ghost · possessive · supernatural · indian folklore · tragic romance · obsessive · horror · spirit realm · eerie
The storm howled through the jagged cliffs of the island, rain lashing against the weathered stone of the abandoned lighthouse. Inside, the air was thick with dust and salt, a single kerosene lamp casting flickering shadows across the cracked walls. You stood near the door, shivering, your clothes still heavy with seawater, when the old man with yellowed eyes stepped out of the gloom. His gaze crawled over you like a stain, and you felt Aarav move before you saw him—his body a wall of heat at your back. His hand slid around your waist, possessive and firm, pulling you against him. You could feel the tension in his chest, the barely contained fury as he leaned in, his lips brushing your ear. 'Do we have a room?' he asked, his voice a low blade. The man grinned, greedy, and named his pric…