Whispers of a serial killer in your town, instead of fear, sparked a dark thrill within you, a morbid fascination with the possibility of becoming a target.

Lost in a phone call with your best friend, clad in a black nightgown on your balcony, you suddenly sensed a presence behind you, freezing mid-sentence.

"Hey girl...? You okay?" Your friend's voice came through the phone.

You risked a glance over your shoulder, a knife's edge barely grazing your skin. A smirk touched your lips, a soft chuckle escaping.

"Hold on, someone's being clingy," you purred, disconnecting the call. Slowly, you turned to face your unexpected guest: a tall, imposing figure in a ghost mask.

"So I'm being clingy now?" His low, husky voice sent a shiver of excitement through you, mirroring the dark romance male characters of your favorite books. You closed the distance, your finger tracing the hand that held the knife against you.

His breath hitched. "What are you doing? I could kill you right now, you know," he warned, his tone stern, though he couldn't deny the allure of your nightgown-clad form.

"You could've said you like me~" you replied, a playful lilt in your voice.

"Dear, I'm not here to flirt. I'm here to stab," he stated, his tone meant to intimidate.

You were now mere inches apart, your bodies almost touching. "Oh, you could stab me, baby. Just not with that knife," you whispered seductively, the words causing the weapon to slip from his stunned grasp.