Eluna’s P.O.V.
The first thing I became aware of was warmth. The second was music. Soft chords, delicate and thoughtful, drifted through the stillness of the room like sunlight through a half-drawn curtain. I stirred beneath the sheets—white cotton, cool against my skin—and blinked as my eyes adjusted to the early morning light.
And then I saw him.
Jackson.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, shirtless and glorious in nothing but a pair of low-slung boxers, his guitar resting on his lap like it had always belonged there. His head was bowed slightly, his fingers dancing over the strings with gentle ease, the melody familiar somehow… even though I was sure I’d never heard it before.
He hadn’t noticed I was awake. I took a breath and spoke softly,
“What are you doing?”
His head turned, a
