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... wives moved like a tribe reborn - nude, glowing, their skin marked by light pollen from the garden behind them. Each of them carried the scent of the island, and the island itself seemed to recognize them in return. The very ground pulsed beneath their feet, sending heat up through their soles and into their bones.
They followed a path of silver vines that curled ahead, snaking like veins through the forest floor. The vines pulsed with the same rhythm as Jude’s heart. He didn’t know whe ...
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