9.Jane

We sit around the small wooden table, the dim light from a lantern casting shadows on the walls. The wind howls and the rain pounds against the roof. It's almost impossible to hear anything over the tempest, but Danny's voice carries through, a low and steady anchor in the chaos.

I listen as he tells me stories about the swamp, trying to focus on his words instead of the lingering fear that gnaws at me. His tales range from humorous to fascinating—like the time he encountered a family of otters or the folklore about the swamp's mysterious lights. For a while, it's easy to forget the tension, to just get lost in his voice and the world he describes.

"Have you ever heard about the ghost of the Bayou Butcher?" Danny asks suddenly, his eyes taking on a haunted look. "They say he roams the swamp at night, looking for revenge. He was murdered by a young beautiful woman, you see, and now his spirit never rests."

A chill runs down my spine, and I can't help but shiver. "That sounds... creepy," I say, trying to keep my voice steady.

Danny nods, leaning in closer, his face half-hidden in shadow. "Yeah, it is. People have seen him, or at least, they say they have. They hear his footsteps, see light flickering in the distance. And sometimes, they hear his whispers, calling them deeper into the swamp."

The atmosphere in the room feels suddenly oppressive, the storm outside amplifying the darkness of his words. I shift uncomfortably in my seat, my heart racing. "That's... quite a story."

He notices my discomfort and pulls back, the intensity in his eyes softening. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. It's just one of those local legends. Didn't mean anything by it."

I nod, trying to shake off the unease that's settled over me. "It's okay. Just... maybe not the best time for ghost stories."

Danny chuckles, but it sounds forced, and an awkward silence falls between us. I can feel the weight of the earlier tension creeping back in, and I need a moment to clear my head.

"I think I'm going to turn in," I say, standing up and forcing a smile. "It's been a long day."

"Of course," Danny replies, standing as well. "There's a guest room down the hall. It's not much, but it's comfortable."

I give him a small, appreciative nod before heading towards the room he mentioned.

The guest room is simple but cozy, with a small bed covered in a quilt and a nightstand with a lamp. I close the door behind me, leaning against it for a moment as I take a deep breath. The storm's fury is muted here, the walls providing some sense of security, though the unease still lingers.

I reach for the pajamas Danny gave me, while the wind howls, and the rain beats relentlessly against the windows. My fingers tremble as I take my clothes off, standing fully naked in the room but I freeze when the door creaks.

Holding my breath, I flood with goosebumps, knowing I'll be his soon. He tackles me from behind, dragging me down onto the bed and my lids flutter.

This is what I wanted. This is what I've wanted all along.

"Careful," I whisper, while simultaneously arching my body against his. "I'v never done this before."

"Think you should be more concerned about bedding a potential killer," he rasps gently but I shake my head.

"You're not a killer," I say quietly and a heart-crushing smile crosses his lips.

"I'll be careful," he whispers, then kisses me. "I'll be whatever you want. Just crave me. Crave me like I crave you."

That won't be a problem.