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It's Not As Bad As It Looks

Author: Bee Lynx
last update Last Updated: 2025-07-25 18:21:21
I jolt awake with a sharp gasp and heart thudding. My eyes pop open to the ceiling. The pounding headache from earlier is completely gone, like it packed up and left without so much as a goodbye.

Wait—didn't I fall? Or did the fall fix it? I can’t even remember anything. Either way, I’m alive, which is more than I expected.

Groaning, I crawl out of bed, limbs heavy like I’ve been run over by the 142 bus. I grab the bottle of water on my nightstand and down it, thinking, Cameron looked so hot last night. My eyes flick to the clock next to my lamp.

11am.

I choke, nearly spitting water all over the duvet.

“What the..!”

How? Since when? Where the hell did the entire morning go?

I blink around the room, finally registering where I am. On my bed. In my bedroom. Wearing my green pyjamas—the very ones I bought with Evelyn during that mad shopping spree where she forced me to try on fifty shades of ridiculous. I reach for my neck out of habit, and I freeze.

It’s not there. My ne
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  • Charlotte: The Fate of the White Dragon   I Love You Princess

    (Charlotte’s POV) The ceiling above me looks plain, a dull, off-white shade that just winds me up even more. I toss and turn, but sleep’s not comin’. Even the bloody crickets outside’ve knocked off for the night, and here’s me; my eyes still wide open and my mind spinning relentlessly. I dunno how long I’ve been layin’ here. Minutes? Or maybe hours? Sure feels like days. It’s too late to ring anyone. Even if I could, I’ve not even got Damon’s number. Can you believe that? He’s supposed to be my boyfriend, contract or not, and I can’t even call him! Fuck. He said he’d fetch my necklace by the end of week, but he hasn't shown up since he left the coffeehouse, and it's the weekend already. I haven't heard, not even a whisper, from him. He didn’t look right when he left, did he? He was pale and knackered. And he told me dead serious, that he couldn’t lose me. So where’s he gone? Is it somewhere dangerous? God forbid he’s...no. No, stop it, Charlotte. He’s Damon. He doesn’t just… kee

  • Charlotte: The Fate of the White Dragon   I Know Just How To Fix That

    (Damon's POV)As I pass an open doorway, somethin’ catches my eye: two silver cups on a shelf, gleamin’ in the dim room. The air in that room feels heavier somehow. It once belonged to Freya, Orlstyne's mate. Considering the door's left opened and all, he must've paid her ghost a visit. Perhaps Hades didn't change him, like Father thought; still as soft as the royal idiot he is. And I still have no idea why they do shit like that.Dead people don't talk, so it's no use killin' even. Once they're gone the fun's all over. Why live such borin' life musing over someone long gone?I step closer, the glint of the cups pulling at me. Funny, the way silver seems to hum when it catches light.Silver cups..Silver...The thought strikes like a match, and I snap my fingers. Charlotte spoke of seeing someone with silver eyes. Is she… awakening? Maybe her powers are comin’ on faster than I thought. Would it be dangerous to claim her now? I was tryna wait till she got a grip, but if she's findin'

  • Charlotte: The Fate of the White Dragon   I Wouldn't Dare If I Were You

    (Damon’s POV)It’s only been a few days since I last saw Charlotte, but it might as well be a century. I have lingered in this place long enough to keep Marquis off my back... or so I hoped. Persistent fella, that one. I wonder what she's doin' now, anyways. Probably asleep like a fuckin' Willie. I chuckle softly then feel the itch again.This maddening itch at the back of my skull, like a claw scratching from inside. I can’t reach it or soothe it, and it's been gnawing at me since I left the coffeehouse. Tried burning it out with those bastard Spards earlier, but still nothin’. It just made me more restless. The frustration's festering and my skin hums with this uneasy energy. I hear light footsteps beyond my chamber door. And already, I don't need to look to know who the culprit is before the door swings inward, without the courtesy of a knock.It's Orlstyne, obviously.“Looks like somebody’s missed me,” I utter dully, loungin’ back ’til my shoulders hit the bedframe. “To what do

  • Charlotte: The Fate of the White Dragon   Psychopath

    (One of the Gnoks, Kaida’s, POV) I’ve known the Princes since they were naught but squalling babes. Seen their first wails, their first steps, their first cuts and bruises; although most of those were courtesy of their father. King Oedyz was never the gentle sort; he raised his sons with a fist of iron and a heart colder than winter stone. Even after all these years, despite my service and my loyalty, getting close to them was like reaching for a viper’s head; possible, but you’d not live to tell the tale. They were raised in suspicion, taught from the cradle to trust no soul but their own shadow. The King made sure of that. In Spargia, hierarchy isn’t just a matter of pride, it’s the very marrow of survival. For us Variants, the surest way to secure one’s future is to be fated to a powerful mate. But fate’s a cruel dealer. You can be a beggar today and a crowned king tomorrow, and all it takes is the pull of those unbreakable threads. King Oedyz himself had the luck, or cun

  • Charlotte: The Fate of the White Dragon   What Game Are You Playin'?

    (Damon’s POV) I can’t believe Father summoned me for family dinner. That’s almost as rare as him saying please. This shit only happens when there’s an agenda. Or worse: when he’s found out something. My mind flickers briefly to my little toy, but no. There's no way he'd know about her. At least, not yet. I stride into the dining hall, hands tucked in pockets, and my steps echoing in the cavernous space. The table is filled with all kinds of delicacies, silver platters steaming, crystal gleaming. In the Adraklin household, that spread only means one thing: trouble. The only question is whose neck is on the block. Father and Mother are already seated, along with Marquis and his mate, Emma, who’s fretting as always. But Orlstyne’s absence needles at me. “Where’s Orlstyne?” I ask, takin' my seat. Mother exhales in an exaggerated scoff. “First thing you say, eh? No bow for your Father? No proper greeting? You truly need discipline, Drelduin.” “That’s enough, love,” Father says with

  • Charlotte: The Fate of the White Dragon   I'll Play It Right

    (Evelyn’s POV) He fixes those sapphire blue eyes on me. They're as clear as a winter’s dawn as he studies me with an observing look that borders on sinful. His gaze lingers, unhurried, as if he has all the time in the world and intends to spend it memorising every inch of me. My heart begins to gallop, quite against my better judgement, but I refuse to be the first to look away. Instead, I grant him a measured smile, polished, poised, but I'm sure the heat in my cheeks would ruin the effect. Those eyes do not so much as flicker from mine when, in a voice low and utterly certain, he says, “I want the crimson earrings, tucked in the far corner at the back.” How on earth did he even see them from here? I clear my throat softly. “Yes… of course.” His gaze follows me as I move, and it’s so unwavering, so intentionally penetrating, that I swear I can feel it pressing between my shoulder blades. Wrapping the order becomes an exercise in a slow and precise performance. Every motion

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