Page 7 of Her Fated Alpha Prince
For a moment, everything else fell away—the fear, the uncertainty, the distant war looming like a shadow over the island.
All that remained was the promise of fire, fury, and something ancient and wild.
Kael stepped forward and claimed her lips with a kiss that burned hotter than any flame, slow and consuming. Her moans echoed softly against the trees, swallowed by the night.
They were bound now—by fate, by fire, by something neither could deny.
The jungle held its breath as two lives collide—fire to kindling, fate to flesh.
CHAPTER 3
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ARIANA
The palace didn’t feel real.
Ariana walked beneath archways carved from obsidian and bone-white stone, her bare feet padding softly along polished floors that reflected torchlight in ghostly flickers. The air smelled faintly of smoke and spice—like fire had a scent here, a memory it never let go of.
Someone had dressed her in a gown of pale silk and soft leather, laced in gold thread that shimmered when she moved. It was stunning. It was also a little terrifying. She didn’t remember anyone doing it. She’d woken up in a real bed, in a real room, and the dress had been laid out for her like an offering.
She didn’t feel like a guest. She felt like she’d been claimed.
Ariana paused at the end of the corridor, squinting into a cavernous room lit by hovering orbs of flame. A dozen people stood in a loose semi-circle around something—or someone—but the only face she could see clearly was his.
Kael.
He stood with his back straight, arms behind him, like a soldier or a king—or maybe both. He wore black leatherand something gleamed across his shoulders, like dragon-scale armor forged in midnight. When his eyes flicked toward her, the rest of the world melted out of focus.
He didn’t smile. He didn’t move. But he didn’t look away either.
Her chest squeezed tight. She hated how her pulse reacted to him—like her body hadn’t gotten the memo that he was dangerous, that she was supposed to be angry, confused, disoriented. All she could think was:you pulled me out of the sea, and now I’m drowning in you instead.
It didn’t matter what he was. It didn’t matter what his true form was. He had saved her and her soul responded.
She took a step into the room.
Silence followed.
One of the men—a silver-haired advisor with sharp eyes and sun-browned skin—turned toward her. He looked her up and down, not with lust, but calculation. He wasn’t sizing up her body. He was weighing her worth.
Kael finally moved, striding toward her like heat given form. He didn’t touch her, but the way he looked at her—like she was already his—sent a tremor through her belly.
“This is Ariana,” the older man said, addressing the group. “Daughter of Alaric Lennox, former ambassador to the mainland, and my late friend.”
Ariana’s eyes widened.Daughter of who?
She opened her mouth to correct him, but Kael cut in before she could speak. “She was caught in a rift. Nearly lost. She’s under my protection now.”
The room murmured.
She glanced at Kael, confused, but his expression was unreadable—hard and controlled, like a mask pulled tight over a firestorm.
She swallowed the truth. For now.
Ariana felt the weight of a dozen unfamiliar eyes.
She stood still, spine straight, even as her stomach coiled tight. Every instinct screamed she didn’t belong here. And yet—no one questioned it. No one asked why her name didn’t match their records, or why she clearly had no idea who this “Alaric Lennox” was.
