Page 42 of Claim of Blood (Blood Bound #1)

He guided Lander back between Leo’s thighs and finally let go. The younger vampire stared at the slick mess between Leo’s legs and swallowed hard.

“Prep him. Now.”

Compulsion laced the words, and Lander obeyed, slicking his fingers and pushing them back into Leo’s loosened hole. Leo moaned, pliant beneath him, his body already responding.

Adam settled beside Leo, fingers threading through his hair. “That’s it,” he murmured, eyes fixed on Lander. “See how easily he takes you? How much he wants this? You’re not taking anything from me. You’re serving me. Serving us both.”

Power pulsed through him—thick and electric, heavier than lust. This wasn’t just about pleasure or blood. This was about dominance. Claiming. Ownership. Not just of Leo, but of Lander, too.

Lander’s third finger slid in and Leo arched with a gasp, fingers twisting the sheets. Adam reached beneath him, lifting Leo’s hips and sliding a pillow under him like placing a precious offering at the altar.

Lander hesitated again. The flicker of it—of resistance—was enough.

Adam moved. One hand clamped around the nape of Lander’s neck, the other curled possessively around his cock.

“Still fighting me?” he murmured, voice soft as silk and just as cutting. “Even now?”

Without waiting for an answer, Adam guided him to Leo’s entrance. Using his hip against Lander’s ass, he pressed him forward until Lander sank into Leo with a groan that wasn’t entirely willing.

“Fuck him,” Adam ordered, voice low and dangerous. His grip remained on Lander’s neck, a leash made of flesh.

Lander obeyed, thrusting slowly. His breath stuttered. Leo whimpered beneath him.

But this wasn’t jealousy—this was orchestration. Adam didn’t want to stop it. He wanted to control every motion. Every moan. Every inch Lander gave and every inch he took.

Adam leaned in, forcing Lander down until his chest lay flush to Leo’s back. Then he tilted Leo’s head, exposing the untouched side of his throat.

“Feed.”

Perfect obedience. Perfect submission. Perfect control.

Lander flinched. Just a heartbeat. But then instinct won. His fangs dropped, and he bit down. Leo sobbed at the dual invasion—cock and fangs—and Adam’s chest swelled with dark satisfaction.

Their sounds—Leo’s broken cries, Lander’s groaning breaths—blended into something primal. The scent of blood, sex, and submission filled the room.

Adam watched for another beat, then retrieved the lube. When he returned, he slicked his fingers and pressed them to Lander’s entrance. The vampire jolted forward with a strangled noise.

Adam growled, dragging his tongue over the bleeding mark Lander had left in Leo’s throat, sealing it. “You’re going to take me now. While you fuck him.”

Lander didn’t stop moving. His rhythm faltered but never ceased. His body shook under Adam’s hands, caught between resistance and obedience.

Adam slid one finger in, then two. Lander moaned around Leo’s throat. Adam sought the younger vampire’s prostate with merciless precision, his other hand gripping blonde hair and tugging hard.

Lander tore free of Leo’s neck with a gasp, blood smeared on his lips.

Adam leaned close. “Still want to pretend you’re not mine?”

Lander’s reply was choked. “Please...”

Adam let the silence hang.

“Please what, Lander?” His voice was silk over steel. “Say it. Beg me.”

A war raged behind Lander’s eyes—pride clawing at the edges of unraveling need. His jaw clenched, trembled, then broke.

“Please fuck me, Adam.”

Adam’s breath caught. Not because of the plea itself, but the honesty that fractured every word. The resentment. The surrender.

“Good boy,” Adam whispered, lining himself up. “Hate it all you want. Your body already knows who it belongs to.”

He pushed in, inch by inch, until he was buried to the hilt. Lander whimpered, his body rigid with tension. Adam stilled, savoring the tremor in his muscles, the clench of heat around him—a perfect fit forged in defiance.

Then he moved.

Each thrust ground Lander deeper into Leo’s slick body, until all three of them were caught in the rhythm. Lander gasped, his control unraveling. Adam wrapped an arm around his chest, hauling him tighter.

“Fuck him,” he ordered, voice roughened by restraint. “Fuck yourself on my cock.”

Lander obeyed, thrusting into Leo before dragging himself back onto Adam. The renewed pace sent Leo crying out, his overstimulated nerves sparking with every movement. The heat of Lander’s submission wrapped around Adam like a vise.

Adam leaned forward and bit down, fangs sinking into Lander’s throat. Lander faltered—then found the rhythm again, his hands gripping Leo’s hips in desperation.

The world collapsed to sensation—blood, friction, scent, and the sweet crack of surrender.

Leo came with a shout, body arching between them, triggering Lander’s climax as he spilled into the hunter with a choked cry. Their mingled pleasure filled the air like incense.

Adam’s hand slid from Lander’s chest to his throat.

He squeezed.

Lander jerked in his grasp, body locked in panic. One hand clawed at Adam’s wrist, nails raking his knuckles. But the other didn’t fight. That arm went slack. And Lander, through the tears in his eyes and the shudder in his lungs, tilted his head back—offering more of his throat to Adam’s fangs.

That contradiction—terror and submission, pride and obedience—was exquisite.

Adam drank deep, swallowing mouthfuls of Lander’s blood as he fucked him harder. Just as Lander’s struggling hand slipped away, his strength spent, Adam’s orgasm tore through him—sharp, possessive, final.

He came deep, holding Lander frozen on his cock, filling him until he felt the overflow.

Only then did he release his grip.

Lander collapsed onto Leo in a trembling heap, dragging air into his lungs with harsh gasps. His lashes were wet, cheeks flushed, but the dazed satisfaction in his expression told Adam everything.

He pulled back slowly, watching his seed leak from Lander’s used hole—then pushed it back in with two fingers, firm and unrelenting.

Lander groaned, raw and broken.

Adam didn’t stop. He shoved his fingers deeper, grinding into that overstretched heat, coaxing Lander’s prostate again and again until he shuddered and came a second time—spilling into Leo with a final, helpless sound.

e warmth of Lander’s release still deep inside him.

He kissed Leo slowly, deeply—claiming him again with tongue and breath.

“We should shower,” Lander said at last, voice careful, cautious. The color still rode high on his cheeks.

Leo snorted a laugh. “No chance. Adam wants us smelling like him.”

He turned his head toward Adam, eyes lidded but knowing. “Don’t you?”

Adam stilled.

Leo wasn’t teasing. Not really.

And he was right.

He should want them clean. Comfortable. But the thought of rinsing away the scent, the evidence, the mark of what they’d done—it sent something ugly and possessive clawing up Adam’s spine.

His answer came low and rough. “Not yet.”

He moved to gather their clothes—every scrap—and dropped them into the laundry bin. Then retrieved fresh ones, identical in cut and softness. He handed Leo a shirt first, watching his claim sit up, blinking like he’d surfaced from deep water. The compatibility haze was lifting.

Adam stepped through the concealed doors into Lander’s adjoining room. The younger vampire followed, naked and hesitant, the confidence that usually cloaked him long gone.

Adam paused at the closet entrance, catching the scent of his own release still leaking from Lander’s body.

Another flash of heat.

Leo padded in behind them, tugging his shirt into place. “You okay, Lander?”

Lander shifted, hands twitching toward modesty. “Yeah... I’m okay. Just... never been on the receiving end before.”

The words hit Adam like a punch to the gut.

He was Lander’s first.

Desire surged up like fire through oil. His hand curled around the closet frame, the wood creaking under the pressure of his grip.

Mine . The word thundered in his blood—not born of compatibility, but something deeper. Hungrier .

He turned before instinct could take hold. Rifled through the closet with swift, jarring movements. Found soft clothes like Leo’s. Passed them to Lander with hands that trembled just slightly.

“What about underwear?” Lander asked, voice cautious, still searching for footing.

Adam’s jaw flexed. He handed him a pair.

“You didn’t give me any,” Leo muttered.

The comment snapped Adam’s restraint.

He strode to Leo in two steps, grabbed his hips, and pulled him close. “Because you love it,” he growled against his ear. “Knowing I could bend you over at any moment, push down these pants, and take what’s already mine. You’re still loose. Still messy. Still mine.”

His fingers slid down, dipping beneath Leo’s waistband, finding him still slick and open. Leo moaned, pressing into his touch.

When he pulled back, Lander was dressed—but subdued. Adam caught the flicker in his eyes, the subtle scan between them. Lander could sense the shift. Could feel Adam’s attention still wrapped around them both like a noose.

Adam adjusted his cuffs, rolling them back with surgical precision. He let his gaze sweep from one to the other. They wore similar shirts. Similar bruises. Similar scents.

Claimed.

But only one had been broken open for the first time.

“We should...” Lander started, then stopped. The words faltered.

“Should what?” Adam asked softly. Dangerously.

Lander stiffened. “This doesn’t change anything,” he said quickly. “Between us. In the Court.”

Adam’s smile was a flash of fangs. “Doesn’t it?”

He stepped back, smoothing his collar. “Midnight cocktails await. After all, we have so much to discuss.”

They made it halfway down the first staircase before a muffled sound drifted from behind one of the guest suite doors.

Lander winced. “Pretty sure my parents are... otherwise occupied.” He sighed. “Should’ve put them farther from the stairs.”

A servant appeared with linens, their pace faltering as Adam moved behind Lander with predatory ease. His hand slid low, pressed between Lander’s thighs—exactly where he was, still wet and sore beneath the borrowed cotton.

The servant flushed and fled..

He withdrew his hand slowly, pleased.

“We’ll wait in the parlor,” he said, brushing an imaginary wrinkle from his sleeve. “If they’re still... enjoying themselves.”

“Oh god,” Lander groaned, palms over his face. “Can we not talk about my parents’ sex life right after you’ve—”

“After I’ve what?” Adam purred, stepping close again. Lander didn’t retreat. But he didn’t breathe, either.

Leo, already halfway down the next flight, barked a laugh. “After you’ve thoroughly debauched their son? Let’s skip the trauma and find the bottle of bourbon.”

“Several bottles,” Lander muttered, trailing after him with a small hitch in his step that made Adam’s blood hum.

Adam followed last, his gaze fixed on the sway of their shoulders, the uneven gait, the bruises he’d left behind.

They were his.

And the night was still young.