Page 33 of Claim of Blood (Blood Bound #1)

“Hunting isn’t optional for our generation,” Lander continued when Oren merely grunted. “We can’t all be Adam, gliding through eternity on sheer stubbornness and ancient magic. One needs their vitamin D, after all.”

Leo snickered, earning a brief look of approval from Lander. Oren’s response was more subtle—the corner of his mouth twitched in what might have been the ghost of a smile, or possibly mild digestive distress. With Oren, it was impossible to tell.

Another grunt, this one slightly more concessive. “Tonight.”

“Good,” Leo found himself saying, surprising both vampires and himself with the authority in his voice. “The Court needs its Head of Security at full strength. Especially now.” He gestured at the darkened screens, where evidence of their security breach waited to be examined.

Something flickered across Oren’s usually impassive face, perhaps approval—or maybe just acknowledgment of Leo’s unexpected shift from a claimed human to an active Court member. He reached for the controls, and the screens around them flared to life.

“Find anything?” Leo asked, moving closer.

“No.” The word carried layers of frustration beneath its neutral delivery. “Feed was looped. Professional work.” A pause, then, with the barest hint of grudging respect, “Almost missed it.”

Leo leaned in. “Show me the adjacent camera feeds. And the timing of the loop.” He glanced at Oren. “Hunters work in patterns. Even when they think they’re being unpredictable.”

Something shifted in Oren’s expression—not quite approval, but recognition. His fingers flew across the keyboard, and the monitors brought up multiple angles of the garden. The security feeds painted a digital tapestry of the estate grounds.

“There,” Leo pointed to a subtle flutter in one of the images. “That’s not wind. The trees are moving differently in the background.” He traced the pattern across several screens. “They weren’t just looping one camera. They were cascading the effect across the whole sector.”

“Clever,” Oren murmured, the single word heavy with implications.

Lander had drifted closer, watching the exchange with growing interest. Leo could feel the weight of his attention, steady and curious.

“We need to revise the entire surveillance grid,” Leo said, the words coming naturally.

“Not just upgrade—completely rethink it. Hunters expect vampires to rely on technology.” He studied the garden layout.

“The addition of shifter patrols helps. But my clan didn’t know about your alliance with the coven.

” He traced a line along the property’s edge on one of the screens.

“Emilia could set wards around Innsbrook. Early warning systems that would react to hunter-specific equipment. No one expects vampires to work with witches.”

“The wards would complement the existing security,” Leo continued. “Shifters can smell intruders, cameras can track them—but magic? Magic could tell us their intentions before they even cross the threshold.”

“Interesting.” The word rolled from Oren’s lips like a stone dropped in still water. His dark eyes fixed on Leo with newfound intensity. “Complications?”

“None I can think of,” Leo admitted. “Though I’m not sure what the coven would want in exchange.”

“Information,” Oren said, pulling up a new set of files.

“Someone’s been hitting their warehouses in the Third Cat.

The coven’s been petitioning the Court for vampire patrols.

” His fingers traced a pattern of incidents across the district map.

“We haven’t established a regular patrol presence outside Innsbrook since the nineteen-eighties. Not since the mob war.”

Leo straightened, feeling pieces click into place. “I can talk to Adam about it. A joint venture—wards in exchange for patrols. It benefits everyone.”

The silence that followed was heavy. Leo looked up to find both vampires watching him with peculiar expressions—Oren’s usual mask touched with something almost like approval, while Lander’s face had softened into an open smile.

“What?” Leo asked, heat creeping up his neck.

“It’s good,” Lander said quietly, “seeing you step into your role so naturally.”

The blush deepened. “Do I have the right to? I mean, suggesting Court policy...” The words trailed off as uncertainty crept in. He was a hunter—former hunter—who’d been here barely two weeks. What business did he have making decisions about vampire politics?

“Yes,” Oren said. “You stand second only to Adam now. His claim makes you his equal in Court matters.”

The words punched the air from Leo’s lungs. Equal in Court matters. The realization crept through him.

“I’m sorry—what?” His voice came out higher than he intended. “But I’m not even a vampire. I was a hunter two weeks ago, and now you’re telling me I outrank beings who’ve been alive for centuries?”

“The servants,” Leo said suddenly, another piece clicking into place. “The way they look at me—some with curiosity, others with...” He paused, recalling the disdainful expressions. “They think I don’t deserve it.”

“Some will,” Oren confirmed with blunt honesty. “Others will accept it. Your actions will decide which camp grows larger.”

Leo raked a hand through his hair, feeling the enormity of it press against his chest. “I don’t know anything about vampire law, or Court traditions, or basic protocol. How am I supposed to be anyone’s equal when I don’t even understand the rules?”

“You learn,” Lander said simply. “And you rely on advisors who do.” His expression grew more serious. “But Leo—this isn’t just about rank. Adam’s claim doesn’t just make you his equal. It makes you his potential successor. If something happened to him...”

The implication hung in the air. Leo felt the blood drain from his face. “I would what, inherit the Court?”

“The Court would likely fracture,” Oren said matter-of-factly. “But yes, you’d have the strongest claim to leadership. That’s why your suggestions matter. The Court needs to see you can think beyond immediate problems.”

Leo sank back against the desk, the responsibility settling over him like lead. A week ago, his biggest worry had been avoiding Adam’s attention. Now he was apparently second-in-command of a supernatural powerhouse with global reach.

“This is insane,” he muttered. He looked up at both vampires. “You’re serious? I’m actually expected to help run this place?”

“You already are,” Lander said gently. “The ward suggestion, the tactical analysis—you’re not just offering advice, Leo. You’re providing counsel that could save lives.”

Underneath the panic, something else stirred. Purpose. For the first time, his knowledge was valued for protecting supernatural creatures rather than destroying them.

“I should probably start learning, then,” he said finally, his voice steadier than he felt.

“Among other things,” Oren agreed. “But you have time. And teachers.” His lips quirked in what might have been a smile. “Adam chose well.”

“Chose,” Leo muttered under his breath. “More like compulsion, really.”

If either vampire heard him, they didn’t comment, though Lander’s mouth twitched as he turned toward the door.

Lander dipped his head in farewell to Oren, then guided Leo out. “No music,” he noted as they walked. “A good sign. Perhaps we’ve caught him before he fully committed to brooding.”

They were halfway up the sweeping staircase when the cat shifter from earlier passed them, his arms laden with fresh linens. The simple act of his passing triggered that same strange awareness in Leo—the absolute certainty of what the man was beneath his human appearance.

“Lander,” Leo began, pausing on the steps, “earlier, when Cory came into Oren’s office... I knew what he was. Not just that he was a shifter—specifically, a cat shifter. I could feel it somehow.” He frowned, trying to explain. “Like recognizing someone’s voice without seeing their face.”

Lander’s steps slowed, his expression thoughtful. “Interesting. That’s usually a trait of older vampires—something that comes with centuries of life, regardless of generation. It’s believed to be blood-sense, though no one’s researched it much.”

“But I’m not a vampire,” Leo pointed out, resuming their climb.

“No,” Lander agreed, a smile playing at his lips, “but Adam is. And claims share gifts, particularly strong ones. It seems you’re not just gaining his immortality—but some of his other abilities as well.”

The implications settled over Leo like a weighted blanket. “What else might I gain?”

“That,” Lander said as they reached the second-floor landing, “is an excellent question. I’m afraid I don’t know.”

They approached Adam’s office, where the sound of his voice carried through the partially open door. He was deep in conversation about financial reports and inflation adjustments, but the moment Leo stepped inside, Adam’s eyes lifted to find him.

Something electric passed between them—immediate and undeniable. Not just recognition, but a pull that thrummed under Leo’s skin, hot and unsettling. It was as if Adam had reached out and closed a hand around something inside him.

Leo’s heart beat a little faster. He didn’t know if he was more afraid of losing himself to that connection, or of how badly he already wanted to.

As he sank into the cushions, he tried to tell himself this was only about the bond. That the way Adam’s gaze made him feel—seen, claimed, known—wasn’t changing him into something he no longer recognized.

He wasn’t sure he believed it.