Page 1 of Her Fated Alpha Prince (Royal Dragons of Blackwater Islands #1)

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ARIANA

The wheels of her suitcase clicked against polished marble, each sound echoing too loudly through the luxury resort lobby. Every turn reminding her—she was alone.

She wasn’t supposed to check in solo. Not at a five-star island resort where couples posed under palm trees and shared cocktails with names like "Love on the Reef.

" She was supposed to be draped over Dylan’s arm, smiling like every other woman who got whisked away for sun-drenched sex and lazy mornings tangled in hotel sheets.

Hopefully he will be here soon.

Her friends had practically shoved her onto the plane, telling her to “make the best of it” and “turn this into a self-love trip.” She hated that phrase. Self-love sounded like something a therapist or a vibrator manual would say.

Still, here she was, checking in with a tight smile and a bright floral sundress she had absolutely bought for someone else's benefit.

The resort attendant handed her a keycard and a coconut drink with a red flower in it. “Welcome to Silverwater Island, Miss Lennox. We hope your stay is magical.”

Magical. That was one word for it.

“Thank you,” Ariana said with a polite node.

“This way, Miss Ariana.” The receptionist guided her toward the elevator.

Ariana headed toward the rooms, pulling her heavy luggage bags. As soon as the doors closed behind her, the false smile cracked. Her shoulders sagged. Her fingers dug into the suitcase handle.

Two years with Dylan. She should’ve seen it coming. The slow replies. The missed dates. That vague shift from my girlfriend to Ariana when introducing her at events. He hadn’t brought her flowers in months. Hell, he barely brought himself.

She stepped into her suite—and gasped.

Floor-to-ceiling windows revealed a panoramic view of turquoise waves crashing into white sand. A private plunge pool glittered on the balcony. She could even see a little stretch of coral reef below.

She dropped her bag and walked straight to the edge, pressing her palms to the glass. The sea stretched out forever, glittering under the sun like scattered diamonds.

She unlocked her phone and hit the video call button. She’d been missing Dylan the entire trip.

It rang. And rang.

No answer. The call ended, and his last message lit up her screen again:

Dylan: Can’t make it. Big celeb event just came up. You understand, babe. I owe you.

No phone call. No FaceTime. Just a lazy, impersonal brush-off sent while she was literally boarding her flight.

For the first time since Dylan’s text, her chest eased. Maybe this didn’t have to be a complete disaster. Maybe she didn’t need anyone to make this trip beautiful.

Not him. Not anyone.

Then again, she hadn’t seen the island’s deeper shadows. Not yet.

Ariana slipped into the electric blue bikini she’d packed on a dare—the one she told herself she’d never actually wear. It clung to her curves, tied high on the hips, barely covering anything in the back. Her heart beat a little faster as she looked in the mirror.

Too much? Maybe. But it was too late.

She reached for the sheer white sarong and wrapped it low around her waist, fingers lingering at the knot a second too long. It didn’t hide much. That was the point.

Her chest tightened. She didn’t feel bold. Not really.

But screw it.

If she was going to be alone on this damn island, she could at least look dangerous. Sexy. Unbothered.

Hot and alone was still better than forgotten and invisible.

She lifted her chin, squared her shoulders, and walked out the door like she didn’t have a single thing to prove.

She headed down toward the beach where her friends were waiting. Three of them had flown in from L.A., full of wine and wisdom and enough pushiness to keep her from sulking in her room.

“God, finally!” Mia waved her arms from a cluster of sunbeds. “We thought you were going to ghost us and spend the whole day doom scrolling Dylan’s socials.”

“I considered it,” Ariana said as she kicked off her sandals and collapsed onto a lounger. “But then I figured, why stalk a man who’s already ghosted me?”

The girls cackled.

“That’s the spirit,” said Jess, passing her a tall glass of something with pineapple and too much rum. “You get five hours to cry over that walking haircut, and then we’re moving on to healing through hot locals and salty water.”

“You really think there are hot locals?” Ariana asked, sipping the drink. It hit her instantly—syrupy, strong, and way too easy to swallow.

Jess smirked. “You’re on a private island, babe. Someone has to deliver room service.”

Ariana laughed, for real this time. The ocean breeze tugged playfully at her hair, and the sun warmed every inch of her skin.

There was something about this place—wild, a little untouched—that felt…

different. Not like the overdeveloped beaches she’d seen before.

Something quieter pulsed here beneath the surface. Alive.

“Tomorrow,” Mia declared, sliding her sunglasses up, “we’re doing the paddleboarding thing. You in?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Not if you want to keep your best friend status.”

Ariana raised her glass in mock surrender. “Fine. But if I fall off and get eaten by a shark, I’m haunting you.”

They spent the next hour lounging, gossiping, dipping into the warm waves.

For the first time since her breakup, Ariana forgot to check her phone.

She even started to believe maybe this island really was magic.

Not in the glitter-and-fairies way, but in the ancient, whisper-through-the-trees, watch-your-step kind of way.

When the sun started to dip low, painting the sky with soft amber and gold, she wandered off alone, walking barefoot down a sandbar that curved out like a pale finger into the sea.

The water was warm, the wind salt-sweet. Her thoughts softened, a strange calm rising inside her—until something flashed in the distance, snapping her back to alertness.

Something shimmered beneath the surface—just for a second and then it was gone. She blinked, squinting out over the waves. “Probably a fish,” she muttered, but her gut said otherwise. That eerie prickle crept along her spine—the kind that said someone was watching. Except... no one was there.

The wind started blowing faster.

She turned, one hand shielding her eyes as she glanced back toward the resort. The resort was farther than she remembered—too far. She hadn’t meant to walk this far out on the sandbar, and now the tide was crawling in, rising with an almost sentient determination.

She spun back around—and gasped.

The shimmer was there again. But this time, it wasn’t beneath the water. It was in the water. A ripple that didn’t move like the rest of the waves. A smooth rise and fall. Dark. Long. Intentional.

She took a step back. The sand beneath her toes squelched, water sucking at her heels.

Then one more flash but closer this time and she couldn’t look away.

Suddenly, the ocean roared—louder than it had all day—and a wave surged from nowhere, slamming into her knees with a force that knocked her off balance.

She stumbled, arms pinwheeling, as the weight of water yanked her sideways.

She hit the surf with a gasp, her head dipping under before she could breathe in.

The sea was cold beneath the surface, not warm like before. And it moved strangely. Like it wasn’t just water anymore.

Something brushed her ankle.

Her lungs seized. She kicked out wildly, trying to find the sand—but it was gone. She had stepped too far, and the drop-off was steeper than she realized. The current tugged at her legs, not like waves but arms —like something wanted her deeper.

Her head broke the surface for a second. She opened her mouth, but no sound came—only water and panic.

Another wave crashed over her, salt slamming into her mouth and nose.

Then came the tug.

Not a wave this time. Not an undertow. A grip. Something wrapped around her waist and yanked.

Her vision blurred, sound muffled. Her limbs thrashed, but the pull was relentless—downward, into darkness.

Then—

Silence.

Stillness.

*

When her eyes opened, the world was green. Sunlight streamed through thick, broad leaves, casting golden flecks over everything. Warm. Alive. Unreal.

She lay on something soft—moss? or grass maybe? Her hair clung to her shoulders. Her limbs ached.

She was breathing. She was… alive.

And dry.

She jolted upright with a gasp, her heart pounding like it was trying to escape her chest.

This wasn’t the beach. No crashing waves, no resort sounds, no stretch of sunbeds and umbrellas. She was in a forest.

Breathing hard, she scanned her surroundings. Trees towered overhead, vines thick and twisted, flowers she couldn’t name blooming in impossible colors. Bird calls echoed in the distance—sharp, unfamiliar. The air smelled damp and rich, like earth after thunder.

Nothing made sense to her. She was trying to figure out where she was.

While she scanned around, her eyes landed on a shadow that moved behind the trees. Her breath stopped for a few seconds, and her body trembled.

He stepped forward. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Half-concealed by the foliage, his body motionless but not hidden.

She froze, every instinct screaming. Run? Hide? Scream? Her body refused to decide—too locked in the sheer presence of him.

He was… beautiful. Not in the polished, Hollywood way Dylan had been, but wild . Built like myth. Shirtless, skin gleaming in patches of sun. Dark hair fell just past his jaw.

His eyes— They glowed.

Not a trick of light. They glowed .

She opened her mouth.

She opened her mouth—but his voice cut through first, low and rough, like gravel kissed by flame.

“You’re not supposed to be here.”