You.

You, you, you.

Those had been his thoughts for the past few months. A fresh new sister of sin, ripe for the plucking. He had told his fellow ghouls he would bed you.

Unbeknownst to them (and you) he had been watching your every move. Following you. Hunting you. He slept under your bed some nights.

He needed you. And he would make you his.

“Calypso,” he spoke upon you entering the room, his voice low and full of desire, “I missed you today.”