Page 13 of Claim of Blood (Blood Bound #1)

Chapter Eight

Adam

Adam cradled Leo against his chest, tongue giving one last pass over the sealed bite marks.

The sight of his claim sent a fresh surge of satisfaction through him—deeper than simple possession, more primal than ownership.

Something had shifted inside him during the claiming, something he didn’t fully understand yet.

It wasn’t concern that twisted in his chest when he thought of potential threats to Leo.

The idea that his hunter might be in danger was laughable.

No one in his Court would dare touch what was his.

He would tear apart any outside threat before it reached his doorstep.

No, this feeling was something else entirely—something that made his skin feel too tight, made him want to bare his teeth at shadows.

The bond hummed between them, alive and electric, and with it came urges he’d never experienced in five millennia of existence.

An almost feral need to show what he’d claimed, to make others witness what belonged to him.

The instinct was so foreign, so unlike his usual controlled nature, that it should have alarmed him.

Instead, it felt right.

Even before he could hear footsteps, he sensed their approach—a change in weight, the slightest movement of air.

The scent hit next: crisp linen, juniper and stone aftershave, that careful restraint that was uniquely Lander’s.

Adam’s nostrils flared, and something dark and possessive unfurled in his chest.

He wanted Lander to see.

The realization should have disturbed him. Adam had never been one for exhibition, had always preferred privacy in his intimate moments. But now, with Leo’s warm weight against him, with the scent of sex and blood thick in the air, the need to display what he’d done was overwhelming.

He wanted Lander to look at Leo’s throat and know what it meant.

To see the curve of his hunter’s bare body molded against him, the evidence of their coupling, the scent of blood and submission clinging to every inch of him.

The instinct wasn’t about arousal—it was about territory.

About planting a flag in skin and scent, no one could mistake.

Leo shifted against him, letting out a soft, wrecked noise that went straight to Adam’s cock. His grip tightened instinctively as he sensed rather than saw Lander’s approach slow, the younger vampire’s careful composure faltering.

Good. Let him be affected. Let him understand exactly what he was walking into.

“Maja sent these,” Lander announced, stopping just out of reach. His voice was steady, professional, but Adam caught the slight tension beneath it. A bundle of folded clothes rested in his arms, held out like an offering. “She thought you might need them.”

Adam’s laugh rumbled through his chest, low and rich. Leo pressed closer at the sound, the movement sending another surge of possessive satisfaction through him. “She always was practical.”

“No one else wanted to come near a newly mated pair,” Lander added, his tone carefully neutral despite the flush creeping up his neck. “As the only one with experience dealing with blood compatibility, I drew the short straw.”

The words hit Adam like a revelation. Of course. Lander’s parents—Johan and Elisabeth—had been one of the rare compatible pairs in recent memory. No wonder Maja had sent him. No wonder he seemed to understand the strange territorial urges coursing through Adam’s veins.

“Put the clothes on the table,” Adam ordered, his voice dipping into something darker than he intended. “Then sit.”

He gestured to the armchair across from them and felt a spike of something almost predatory when Lander hesitated a breath before obeying.

The younger vampire placed the bundle down with careful precision, then lowered himself into the chair with the controlled grace of someone who knew they were being watched.

Only once seated did Lander lift his eyes to Adam’s, and in that moment, Adam saw understanding there. Recognition of what was happening, even if neither of them fully understood why.

“This need to display,” Lander said, his tone careful but not judgmental. “It’s instinct, isn’t it?”

Adam’s fingers dug into Leo’s thigh in response, possessive and slow.

The question hit something primal in him, something that wanted to bare teeth and growl mine at anyone who dared look too closely.

Yet paradoxically, he also wanted them to look.

Wanted them to see exactly what he’d claimed and how thoroughly he’d done it.

“Yes,” Adam said, studying Lander’s face for any sign of judgment. “Though I don’t understand why.” His gaze sharpened. “Exhibition has never been a preference of mine… until now.”

The admission felt like exposing a vulnerability, but the bond thrummed with approval. Leo stirred against him, and Adam felt his gradual return to consciousness in the slow tension gathering in his body. He could smell Leo’s confusion, the sharp spike of mortification as awareness flooded back.

The yelp that escaped Leo’s throat was exactly what Adam expected, as was his instinctive attempt to cover himself.

“No.”

The growl ripped from Adam’s throat before he could temper it.

Low and territorial. Leo froze instantly, his body going pliant in a way that sent a rush of satisfaction through Adam like a drug.

He could smell the confusion radiating from his hunter—sharp, tangled with humiliation and, beneath it all, arousal.

“What the actual fuck?” Leo whispered, voice hoarse with sleep and something else. “Why did I just comply?”

Adam’s hand flexed possessively on his thigh. “Because you’re mine.”

Lander’s quiet laugh drew both their attention. “Blood compatibility is complicated.” His gaze dipped to Leo’s feet, still absurdly laced into shoes. Something shifted in his expression. “Those look ridiculous in your current position. Would you like me to—?”

“Yes.”

The word was out before Adam could stop it, another instinct he didn’t fully understand. It made no sense, and yet it burned behind his ribs like hunger.

But as Lander started to rise, something darker unfurled in Adam’s chest. The need to display, to control, to make this moment exactly what he wanted it to be.

“From between his thighs.”

Lander blinked, composure slipping for a moment. Adam felt Leo tremble, caught between mortification and something dangerously close to anticipation.

“I don’t understand it either,” Adam said, his tone rough with frustration. “But I need you to see.”

A pause stretched—heavy, charged—before Lander spoke. “I know,” he said, and moved to kneel between Adam’s spread knees.

The sight of Lander in that position—the careful way he reached for Leo’s shoes, the deliberate avoidance of looking anywhere but the task at hand—fed something hungry in Adam’s chest. Leo’s breathing had gone shallow, his fingers clenching against Adam’s thigh as Lander’s hands worked at the laces.

Adam felt the moment Lander’s gaze drifted lower. The way Leo’s body went rigid, the sharp inhale, the futile attempt not to react to being so thoroughly exposed while still impaled on Adam’s cock.

But he was reacting. The evidence was impossible to hide—the mess between his thighs, the way Adam’s cum still slicked his entrance, the flush that crept up his chest. Embarrassment poured off him in waves, tangy and hot, mingling with an arousal so thick Adam could taste it.

The combination was intoxicating. Leo’s helpless response, Lander’s careful control fraying at the edges, the scent of sex and submission heavy in the air.

Adam’s cock throbbed inside Leo, and he felt his hunter’s involuntary answer—the sweet tension blooming again as the bond reminded him how thoroughly he’d been claimed.

Yes . This was right. This was what he needed, even if he didn’t understand why.

“Explain,” Adam said, voice low.

Lander sighed, hands moving to the second foot with practiced efficiency. “I can only speak from what I observed with my parents.” A faint, rueful smile tugged at his mouth. “Who, as you remember, scandalized half of Europe with their... enthusiasm.”

Adam remembered. Johan and Elisabeth’s compatibility had been unheard of—a second-generation pair who’d found each other by chance during the millennial gathering Erik and Francois arranged in 1800. Their connection had been immediate, overwhelming, and utterly shameless.

“They couldn’t keep their hands off each other,” Lander continued, tossing aside the second sock but remaining kneeling where Adam wanted him. “And they seemed to prefer an audience, much to everyone’s dismay. Especially Francois.”

A ghost of amusement flickered through Adam’s possessive haze.

Francois de Montfort had always been the prude of their family, his letters of complaint a source of endless entertainment.

Adam remembered writing back from America, bluntly suggesting he stop being such a stuffed shirt. That had been John Warren’s influence.

“Francois eventually banished them to Erik’s court,” Lander said.

“Erik just... adapted. Had a few rooms soundproofed.” His expression turned thoughtful.

“It took about a decade for the displays to calm down, though ‘calm’ is relative. I left for your court as soon as I could. There’s only so many times a child can walk in on their parents rutting against the kitchen counter. ”

The frank admission drew a low, surprised laugh from Adam. Born vampires were vanishingly rare—Lander was only the third in history, and the first born to second-generation parents. His childhood must have been uniquely complicated.

As Lander rose, something primitive and feral surged through Adam. Not a decision, but a reflex as natural as breathing.

“Kneel.”