1.

Mega

I take a deep breath, inhaling the rich, earthy scent of the bayou. My new home. I"ve always dreamed of living somewhere with character, and this old house certainly fits the bill. Nestled at the edge of the swamp, it"s the perfect blend of rustic charm and natural simplicity. I moved in a couple of days ago, but there are still boxes that need to be unpacked, and the place isn't homey enough yet. Fishing out the quilt I bought at a flea market, I drape it over my worn leather couch and take a step back.

Putting my hands on my hips, I tilt my head to the side.

It actually looks pretty good and it suits the shabby-chic interior. Everything here is old. The wooden floors creak with every step, telling stories of the ones who lived here before me. The breeze that sneaks through the slightly warped window frames carries whiffs of the mysterious swamp. Most people wouldn't probably find such an isolated place so comforting, but I do.

Then again, I've always had an edge to me.

Humming to myself, I arrange my books on the shelf, when my phone buzzes on the coffee table. I glance at it, frowning because I'm not expecting a call from anyone. It's been years since I spoke to my family, and the number is unknown. I hesitate for a moment, then pick it up.

"Hello?" I say, already tense because I don't like to be caught off guard.

There"s no response. Just silence. Then, I hear it – the sound of breathing. Slow, deliberate. My heart skips a beat.

"Hello?" I repeat, a little louder this time. My voice wavers, betraying my unease. "Can you hear me?"

The breathing continues, and I feel a chill creep up my spine. I clench the phone tighter, trying to convince myself that it"s probably just a prank call. Kids playing a joke. Nothing to worry about. But the longer the silence stretches, the harder it is to hold onto that thought.

"Who am I speaking to?" I demand to know, trying to summon some courage.

Finally, the breathing stops, replaced by a voice. Low, almost a whisper, but clear enough to make out every word.

"Do you ever get scared, living in that big, old house all alone?"

My blood turns to ice. I can feel my pulse in my ears, loud and frantic. My eyes dart around the room, searching for something – anything – that might explain this. Did someone see me move in? Are they watching me now?

"Who is this?" I ask.

"I would be scared. Shadows always seem bigger when you're alone."

"I'm going to hang up now."

"But we're just getting started. And I want to keep talking to you. You have the most beautiful voice," the caller rasps, his tone smooth and unsettling.

My blood runs cold.

"I like the way it trembles. Your innocence, your fear... it's intoxicating." A chilling laugh escapes him. "I like the darkness in you."

"You know nothing about me," I clip, my hands trembling.

"I don't have to know. I can see it in your eyes."

For a moment, I expect seeing a figure standing in front of me but there's nobody there. "You need to leave me alone…"

"I can't," he says and I can hear the smile in his voice. "And you don't want me to either. You want someone who sees you for who you really are."

"No," I whisper, but even to my own ears, it sounds weak, unconvincing.

"I can make you feel things you"ve never felt before," he continues, his tone seductive. "I can make you mine."

My breath catches in my throat, a shiver running down my spine. "Stay away from me," I croak.

"Do not hang up…," he warns, but I let out a choked cry and do just that. I stand there, the phone still pressed to my ear, my heart pounding in my chest. The house feels colder, the sun icier and more menacing. If I turn around, I have the feeling someone will grab me and every single creak the house makes amplifies my terror. Somebody out there knows me intimately. Somebody out there is watching me. Waiting for the right moment to strike.

He's not done with me yet.

I already know he's going to call again. I set the phone down, my hands trembling and for a moment I wonder if I'm taking things too far. It could have been a prank. Some bored local trying to spook the new girl in town. But the more I think about it, the more I realize I'm just gaslighting myself. The call seemed… personal.

Wrapping my arms around me, I walk to the window. I haven't had the chance to put up curtains yet and I peer out, scanning the bayou for any sign of movement. The water ripples gently, and the trees sway, but there"s no one there. No one that I can see, anyway.

I take a deep breath and try to calm my racing heart. I need to get a grip. This is my home now, and I won"t let some creepy phone call ruin that for me.

But as I turn away from the window, I can"t shake the feeling that I"m under observation. I head upstairs, my footsteps echoing in the quiet house. I flip on every light as I go, flooding the rooms with warmth and light. It helps, a little. But the house is silent, too silent. The kind of silence that prickles your skin and makes your instincts scream.

Suddenly what I thought would be a good home, seems like a maze, the old wood groaning underfoot like it"s warning me. I move from room to room, my breath coming in shallow, ragged bursts. I check every closet, every nook and cranny, but find nothing. The feeling of being watched doesn't go away; it only grows stronger, wrapping around me like a cold, invisible hand.

I freeze when a flicker of movement outside catches my eye, and I run over to the window. There, in the garden, something shifts behind the bushes. My throat constricts and I grab an umbrella, unlock the back door and step outside.

The garden is a labyrinth of overgrown plants, casting long, eerie shadows in the sunlight. I take a deep breath and move cautiously, my senses on high alert.

"Who's there?" I call out, my voice a fragile thread in the air.

No answer. I move deeper into the garden, each step measured, each rustle of leaves sending my heart into overdrive. I round the corner of the house and catch another flicker of movement. Panic surges through me, and I clutch the umbrella tighter, ready to swing.

Suddenly, I sense movement behind me. Whirling around, I swing the umbrella with all my strength. It connects with something solid, and a grunt of pain cuts through my ears. I swing again, but this time, a strong hand catches the umbrella, yanking it from my grip.

I scream as we tumble to the ground, my body now pinned beneath the intruder's weight. I thrash and struggle, but he's too strong, his grip like iron. He grabs my wrists, holding them above my head. My heart races, panic and adrenaline coursing through me. I struggle against his massive frame, but it's useless. His hand is clamped over my mouth, muffling my screams, and his eyes bore into mine, intense and unyielding.

"Be quiet!" he hisses, his voice low and demanding. "I'm not going to hurt you."

My breath comes in quick, panicked gasps as I blink up at him, my vision clearing. He's well-built, his face shadowed but close enough for me to see the intensity. Tattoos snake up his arms, adding to his menacing appearance. But there's something in his gaze that makes me pause, a depth that suggests more than just a threat.

His grip loosens slightly, though he doesn't let go.

I stare into his indigo eyes, my fear slowly morphing into something else, something confusing. Despite the danger, there's an undeniable pull, a strange attraction that I can't explain. His presence is overwhelming, his proximity making my pulse race for reasons beyond fear. Something dark and primal, swirls within me.

He removes his hand from my mouth, and I gasp for air, my chest heaving. His face is close to mine, so close that I can feel his breath on my skin. His eyes search mine, raw and untamed.

I"m aware of every point of contact between us—his skin pressing down on mine, his hand gripping my wrists. The intensity sharpens into something electric, a current of desire that catches me off guard. My breath hitches, and for a moment, all I can think about is how badly I want him between my legs.

It"s irrational, crazy even, given the circumstances. But the need is there, hot and insistent, overriding my common sense. I let out an involuntary moan, arching my back until my breast brush against his chest. My eyes flick to his lips, and I silently beg for him to close the distance. For him to slake the sudden fire in me.

The stranger's gaze darkens, as if he"s reading my thoughts. He leans in closer, his lips almost brushing mine, and my heart stutters in my chest. The air is thick with tension, the world narrowing to just the two of us, trapped in this moment.

But then reality crashes back in, and I jerk.

I twist beneath him, pushing at his chest with all my strength. "Get off me," I demand, my voice trembling with a mix of fear and frustration.

He hesitates, his eyes searching mine, but then he relents. He releases my wrists with a curse and shifts his weight, allowing me to scramble out from under him. We both rise and my breath comes in harsh gasps.

We stare at each other, the air still charged with the aftermath of our collision. His expression is a mix of confusion and something deeper, something that reflects the turmoil inside me.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, attacking me like that?" I say angrily, and I'm frustrated, sexually and logically because I can't believe how easily I ignored my survival instinct for this stranger.

"Think it was you who attacked me," he rasps, his voice rough and I flush.

I swallow hard, trying to steady my racing heart. "You were trespassing," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. "This is private property."

His jaw tightens, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "You didn't seem to mind all that much," he says, his voice a low growl and he crosses his massive arms over his massive chest. "Not with the way you were arching your back and moaning in my ear."

There"s a ferocity in his words that both frightens and excites me. "Is that what I was doing?" I say, my voice trembling with the weight of my emotions.

He reaches out, his fingers brushing off a leaf stuck in my hair. "Want me to remind you?"

His words send a shiver down my spine. There's a darkness in him. It attracts me, but it shouldn't. I just had a to endure an eerie phone call and then I was practically assaulted in my own garden by a stranger.

A stranger whose touch is…to die for.