Page 36 of Claim of Blood (Blood Bound #1)

Chapter Eighteen

Adam

Over/Under stood as a testament to PDC’s layered nature, its three distinct floors catering to different appetites and desires.

The ground-floor restaurant gleamed with chrome and glass, touch-screen menus embedded in sleek tables while efficient servers navigated between them with practiced grace.

Above, the lounge stretched out in modern sophistication, floor-to-ceiling windows offering sweeping views of Washington Avenue’s evening bustle.

But it was the basement that held Adam’s attention, the true heart of Over/Under, where supernatural energy pulsed beneath human feet like a secret heartbeat.

He found her at their usual corner table, platinum hair gleaming under the subtle lighting that played across exposed brick walls. The space around her held that particular emptiness that spoke of a predator’s presence, other patrons unconsciously giving her a wider berth than strictly necessary.

“Daughter,” he said softly, settling into the chair across from her. A crystal glass of bloodwine already waited for him.

“Father.” Her tone was perfectly neutral, neither warm nor cold. “I trust your day was productive?”

And so it began—the careful dance of words that centuries together had perfected. Adam took a measured sip of his drink, letting the familiar warmth spread across his tongue. “Quite. Though I found myself missing your insight during the Stockholm briefing.”

Something flickered in her ice-blue eyes. “I sent my analysis beforehand. The data was clear.”

“The data, yes.” Adam set his glass down with deliberate care. “But data without context is just numbers on a screen. You taught me that, if you recall.”

Her fingers tightened fractionally around her own glass. “Did I? How fascinating that you remember such things, given your recent distractions.”

And there it was—the first crack in her careful facade. Adam leaned back, studying the daughter who had stood beside him through centuries of change. “Ask me, Maja. Whatever questions are burning behind those eyes, ask them.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” The words burst forth like water through a breaking dam. “A claim bond isn’t some minor corporate hire. It’s not something to be handled through official channels after the fact. I deserved to know before—” She stopped herself, pressing her lips together.

“Before I gave a hunter that level of access to our world?” Adam finished gently. “Before I trusted someone who represents everything we’ve fought against for millennia?”

“Before I gave a hunter that level of access to our world?” Adam finished gently. “Before I trusted someone who represents everything we’ve fought against for millennia?”

“Before you replaced me.” The words echoed with raw hurt, loud enough that nearby conversations stuttered to a halt.

Maja closed her eyes, visibly gathering composure.

When she spoke again, her voice was barely a whisper.

“I’ve stood beside you for centuries. I’ve helped build Nocturne from the ground up.

I’ve been your right hand in everything. And now...”

“And now you think I’m casting you aside for a pretty face and an unexpected bond?” Adam reached across the table, catching her hand before she could withdraw. “Oh, my brilliant, terrible child. Is that what you truly believe?”

Her fingers trembled in his grip. “You look at him differently than you’ve ever looked at any of us.

Even Oren.” She took a shuddering breath.

“I’ve never seen you like this. Possessive.

Almost... threatening when anyone questions him.

It’s not just about the claim, is it? You’re different with him. ”

“I am,” Adam acknowledged. Lies had never served either of them.

“And that terrifies me,” Maja continued, her voice gaining strength as the words poured out.

“Because I don’t know what that means for us.

For me.” Her eyes met his, vulnerability replacing her usual cool composure.

“Will you still come to me when you need to think through a problem? Will we still have our late-night strategy sessions? Or will Leo be the one you confide in now?”

Adam’s chest tightened at the raw fear in her voice. “Maja...”

“I don’t know what I’m going to lose,” she pressed on, her control finally cracking.

“That’s what makes this so frightening. For a millennium, I’ve been the one you trusted with everything.

Your thoughts, your plans, your doubts. I’ve been your confidant, your advisor, your—” She gestured helplessly.

“And now there’s someone who could be all of that and more.

Someone who shares your bed and your bond and your—”

“Stop.” Adam’s voice was firm but gentle. “You think Leo will take your place as my confidant?”

“Won’t he?” The question came out small, vulnerable. “He’s brilliant, you’ve said so yourself. He thinks strategically. He sees patterns. And he has your heart in a way none of us ever could.” Her voice broke. “How do I compete with that?”

“You don’t compete,” Adam said softly. “There is no competition. Do you think Leo has any interest in quarterly reports or market analytics? In the intricate dance of international intelligence gathering?”

Maja’s fingers traced the rim of her glass—a gesture Adam recognized from countless negotiations. “You say he’s not trying to take anything from me, and yet...”

“And yet?”

“He’s already taken you.” The words fell between them like shards of ice. “Not your body—I was never interested in that. But your thoughts, your trust, your attention. The parts of you that used to be mine.” She looked up at him with eyes that held centuries of shared history. “Am I wrong?”

Adam was quiet for a long moment, studying her. “You’re not entirely wrong,” he said finally. “Leo does have parts of me I’ve never given to anyone else. But Maja...” He leaned forward, his voice low with the weight of millennia. “That doesn’t mean there’s less of me for you.”

“Doesn’t it?” Her laugh was bitter. “Time is finite, even for us. Attention is finite. And now you have someone who commands both in ways I never could.”

“You’re right that things will change,” Adam said carefully. “They already have. Leo is part of this Court now, whether either of you likes it or not. He stands second only to me.”

Maja’s grip tightened on her glass. “Second only to you.”

“Yes.” Adam’s tone was firm. “Which means you need to know him, Maja. Not for my sake, though I would ask you to. But for the Court’s. For your own.”

“I don’t—”

“You do.” Adam’s interruption was gentle but implacable.

“Because like it or not, his decisions will affect everything we’ve built.

His strategic thinking, his insights into hunter methods, his growing influence—it all impacts the Court.

You can’t advise me effectively if you don’t understand the person whose voice now carries that weight. ”

Maja stared at him, panic flickering in her eyes. “You’re asking me to accept that a hunter—a former hunter—now has more authority in our Court than vampires who’ve served you for centuries.”

“I’m asking you to accept reality,” Adam said.

“The claiming happened. The bond is real. Leo isn’t going anywhere, and neither is his position.

” He reached for her hand again. “But neither are you. Nocturne will always be yours. The intelligence network, the corporate empire—that’s your domain. Leo has no interest in it.”

“But the Court—”

“The Court needs both of you.” His voice carried a note of desperation he rarely showed. “It needs your centuries of experience and his fresh perspective. Your understanding of our world and his knowledge of our enemies.” He squeezed her hand. “I need both of you.”

Maja pulled her hand free, turning her glass between elegant fingers. “You’re asking me to trust him.”

“I’m asking you to try,” Adam said. “Not for his sake, but for mine. Because watching the two most important people in my life circle each other like enemies is...” He ran a hand through his hair. “I can’t lose either of you.”

“And if I try and find him wanting?” she asked, her voice controlled again. “If your precious Claim proves unworthy of your trust?”

“Then we’ll deal with that when it happens,” Adam said without hesitation. “But you won’t know unless you actually spend time with him instead of avoiding the mansion like he carries plague.”

Maja was quiet for a long time, her expression shifting through hurt, fear, anger, and finally something closer to curiosity.

“He really tried to negotiate with Marie?” she asked.

Adam’s lips twitched. “He did. Got thoroughly routed. Gaspard said it was like watching someone try to reason with a force of nature.”

“Foolish hunter.” Her tone was softer. “Marie hasn’t yielded kitchen sovereignty since the Boston Pack Alpha tried to reorganize her spice rack in ‘68.”

“He’s learning,” Adam said carefully. “About our world. Our people.”

Maja snorted. “Our household dynamics are hardly unique. They’re just... complicated.”

“Will you try?” Adam asked. “Not for him—for me?”

She was quiet for so long he feared he’d pushed too hard. Finally, she lifted her glass in a gesture that wasn’t quite a toast.

“I won’t pretend to like it,” she said. “And I make no promises about being pleasant.”

“When have you ever?” Adam’s voice held centuries of affection, but relief was clear.

“I can be perfectly pleasant,” Maja sniffed, adjusting her sleeve. “When the situation warrants it.”

“But you’ll try?”

Another long pause. “I’ll... consider it. But Adam?” Her eyes met his. “If he damages what we’ve built, I won’t hesitate.”

“I wouldn’t expect less,” Adam replied, though something cold settled in his stomach. “You’re my daughter. Protecting this Court is in your blood.”

“Good.” She took a measured sip. “As long as we understand each other.”

Adam laughed, though it held more relief than humor. “I’ve missed you, terrible child.”