The Heiress Rises From The Mud

The smell of rotting garbage and copper filled her nose before she even opened her eyes.

Rain hit her face like freezing gravel. A violent tearing sensation ripped through her chest. This body did not belong to her. It belonged to an Appalachian girl who had just died.

A stray cat near her stiff fingers let out a sharp hiss. It jumped away from her hand and vanished into the heavy rain.

Anne tried to push herself up from the mud. Her arms gave out immediately. Her ribs ground together with a sickening crunch. Her lungs burned, desperate for oxygen, but her severely malnourished muscles refused to work.

She closed her eyes and searched her internal energy pool. It was empty. The ancient nature spirit inside her was completely drained. If she did not find a source of life force right now, this broken human shell would be dead in ten minutes.

A low engine rumble vibrated against the wet pavement.

Anne's heightened senses caught something else. A massive, freezing, yet incredibly intoxicating wave of dark biological energy was rolling in from the mouth of the alley.

Survival instinct took over. She bit down hard on her tongue. The sharp taste of fresh blood and the spike of pain forced her nervous system to wake up. She dragged her broken body through the mud, inching toward the streetlights.

A bulletproof Maybach sat idling at the curb. The rear door was wide open. A driver stood in the rain, arguing frantically with three men in black suits. For exactly three seconds, their defensive line broke.

Anne used the shadows of the dumpsters to hide. Through the sheets of rain, she locked her eyes on the source of the energy.

A man sat in a wheelchair right outside the open car door.

Cristofer Barrett turned his head slightly. The harsh streetlamp illuminated his pale, flawless face. His dark brows pulled together. He stared directly into the black alley, sensing the shift in the air.

The heavy pressure in his gaze made Anne's heart skip a beat. It was a fatalistic pull. But the burning need to survive crushed her fear.

The lead bodyguard turned his back to answer a static voice in his earpiece.

Anne lunged.

She exploded from the shadows. She stumbled wildly toward the wheelchair, bringing a gust of cold wind, rain, and the heavy scent of blood right into Cristofer's personal space.

Cristofer's pupils shrank to pinpricks. His paralyzed legs made it physically impossible for him to stand or dodge. He reacted with brutal efficiency, raising his large hand to crush her throat.

Anne ducked under his arm like a dying animal. She grabbed the lapels of his custom suit with both hands. She pulled herself up and smashed her freezing lips hard against his.

The second their mouths collided, a dam broke.

Thick, dark energy flooded out of his body and rushed into her dry, cracked spiritual veins. The freezing power acted like a violent stabilizer, forcing her