Page 4 of Claim of Blood (Blood Bound #1)

Sabine’s lip curled slightly, though she said nothing.

The family’s awareness of Leo’s sexuality was an open secret, only mentioned through veiled comments and clear hostility.

The hunter community, especially the old families, adhered to rigid traditions that left no room for individual differences.

Weber arrived with the main course, and the tension briefly diverted as plates were distributed. Leo stared at his food, no longer hungry, and caught Felix’s sympathetic glance from across the table.

“I heard from Fournier this morning,” Stefan announced. “He’ll be in America in the coming weeks. His niece will accompany him.”

Friedrich straightened slightly, his interest evident.

“The alliance would be advantageous,” Sabine remarked, her tone businesslike. “Strategic connections are more important than ever with the landscape changing.”

Leo kept his eyes on his plate. The less he knew about Fournier’s movements—or Friedrich’s arranged marriage—the better.

Katherine cleared her throat. “Speaking of strategic positions, how’s the setup for tonight?”

“Everything is in place,” Stefan said, his voice deliberately vague.

Leo’s brow furrowed slightly. What setup? No one had mentioned anything beyond surveillance.

“Your surveillance shift at the mansion starts at eleven,” Stefan continued, not bothering to phrase it as a question. Stefan had already given the order the previous day.

Ignoring the unsettling feeling of being manipulated, Leo nodded, aware he was a mere piece in a larger plan.

“Remember,” Stefan’s gaze lingered on him, “observe only. Don’t approach the property.”

Friedrich looked up from his wine. “Wouldn’t want you getting distracted again.”

“I won’t,” Leo said firmly.

“Perhaps Leopold could use some exercise before his shift,” Friedrich suggested suddenly. “He seems stressed. A sparring session would help.”

Leo tensed. Friedrich’s “sparring sessions” were notorious, particularly when he felt someone needed to be put in their place.

“I should prepare for surveillance,” Leo said carefully. “I need to review the—”

“Surely you can do both?” Stefan’s tone made it clear this wasn’t a question.

Will and Max exchanged knowing glances. “Might be good for you, Leo,” Max said. “Since you probably don’t get much exercise with all that dick-sucking you do.”

“Yeah,” Will snickered. “Not exactly the type who does the fucking, are you?”

Their crude laughter filled the dining room.

Katherine examined her nails, looking bored.

Sabine continued eating as if nothing inappropriate had been said.

Stefan’s face remained impassive, tacitly approving the humiliation by his silence.

Leo caught Felix’s gaze briefly before his cousin looked away, shoulders hunched, unwilling to become the next target. Leo didn’t blame him.

Friedrich’s smile was predatory. “Only one way to find out, little brother. Meet me out back in ten minutes.”

The “sparring area” behind the mansion was little more than a flat patch of grass surrounded by trees for privacy.

Friedrich stood waiting, twirling two wooden practice swords with casual expertise.

Will and Max lounged nearby, clearly expecting entertainment.

Stefan and Sabine watched from the patio, wine glasses in hand, while Katherine leaned against the railing with studied indifference.

Only Felix looked concerned, hovering anxiously at the edge of the clearing.

“Standard rules,” Friedrich announced as Leo approached. “First to five hits wins. Head, torso, and limbs all count.”

Leo caught the practice sword Friedrich tossed his way, testing its weight. Despite his earlier reluctance, a familiar calm settled over him as he took his stance. This, at least, was familiar territory.

“Begin,” Stefan called.

Friedrich attacked immediately, a flurry of powerful strikes that drove Leo backward. Leo parried each blow, letting his brother expend energy while he studied his patterns. Friedrich had always favored aggression over precision, using his superior strength to overwhelm opponents.

After deflecting a particularly vicious overhead strike, Leo ducked under Friedrich’s guard and tapped his sword against his brother’s ribs.

“One-zero,” Leo said, unable to hide the smile.

Friedrich’s eyes narrowed. He renewed his assault with even greater ferocity, forcing Leo to give ground.

Leo circled cautiously, controlling his breathing.

Friedrich pressed forward, but Leo was ready.

His brother was predictable. Leo sidestepped, letting Friedrich’s momentum carry him past, and landed a quick strike on his back.

“Two-zero,” Leo announced.

Friedrich attacked with renewed fury. Leo parried the wild strikes, feeling the familiar rhythm of combat settle into his bones. His brother’s technique was all aggression, no finesse—all emotion, no strategy. Leo spotted his opening and delivered a precise tap to Friedrich’s arm.

“Three-zero,” Leo said, his calm voice a stark contrast to Friedrich’s menacing growl.

Leo recognized the look crossing his brother’s face—the same expression Friedrich had worn since childhood whenever faced with something he couldn’t simply overpower. Three points up, and Friedrich hadn’t learned a thing. Never had, never would.

The thought settled in Leo’s mind with surprising clarity: he was the better swordsman. Friedrich relied on brute strength and intimidation, but those weren’t enough against proper technique.

If Friedrich ever hoped to improve, he’d need to learn patience.

Control. Strategy. All the things that had been drilled into Leo precisely because he lacked his brother’s natural advantages.

Ironic that those lessons had made Leo the superior fighter, while Friedrich’s privilege had stunted his growth.

A flash of movement caught Leo’s eye—Will shifting position, moving to flank him. Leo adjusted his stance, keeping both men in his field of vision. The momentary distraction was enough for Friedrich to score a hit on Leo’s shoulder.

“Three-one,” Friedrich said with relief.

The next exchange was fast and brutal. Leo landed a solid blow to Friedrich’s chest.

“Four-one,” Leo said. For a heartbeat, he felt it: control. Not the kind his family respected. The kind they feared. The kind they mocked when it came from him.

But it was real. And it was earned.

As Leo moved to reset his position, his foot caught on something—Max’s outstretched leg. He stumbled, and Friedrich’s sword struck his thigh. Hard.

“Four-two, still my favor,” Leo ground out.

“That’s cheating,” Felix protested from the sidelines. “Max tripped him!”

“A hunter must be aware of all threats,” Stefan called dismissively. “The field is never fair, Felix.”

Friedrich’s expression darkened. He nodded almost imperceptibly to Will and Max, who both drew practice swords from behind a nearby bench and moved to flank Leo.

“What is this?” Leo demanded, backing up to keep all three in view.

“A more realistic scenario,” Friedrich replied. “Enemies rarely attack one at a time.”

Leo knew he was outmatched, but surrender wasn’t an option. He quickly shifted to a defensive posture, practice sword held before him as he backed toward the edge of the clearing. Three against one meant no recovery time between attacks.

Will came first, slashing at Leo’s left side. Leo parried and spun, catching Will’s forearm with a counterstrike.

“Not part of our match,” Leo said through gritted teeth.

“It is now,” Max laughed, lunging from the right.

Leo deflected Max’s downward strike, then had to immediately block Friedrich’s overhead blow. The impact jarred his arms. He disengaged and sidestepped, trying to keep the three opponents in his line of sight.

“Too scared to fight me alone, Friedrich?” Leo taunted. “Need your sidekicks to save you?”

Friedrich’s face flushed with anger. “Shut your mouth.”

Leo caught a momentary opening and struck Max hard across the chest. Max stumbled backward, clutching his ribs as he fought to suck in a breath.

“Back off,” Leo warned. “This isn’t your fight.”

“All of us against one fairy,” Will sneered. “Seems fair to me.”

Leo’s jaw tightened at the slur. From the corner of his eye, he saw Stefan watching from the patio, making no move to stop the match.

Friedrich and Will attacked simultaneously from opposite sides. Leo ducked under Friedrich’s swing and blocked Will’s, the swords clacking loudly. He managed to drive an elbow into Will’s stomach, earning a satisfying grunt.

“Hit me, not them,” Friedrich taunted.

As Leo tried to maneuver for a strike on Friedrich, Max targeted his already injured leg, bringing his practice sword down hard.

Leo’s knee buckled, and Friedrich seized the opportunity to drive forward with a vicious thrust aimed directly at Leo’s groin.

Leo twisted to avoid the blow, but Friedrich’s practice sword still connected, sending white-hot pain through his lower body.

As Leo doubled over, Friedrich raised his sword for a strike to the head.

Through watering eyes, Leo saw the blow coming and brought his own sword up just in time to block it. The blades connected with a sharp crack.

“Enough,” Stefan called, rising from his seat. “The lesson is made.”

Friedrich lowered his sword, breathing heavily. “A draw.”

It wasn’t a draw. It was three against one, with dirty tactics and outside interference, but Leo knew better than to argue. He straightened slowly, the pain in his groin radiating out.

“Good session,” Friedrich said, clapping Leo on the shoulder hard enough to hurt. “Maybe you’re not completely useless after all.”

The others drifted back toward the house, leaving Leo alone with Felix, who approached, concerned.

“You okay?” Felix asked quietly.

“Fine,” Leo replied automatically, though they both knew it was a lie.

“You almost had him,” Felix offered. “If they hadn’t cheated—”

“They always cheat,” Leo cut him off. “That’s the point. There are no rules, no fair fights. Only winning matters.”

Felix hesitated, then said, “You’re better than that, Leo. Better than them.”

Leo looked at his cousin. Felix was the only one who looked at him like a warrior, not a disappointment. Not a tool. “Thanks, Felix. I should get ready.”

“Be careful out there,” Felix said.

Leo nodded. “Just standard surveillance. Nothing exciting.”

As a von Rothenburg, as a hunter, Leo’s path had been laid out before he was born. Duty, family, tradition—these were the pillars of his existence, unquestionable and immutable.

Yet as he prepared for surveillance, Adam’s face kept appearing in his mind. The memory of that touch lingered on his skin like a brand, defying every oath he’d sworn.

When Leo came downstairs dressed for duty, he found Katherine and Sabine in the living room, tablets spread between them, displaying images of young men—potential matches for Katherine’s eventual marriage.

“Too stocky,” Katherine was saying, swiping left on a photo of a broad-shouldered hunter.

“He has excellent bloodlines,” Sabine countered. “Seven generations of marked hunters.”

“I don’t care about his bloodlines if I have to look at that face across the breakfast table for the next fifty years.” Katherine swiped again, pausing on the next image. “This one has potential. Where’s he from?”

“Boston. The eldest son of James Reynolds. American hunter line going back only four generations.”

Katherine zoomed in appreciatively. “At least he’s pretty.”

Leo moved past them toward the door, hoping to slip out unnoticed. No such luck.

“Leopold,” Sabine called, her voice sharp. “Remember your instructions. Observation only. No engagement.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“And Leopold?” she added, her eyes cold. “Don’t disappoint us again.”

The words followed him out into the night, a familiar weight on his shoulders. As he walked toward the surveillance point, Leo tried to focus on his duty, on the mission, on anything other than the pull he felt toward the estate he was meant to be watching.