Lucy stepped forward, her bare feet whispering across the wood, the morning light catching in the delicate shimmer of sweat on her collarbone. Her smile wasn't the eerie, glowing grin that Rose wore - but something softer, more intimate, and devastatingly sensual. Jude couldn't move. He sat frozen on the edge of the bed, watching her as if she were something sacred and forbidden all at once.
She came closer, her eyes locked to his, but he could see her chest rising and falling faster now, like her body was reacting before her mind could even catch up. Her fingertips trailed across the low beam of the wall as she passed, then across his shoulder, as if grounding herself. Her smile remained, but her lips parted just slightly, and Jude swore he heard a hum beneath her breath - a note, barely audible, the same one from the island's pulse.
"Lucy," he whispered again.