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It's Dangerous Here, Druiss
Last Updated:
2025-08-01 18:26:12
Latest chapter
Charlotte: Fated to the White Dragon Am I Being Kidnapped?
(Charlotte’s POV) I wonder how Arthur's holding up. Man, I’ve been dead worried about him since that whole bloody mess went down. I can’t stop thinking about that look on his face; he was so pale and broken up. And to make things worse, I ain’t even got a phone to check if he’s alright. Brilliant, innit? Just so fucking brilliant. I keep pacing the kitchen, every creak of the floorboards winding me tighter. I’d already told Amelia to close up the coffeehouse for a while — we all needed a breather after what happened. Still, my head’s buzzing with questions. If Arthur’s having it rough when he’s barely got his wings, then how bad must it be for the rest of 'em? With a long sigh, I grab a glass and pour myself some cold orange juice. The chill hits the back of my throat, but it doesn’t do much to cool the storm in my head. The telly’s on, and voices are mumbling through the static. One of those news panels that can’t stop running their mouths about murder cases and conspiracies.
Charlotte: Fated to the White Dragon Replace The Toy
(Orlstyne’s POV) Hmm… seems Father’s hunch was right after all — Paesnia’s crawling with all kinds of scum these days. Little rats poking their heads out where they shouldn’t. “Falkon, I’m sorry about that…” Evelyn mumbles, her voice barely audible. I lift my eyes to her, more out of politeness than curiosity. “Cam’s not usually like that. He must be stressed about the cases.” “Cases?” I ask, arching a brow, as I keep my tone casual and unbothered. She’s fidgeting with her fingers again, twisting them over and over like she’s tryna wring the nerves out of her hands. “He’s a… y’know, a cop.” I lean back in my chair with my arms folded loosely. A Variant playing at being a copper, now that’s rich. I let out a short breath filled with half amusement and half boredom. There are bigger things on my mind than her little pet officer. “He’s like a brother to me,” she adds quickly, as if that means something. I give her a faint shrug. Didn’t ask. Don’t care, but... “A brother, eh?
Charlotte: Fated to the White Dragon Something's Wrong
(Cameron’s POV) “Excuse me, Sir, can I get your order?” the lass at the counter says, in a soft tone, but she sounds miles away from where my mind’s at. My eyes are fixed on the far side of the café, and everything inside me boils at the sight of the back of an auburn haired figure. Those shoulders, and giggles: I’d know it anywhere. It's Evelyn. For a milli second, I think my eyes are playing tricks on me. But no, that’s clearly her. Laughing so softly, as she leans forward like she’s with someone she knows well. My heart sinks, then spikes, twisting into something familiar. Like seeing Charlotte with that son-of-a-bitch, Mr. Ruiz. But who’s that bloke sat across from her? He’s grinning a bit too widely, smug as fuck, and too bloody comfortable even though his eyes meet mine. He stares back for a bit, and then winks, like he already knows who I am, before looking back at Evelyn. My fists tighten, and my breath hitches as heat rushes through me. Did she screw me over? Was I not
Charlotte: Fated to the White Dragon Threat
(Cameron’s POV) Christ, my head’s a bloody mess. I can’t believe I shagged Evelyn while picturing Charlotte beneath me. What the fuck was that? Was I that pent up, that desperate for her? The guilt's killing me, but underneath it all I still feel the raw burn of lust for Charlotte. Her scent’s lodged at the back of my throat, and clawing at it. I stand there with my fingers clenched round a can of juice, as I stare blankly at the vending machine. My mind’s a whirlpool of thoughts, dragging me through every disaster of the last few days. First, it was Jupiter, then Carlstone. And now Ogothr’s vanished. They were responsible for the serial murders everywhere, which was according to plan. And someone's out there neutralising them, undoing every move we've made. But who on earth could it be? Who's even strong enough to oppose us, when we've got a number of powerful Dragons at our side? Fuck, they just had to make work harder for me, since I was supposed to be in charge of el
Charlotte: Fated to the White Dragon Things Are Getting Busier
The half-buffalo, Kaida, inches closer, as his hot breath puffs against the iron bars. I stumble back until my spine smacks the damp stone wall. He takes a long sniff, snorts once, then shifts back with a hesitation that chills me more than a roar would’ve done. “It’s a Dreil, Your Highness,” He murmurs dully, but there’s something sly curling underneath it. “Of course it is.” It?? Orlstyne replies as he lets out a laugh that scrapes across my nerves, and I shudder. “My brother would be dead chuffed to see this.” Wait, did the buffalo just call him... Your Highness? Don’t tell me... No, don’t BLOODY tell me he’s the Third Prince!! Kaida’s gaze flickers my way, and his lips curl faintly. “Should we get rid of it then?” His words drop like a stone in my gut. Already? Just like that? No hesitation, or thought whatsoever? Orlstyne’s grin stretches wider, revealing a set of whites and cruelty. “I think we should. Someone’s been a little too obsessed with his toy lately.” H
Charlotte: Fated to the White Dragon The Stranger At The Ball
"Shhh, it’s dangerous here, Druiss," Alan whispers, his voice is ragged, like he's been screaming nonstop. For a moment, I see him as he was when we first met: his nonchalant and dull self. But now, he’s frail, fading, as if the darkness itself is leeching the life out of him.Then the black all around us begins to thin slowly, pulling back like smoke blown off by a gentle breeze. New sounds creep into my ears. I hear low whimperings, muffled cries and I catch choked breaths, coughs so dry they scrape my insides. And this intense heat prickles against my skin, crawling up my arms and neck until I can barely breathe. I curl into myself.The space shapes itself before me as I glance around to get the view. It's an enormous metal cage, stretching higher than I thought a ceiling could go in all my twenty-six years. The roof’s a jungle of rusted bars and chains and some weird objects hanging above, thick as tree trunks, all locked down tight. And there’s more, something invisible, like
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