothing - but they didn’t need to.

They undressed, slowly, reverently, as though stripping away the last barriers between them and the world they’d chosen to love. Jude lay down on the altar first, the stone warming beneath his back. Lucy climbed atop him, soft and glowing, her breath trembling with awe.

And then the others surrounded them, kissed them, touched them.

Rose whispered promises in his ear. Stella traced his thighs. Natalie straddled his face and shivered as he kissed her. Grace curled beside Lucy, kissing her mouth, her breasts. Zoey’s fingers wrapped around his shaft, guiding him back into Lucy’s warmth.

The altar became a symphony.

Bodies moved as one, with no beginning, no end. Lucy rode him with slow reverence. Sophie kissed his lips while Susan kissed his neck. Scarlet whimpered when Emma’s fingers entered her from behind.

Their pleasure didn’t rise like fire.

It pulsed like waves.

Heat and connection and rhythm, over and over.

And when the final climax came - shared, breathless, divine - the altar blazed blue and gold.

A shockwave pulsed through the ground.

The flowers burst open.

The trees bent toward them.

And the forest learned them.

When it was done, when they lay trembling and radiant on the altar, Alara knelt beside Jude and pressed her lips to his temple.

"You have planted yourselves," she whispered. "And from that, the world will bloom."

She vanished again, leaving only the hum of moss, the glow of flowers, and the soft gasping breaths of thirteen entangled souls who had just become more than human.

Jude wrapped his arms around Lucy. noveldrama

She kissed his chest, whispering against his skin, "We just made the next dream."

He held her tighter.

And the island pulsed, satisfied.

The sun didn’t rise in the way it used to. It unfolded, like petals pressed open by an unseen hand, spilling liquid gold across the forest canopy and down into the hollow where they lay. The altar had cooled beneath them, its glow softened to a steady pulse, like a heartbeat at rest. Around Jude, his lovers slept - some tangled in each other’s arms, some curled on their sides, glowing faintly in the hush that followed creation. Lucy’s body pressed flush to his, her lips barely parted in sleep, her hand still resting low on his abdomen, claiming him even in her dreams.

He didn’t move. Couldn’t. His body was still saturated with the experience - the union, the explosion of pleasure and meaning and transformation. Every inch of him felt new, as though his skin had been peeled away and rewrapped in something finer. More aware. He could feel the island now not just under him, but within him. In his blood. In his breath.

The others stirred slowly, each one waking in near perfect sequence, as if time had realigned them with a shared rhythm. Stella blinked up at him from where her head lay on his thigh, brushing her hair back and smiling sleepily.