Rejected by the Heir,Claimed by the Alpha King

Inez POV:

Above me, on the cliff, Damien Kensington was shouting frantic orders to his guards. Luna's cry sliced through the wind, a sharp sound of terror that was cut short. I couldn't hear the words, but I could feel the panic in them, a distant, meaningless vibration.

Below, in the crushing cold of the sea, my body was remaking itself.

The warmth that had bloomed in my chest was a living fire, mending the organs that had been ruptured by the impact. An ancient, powerful female voice echoed in the space behind my eyes.

The bloodline will awaken. Inherit my Spirit-touched power, command life and death, know the rot and the bloom.

I felt as if I were watching a film projected onto the inside of my own skull. I saw hands—countless hands—performing miraculous medical procedures, their movements guided by knowledge far beyond my own time.

A thought surfaced, not mine but from the memories: This is the legacy of my mother's line. The Spirit-touched. A tribe long forgotten.

A faint, vine-like birthmark on my wrist began to burn, glowing with a soft green light. In the same instant, I felt a connection open in my soul—a link to an unseen space. I could feel what was inside: countless rare herbs, surgical tools, ancient books. A magical storage artifact, passed down through the bloodline.

My body stopped sinking. A gentle force lifted me, pushing me slowly toward the surface.

My eyes snapped open.

I choked, inhaling a lungful of salty water, and coughed violently.

I was alive.

The instinct to survive took over. I thrashed, my limbs weak but moving, swimming toward a hidden cove sheltered by jagged rocks. I had just enough strength to crawl onto the sand before I collapsed, shivering and soaked to the bone.

I checked myself. Bruises were already purpling my skin and I had dozens of cuts, but the fatal internal injuries... they were healing. I could feel it, a dull knitting sensation deep inside. This wasn't a dream.

My mind, unbidden, supplied a recipe for a poultice to treat the cuts. It even told me where to find the necessary herb nearby.

Dragging my exhausted body, I found the plant with its distinctive scent growing in a crevice between two rocks. I crushed it with a stone and applied the paste to my wounds. A cool, soothing sensation spread over my skin, and the stinging pain immediately subsided.

I leaned against the cold rock, the events on the cliff replaying in my mind. My expression, once lost in despair, hardened into ice.

The old Inez was dead. She had died the moment she jumped.

The person who lived now was someone new, someone who had inherited an ancient power and an endless well of hatred.

Luna. Damien. The entire Jones family that had always sided with them.

I will make you pay.

Just then, a low, pained groan cut through the sound of the waves.

I went still, holding my breath, and crept silently toward the sound.

At the mouth of a cave, hidden by a massive boulder, I saw a man.

He was lying in a pool of his own blood. His clothes, though torn and soaked, were exquisitely tailored from black fabric. He was clearly someone of high station.

He was tall, his body powerfully built even as he lay broken on the ground. Dark hair, wet with blood and seawater, was plastered to his pale forehead.

I moved closer, my heart pounding, and saw his face.

It was a face so handsome it was breathtaking, with a strong jaw and a high-bridged nose. But his lips were tinged with purple, his eyes were squeezed shut, and his brow was furrowed in agony.

The most alarming detail was on his neck. Faint, black lines, like the scales of a dragon, were visible just beneath his skin, pulsing with a malevolent energy.

The knowledge in my head supplied the answer instantly.

A Vorrath noble. And he's been poisoned with Dragonblood.

It was the most vicious poison known, a substance for which there was no known cure. It burned its victims alive from the inside out.

Except... in the flood of memories, I now possessed the one and only method to cure it.

I looked at the dying man, and a plan began to form in my mind, swift and sharp. The Jones family wanted me to marry into the Kensington house. Damien was a Kensington heir.

But what if I saved this Vorrath noble, a man who was clearly far more powerful?

Things were about to get very interesting.