Page 53 of Claim of Blood (Blood Bound #1)

Chapter Twenty-Six

Lander

Lander sat in the dark, the security tablet’s glow casting harsh shadows across his bedroom. He hadn’t moved in an hour, fingers flexing against his knee, grasping for something solid, something that wouldn’t slip through his grasp like everything else.

His wrist ached.

Which was impossible. The feeding had healed it completely. No injury remained, yet he could still feel Adam’s fingers wrapped around it. A phantom pressure carrying phantom memories. A reminder of how much easier it had been to just let go.

That thought churned through his stomach, bitter and unwelcome. He refused to scrutinize it, knowing the reflection might reveal a version of himself he wasn’t prepared to acknowledge, one that hungered for submission as much as he craved dominance.

The irony wasn’t lost on him. For all his talk of control, he’d made the choice that left him with the least of it.

When Adam had pinned him to the floor, asking if he wanted to leave, Lander could have said yes.

Could have walked away from the Court, from his position, from everything he’d built here.

It wouldn’t have been a good choice. No sane vampire would abandon an established Court to strike out alone, but it had been a choice. Adam wouldn’t have stopped him.

Yet the word had lodged in his throat. His loyalty wasn’t a question, it was a certainty carved into his bones. He knew where he belonged. To Adam. To Leo.

And then there was... him.

The second he’d laid eyes on Felix, something inside him had shifted. Not gradually, but with the decisive precision of a key turning in a lock that had always been waiting. He’d known immediately what it was.

Perfect blood compatibility.

His parents had hinted at this inevitability. Elisabeth and Johan had found each other early, then spent decades before Andreas joined their bond. Even then, it had taken Andreas years more to find his shifter match. The magic moved slowly, carefully, building connections over time.

And yet here Lander was, barely a month into whatever this thing was, and the universe had apparently decided to throw a perfect match at him.

A hunter. A chatty, overeager researcher who treated supernatural beings like fascinating lab specimens. He’d probably follow anyone anywhere if they dangled research before him, moral compass spinning uselessly against curiosity.

Felix acted like someone who decided to test reality’s limits to see what happened, consequences nothing more than interesting variables in an experiment of his own making.

It was ridiculous. The magic had lost its mind.

He cursed the absurd timing of it all.

Lander did not trust Felix.

A sharp knock cut through his thoughts. “Come in.”

Oren stepped inside, expression unreadable, features arranged in the careful neutrality of someone who had learned that emotions were information better kept hidden.

“Felix has been secured in a room in the south wing,” Oren reported, voice stripped of inflection. “Under constant guard.”

Lander grunted. “Good.” The word emerged more harshly than intended, betraying an investment he didn’t want to acknowledge.

“He won’t be moving freely unless Adam says so.” Oren’s gaze flickered over Lander. “And if he tries, we’ll stop him.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Lander asked, though even as the words left his mouth, he suspected he knew.

“You know why.” Oren’s voice remained neutral. “Adam asked me to update you specifically.”

The moment Oren had mentioned Felix’s name, something low and steady had started humming beneath his skin, a resonance that made his teeth ache. Lander’s jaw tightened involuntarily, his fingers gripping the edge of the tablet harder than necessary.

Not quite a demand. Not quite an urge.

Oren’s gaze sharpened, clearly noting the physical tells. “Something wrong?”

Lander forced his expression to remain blank, drawing on centuries of practice in concealing vulnerabilities. “No.”

Oren didn’t look convinced, but he let it slide. After a pause, his tone shifted, becoming less formal. “Your parents asked if you were coming to say goodnight.”

Lander groaned, dragging both hands down his face. “Tell them I died.”

Oren’s lips twitched. “Noted.” He turned, making his way to the door. “Get some rest.”

Lander barely registered his departure. He crossed to the tall antique mirror between the windows. The tablet’s glow cast elongated shadows across the room.

His reflection stared back with quiet accusation. Carefully, he unbuttoned his shirt, pulling the collar aside to expose the juncture where neck met shoulder, a gesture both defiant and resigned.

There, in that vulnerable hollow, was where Adam’s fangs had sunk deep—two faint punctures, barely visible even to his enhanced vision. Nothing like the bold, unmistakable claim that adorned Leo’s throat. These marks were easy to miss unless you knew precisely where to look.

Lander traced the outline with his fingertip.

The physical sensation was negligible, yet the contact sent a mix of contradictory emotions cascading through him: resentment at being marked, a sense of belonging that eased his loneliness, frustration at his own response, and relief at finally having a place.

“Fuck.”

The marks violated everything he had been taught. One vampire, one claim. His parents had explained it with certainty when he was barely old enough to understand: the singular nature of the claim was what made it sacred, what separated mere feeding from true connection.

He let his shirt fall closed, refusing to look at his reflection any longer. The inconsistency raised doubts he wasn’t prepared to address.

Lander had spent centuries building himself into someone who commanded respect, who remained firmly in control.

Then Adam had reached inside him with terrifying precision and located the one part that craved the opposite.

Had unearthed a hunger for surrender that Lander had buried beneath layers of carefully cultivated authority.

He’d been raised to understand blood compatibility. His parents being who they were.... But they had never warned him about this. They hadn’t prepared him for how it would feel to have his carefully maintained autonomy dissolve beneath another’s touch.

Lander paced the length of the room.

And now Felix—that ridiculous, verbose, inexplicably intriguing human—had complicated matters further.

That immediate recognition, that instantaneous pull.

.. Lander could still feel it resonating through him, a secondary pull to the dominant note that tied him to Adam.

Another claim on his autonomy, another threat to his control.

Another surrender waiting to happen.

The soft click of the hidden door broke his thoughts. Lander froze mid-step, cursing his distraction. He hadn’t heard Adam’s approach, too caught in his own head.

Adam’s scent hit him first.

Sex. Leo.

The mingled aroma coiled low in Lander’s gut, warm and demanding. His body’s response was immediate, a traitorous heat unfurling beneath his skin.

He turned slowly. Adam stood in the doorway that connected their rooms, wearing only black sweatpants that rode low on his hips. Even in the dim light, the lean muscle of his torso absorbed the shadows. His dark eyes held Lander’s, unblinking.

“What do you want?” Lander asked, hating the rough edge to his voice.

Adam stepped into the room, bare feet silent against the hardwood floor. “That’s what I came to ask you.” His voice was calm, measured. “I just spent two hours with Leo.”

“Congratulations.”

“It was satisfying.” Adam moved closer. “But incomplete.”

Lander backed up a step before he could stop himself. “How is that my problem?”

“I felt something pulling me here.” Adam’s gaze remained steady. “To you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Lander’s heart betrayed him, picking up speed.

“Don’t you?” Adam advanced, his movements deliberate.

Lander couldn’t meet his eyes.

“Why can’t you look at me, Lander?”

“Fuck you.” The words scraped raw from his throat.

Adam’s head tilted slightly. “You’re angry. Why?”

“Because none of this makes sense!” Lander’s control snapped. He shoved Adam hard, palms connecting with the solid wall of his chest. “I don’t want this. Any of it.”

Understanding flickered across Adam’s face. Then he moved—a blur of motion ending with Lander’s back slamming into the wall, Adam’s body pinning him there.

Lander lashed out. His knee jerked up, aiming for Adam’s groin. Adam shifted, the blow landing on his thigh with a meaty thud. As Adam reached to control his arms, Lander wrenched to the side, muscles burning as he tore his right arm free.

Lander’s elbow cracked into Adam’s cheekbone with a nauseating crunch. Blood sprayed hot across his collarbone—metallic, wet, marking him like war paint. Pain shot up his arm from the force of it, but Adam only grinned, teeth red and shining.

In the next instant, Adam’s hand clamped around Lander’s throat. The grip tightened with supernatural strength, cutting off breath and sound in one brutal squeeze. Lander’s eyes went wide with shock. Before he could lift a hand to resist, Adam used that hold to lift him and slam him down.

The floor caught Lander’s spine with bruising force. His lungs collapsed in on themselves. For a second, he couldn’t breathe —couldn’t even think—just saw stars as the ceiling tilted above him.

“That all you have?” Adam taunted, blood still streaming between his teeth, his mouth slick and crimson.

Lander bucked beneath him like a wild animal, every muscle snapping with violent intent. With a twist and a heave, he rolled them. For one brief, victorious heartbeat, he was on top, his hands pinning Adam’s shoulders to the floor.

Adam laughed up at him, the sound wet and savage. “Better.”

The laugh made Lander’s stomach twist. Not from fear, but from the realization that Adam was enjoying this. And worse… so was he.