Page 21 of Claim of Blood (Blood Bound #1)

Chapter Eleven

Adam

The scent of fresh coffee and warm pastries drifted up from the kitchen as Adam guided Leo down the curved staircase. His hand rested possessively on the small of Leo’s back, monitoring the slight tremors still running through his hunter’s body.

The kitchen staff had already laid out the usual pre-dawn spread for the Night Court’s nocturnal residents. Through centuries of ruling his territory, Adam had learned to appreciate these quiet moments—when night bled into day and his household settled into familiar rhythms.

But tonight, something felt... off.

Leo broke away from his touch, drawn to the elaborate breakfast buffet with endearing enthusiasm. Adam’s lips curved as he watched his claim pile a plate high with eggs and pastries. The easy way Leo moved through the space, as if he belonged here, sent a surge of satisfaction through Adam’s chest.

Until he caught Lander’s scent.

His Head of House sat at the far end of the long table, coffee mug raised to his lips, dark eyes following Leo’s movements.

Lander’s scent curled in Adam’s awareness, steady and grounding.

It shouldn’t have mattered. But it did—just enough to set his teeth on edge.

Something ancient and primal reared up in Adam’s chest, an overwhelming urge to display his claim, to make it unmistakably clear that Leo was his.

The intensity of the reaction startled him.

Lander was trusted, had proven himself repeatedly over decades of service.

There was no rational reason for this visceral need to stake his territory.

Yet when Leo settled into a chair next to Lander, oblivious to the tension, Adam found himself moving with deliberate purpose.

“Good morning,” Lander offered quietly, his tone carefully neutral. The words should have been innocuous. Instead, they sent another wave of possessive need through Adam’s body.

Leo mumbled something around a mouthful of pastry, his movements still sleep-heavy.

A servant appeared moments later, placing a full plate of food before Adam, along with a steaming cup of coffee.

Adam didn’t acknowledge the gesture—he rarely did—but the timing, as always, was perfect.

He settled beside Leo, one hand falling to his thigh under the table.

The touch was possessive, maintaining contact as they ate in relative silence.

The peace lasted until Leo reached for his orange juice, his hand catching the edge of the glass. Liquid splashed across his lap, and Leo cursed softly.

“Here,” Lander said, reaching for a napkin. His movements were efficient and practical as he helped blot the spill from Leo’s sweatpants.

The sight of Lander’s hands anywhere near his claim shattered something in Adam’s control. He moved with inhuman speed, one hand around Lander’s throat, pinning him to the nearest wall. The coffee mug shattered on the floor, forgotten.

“Adam!” Leo’s startled voice barely registered through the roaring in his ears.

“Stay where you are,” Adam commanded, his voice thick with power. He didn’t look—but he felt Leo freeze behind him. The sudden stillness of prey deciding whether to flee.

Lander didn’t struggle, his body deliberately loose in Adam’s grip. Smart. Very smart. But it wasn’t enough to quell the rage burning through Adam’s veins.

“You touched what’s mine without permission,” Adam said, each word precisely weighted. His voice remained controlled even as his fangs descended. “I require an explanation.”

“I was just helping clean a spill,” Lander said carefully, his voice rough from Adam’s grip. “Nothing more.”

“Without asking my permission,” Adam growled, his fangs dropping lower. The words surprised him even as they left his mouth. Since when did his household staff need permission for such mundane tasks?

“You’re right,” Lander acknowledged. “I apologize.”

Adam’s hand tightened around Lander’s throat, confusion and rage warring inside him. “Why?” he demanded roughly. “Why do I feel this compulsion to force your submission? To establish my claim beyond any doubt?”

“I...” Lander swallowed against his hold. “I feel it. The compatibility. Not strong, but there’s a pull.”

The admission hit Adam like a physical blow. He knew those subtle pulls—he’d felt them himself over millennia. Fleeting attractions that whispered of compatibility but never quite sparked into anything serious. But this was different. This was Leo.

Adam’s fingers unclenched from Lander’s throat as he stepped back. The other vampire dropped several inches as his feet met the floor. He stumbled slightly, catching himself against the wall.

“Show me,” Adam demanded. “Make it abundantly clear that you recognize to whom he belongs.”

Understanding flickered in Lander’s eyes.

Without hesitation, he sank to his knees, then bent forward, touching his forehead to the warm hardwood floor at Adam’s feet.

The position was one of complete submission, a powerful gesture from one vampire to another.

To bare one’s neck so completely was a formal acknowledgment of absolute dominance—traditionally reserved for a vampire’s first entrance into a Court or, in the gravest circumstances, when begging forgiveness for serious transgressions.

Adam held him there with just the pressure of his gaze, satisfaction curling through him at the display. After a long moment, he felt the primal urge begin to settle.

“Adam.” Leo’s voice was soft but firm. “Let him up. Please. Our breakfast is getting cold.”

The simple domesticity of the comment cut through the remaining tension. Adam’s lips twitched despite himself. “Rise,” he commanded Lander, who smoothly returned to his feet.

As they settled back at the table, Maja and Gaspard entered, followed by human servants moving quietly to replace the shattered mug and clean the spilled coffee and juice. The two vampires loaded plates at the buffet before joining them, their movements casual but their attention sharp.

“Still no sign of the Rothenburg clan,” Maja reported, cutting into her eggs. “They’ve vanished completely.”

Leo’s fork paused halfway to his mouth, his shoulders tensing slightly. After a moment, he resumed eating, but Adam noted the mechanical nature of his movements, the way his jaw clenched with each bite.

“Perhaps we should reach out to the Hunter’s Council,” Gaspard suggested, stirring cream into his coffee. “At least determine if—”

Maja’s derisive snort cut him off. “The Courts don’t deal with the Hunter Council, Gaspard. As you well know. Let the shifter packs play their dangerous games if they must, but we maintain our distance.”

“They would speak with us,” Gaspard pointed out mildly.

“Of course they would,” Maja agreed, her tone sharp. “They’d love nothing more than to get their hooks into one of the Night Courts. Especially this one.”

Leo remained focused on his plate, but Adam could see the slight tremor in his hands as he cut his food into increasingly smaller pieces.

“What’s interesting,” Gaspard mused, “is that Claudia’s nomads report normal hunter movements in other parts of North America.”

“Same in Tokyo,” Maja added. “Bai says their local clans are maintaining their usual patterns. Even Erik’s people in Copenhagen haven’t noticed any disruption.”

“Which makes the complete disappearance from PDC rather conspicuous,” Gaspard noted. “One day they’re here, the next—nothing. No patrols, no observers, not even their usual surveillance.”

“The speed of their withdrawal concerns me,” Maja said, reaching for her coffee.

Adam let their voices wash over him, his attention divided between Leo and Lander. His Head of House had seamlessly shifted into discussing household matters with Gaspard—something about hiring new gardeners—but Adam caught the careful way Lander’s movements avoided intersecting with Leo’s space.

Leo had given up any pretense of eating, pushing a piece of sausage in diminishing circles around his plate. The shadows under his eyes looked darker in the breakfast room’s warm light.

Adam watched Leo’s tension mount with every clipped bite and every motion that didn’t quite meet the mark. He needed something—anything—to shift the atmosphere.

“Perhaps a tour,” Adam suggested, setting down his empty coffee cup. “You haven’t properly seen the house yet.”

Leo nodded, grateful for the excuse to abandon his barely touched breakfast. As they left, Adam noted how the staff gave them a wide berth, their curious glances tracking Leo’s movements. His claim seemed oblivious, lost in his own thoughts, as Adam guided him through the mansion.

They moved methodically—first the conservatory with its soaring glass ceiling, then the covered pool and manicured gardens.

Into the house proper: vast kitchens, formal and informal dining spaces, day rooms, parlors.

The gentleman’s parlor drew a flicker of interest when Leo noticed the fully stocked bar, but it passed quickly.

They continued through entertainment rooms, offices, and up to the bedroom floors.

Leo remained quiet, barely registering the opulent surroundings. It wasn’t until they paused on the landing between the second and third floors that he finally spoke.

“Why haven’t I seen anyone drink blood?” The question came abruptly. “Aren’t vampires supposed to need it to survive?”

Adam turned to face him, considering the response. “The myths—most deliberately spread—are largely false. We need both regular food and blood. Older generations need less blood, while younger ones require more. Even then, more than half of our diet is ordinary food.”

Leo frowned. “And the... drinking itself?”

“It can be like a drug, especially with compatibility. The urge can feel like a compulsion.”

“But you seem in control.”

“I’m old, beauty. I’ve had practice.” Adam’s lips curved faintly. “Though I admit, with you, it’s more challenging.”

Leo’s expression turned contemplative.