Page 23 of Claim of Blood (Blood Bound #1)

The descent to his office felt longer than usual, each step drawing him farther from Leo.

Conversation still clung to him like a burr—Leo’s accusations, his own promises, the truths neither of them could deny.

A need to turn back gnawed at him, an instinct as steady as breath.

Instead, he pressed his palm to the embedded console outside the office door, fingers tapping out a terse summons.

Come to the study.

He didn’t sit. He stood at the window, watching sunlight etch thin bands of gold across the estate’s eastern lawn. Even here, he could feel Leo upstairs—an awareness threaded through his senses like a second heartbeat. The bond tugged at him, a constant, low-level pull that demanded his attention.

And yet he had to go.

The acquisition of the Belgian firm had dragged on for months—delicate negotiations, contractual labyrinths, the usual egos that bristled when an immortal tried to buy them out.

The Belgian team had flown into Porte du Coeur that morning, and courtesy—as much as optics—demanded his presence in the boardroom, not his bedroom.

The door opened without a sound. Lander’s scent arrived first—juniper, stone, a trace of fresh linen. Adam didn’t turn immediately. He watched the slow crawl of morning across the grass and tried to quiet the frustration tightening his chest.

“You wanted to see me?”

Adam turned. Some of the heat of their breakfast confrontation had faded, but something else remained. A resonance he didn’t trust. A pull he hadn’t asked for.

He pushed it down.

Opening the drawer in his desk, he retrieved the ring. Leo’s ring. The von Rothenburg crest gleamed dully under the office lights—a symbol of everything Adam needed to sever Leo from. Generations of blood-soaked doctrine and brittle legacy.

“Have it melted,” he said, holding it out. “Forge something new. A scarab at the center—onyx, if possible. Inset the ruby here.”

Lander took the ring without hesitation, turning it between his fingers. His touch was professional, but Adam still caught the faint shift in his scent—curiosity, perhaps a flicker of understanding.

“A gold snake circling it,” Adam continued. “Sapphire eyes.”

Lander looked up, expression neutral but observant. “A sigil?”

“A seal,” Adam corrected. “An old one of mine. From when such things still held weight.”

He turned back to the window. Light caught in his reflection, highlighting the faint gold in his eyes. “I haven’t used it in centuries.”

Not since Rome burned. Not since Helena’s death. The memory rippled through him—sharp and fleeting, like a blade drawn across old scar tissue.

Lander studied the ring a moment longer, then slid it into his pocket. “I’ll see it done.” He hesitated. “A seal with your mark. His stone. A claim made physical.”

Adam didn’t confirm it. Lander had served him long enough to understand the significance without explanation.

“I’ll be gone for several days,” Adam said. He turned back, meeting Lander’s gaze fully. “Nocturne is finalizing the acquisition. I’m expected to oversee the last phase of negotiations.” He paused. “I want Leo watched. Protected. Quietly.”

He hated that it had to be Lander. Hated more that some part of him wanted it to be.

“You’re the only one I trust with this,” he continued, the admission leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. “Maja would watch him like a potential threat. Gaspard would treat him like an honored guest, but miss the subtleties. Oren would guard him flawlessly, but offer no companionship.”

Lander’s brows lifted just a fraction. “And you think I’ll offer both.”

It wasn’t a question.

Adam inclined his head. “I know you will.”

The quiet that followed pressed against him like a weight. He could feel Lander considering the unspoken implications—what it meant to stand as the shield between Leo and every threat, and what it meant to be the one Leo would see most in Adam’s absence.

“If anything touches him—if he’s hurt—I’ll feel it,” Adam said, his voice low. The old power crept into his tone. “And I will hold you accountable.”

“You have my word,” Lander said simply. His pulse didn’t change. “The compatibility is minimal, Adam. Nothing like what you share with him.”

Adam’s jaw tightened. He hadn’t expected Lander to name it so bluntly. “You felt it at breakfast.”

“I did.” Lander’s tone was respectful, but even. “A whisper, nothing more.”

For a moment, neither spoke. The pull between them—faint, thin as spider silk—felt like a trespass he hadn’t invited. Had it always been there? Or had something about the claiming awakened it?

Adam turned back to the window before the question could root deeper. “I’ve left instructions with Maja. The renovation contracts for the east garden will need your approval. Gaspard will manage the social calendar.”

“Understood.”

“And Leo?”

Adam exhaled slowly. “Let him explore. Answer his questions. Keep him safe.” A beat passed. “Help him understand what this place is—and what I am.”

Lander nodded. “I’ll have the new seal ready soon.”

Adam didn’t watch him leave. He stood at the window long after the door clicked shut, letting sunlight pour across the polished floor. Upstairs, he felt Leo moving—restless, uncertain.

A week of negotiations waited. Seven days of distance neither of them wanted.

But patience had always been his sharpest blade. If Leo was to choose to stay—truly stay—it had to be his choice. As much as the bond would ever allow.

Adam rested his palm against the window, feeling the morning’s thin warmth. Then he turned, gathering the files he needed.

The sooner he left, the sooner he could come home.