Page 8 of Claim of Blood (Blood Bound #1)

Chapter Six

Adam

Maja’s fury struck like a slap—earned, inevitable, but wholly unhelpful.

He had no time for her outrage, or for his own.

His grip tightened on Leo’s arm, grounding himself as much as guiding the boy forward.

Leo was too warm. Still slick. Still reeking of Adam’s claim—and every creature in the chamber could scent it.

The council chamber hadn’t changed in a century—warm light from the chandeliers, polished wood, the scent of old magic clinging to the rugs. His chair waited at the head of the massive semicircular table, eleven others arranged in a perfect curve.

The council had gathered in the center of the room, their heated discussion silenced by his entrance. He watched them process Leo’s scent, saw nostrils flare, and bodies tense.

Gaspard Blanchefort stood near the table’s edge, warm brown eyes widening as he caught sight of Leo. Oren Sapir moved smoothly to Adam’s right, assuming his protective stance even as his dark eyes flickered between Leo and Adam with unspoken questions.

Lander Jensen towered over the others, his blonde hair and forest-green eyes marking him as Erik’s grandnephew. As Head of People, his focus was immediately on Leo, but Adam caught something else—restless weight behind his stare, like a man waiting for a fight.

Ilona Erdei’s striking beauty drew attention as always, her tall frame and dark hair a testament to her Russian heritage, though she’d left Miroslav’s court for Adam’s centuries ago.

Nathaniel Warren growled low in his throat, the Pack Leader’s massive frame tensing.

He’d pulled his sun-kissed ruddy blonde hair back into a rudimentary bun, a style long out of fashion but practical—or perhaps just because he hadn’t bothered with a haircut.

A beard a shade darker framed a strong jaw, and his blue eyes flashed with an eerie light when the wolf edged close to the surface.

Only Emilia seemed genuinely pleased, her petite frame belying her power as she smiled warmly at them both. Unlike the eternally youthful supernatural beings around her, her 57 years were visible in the silver threading through her dark, curly hair and the wrinkles around her eyes.

Her rich brown skin seemed to glow. Her New Orleans polished Cajun drawl carried nothing but joy as she said, “Blood compatibility. Some bonds transcend our divisions.” But as her gaze lingered on Leo, something shifted in her expression—a flicker of recognition, curiosity sharpening her features as she tilted her head slightly.

Emilia was born into one of the most powerful covens in the United States.

Their voodoo practice was as legendary as the roots of their power.

She had fallen in love with Carl Anderson, son of the Porte du Coeur coven leader, when they attended Washington University together in their youth.

Instead of returning home to New Orleans after graduation, she had defied her parents and her coven, eloping with Carl.

Chaos had ensued for a few years. A witch war Adam took no sides in. But eventually, things had settled. If there was anyone in this room who would understand Adam’s situation, it was Emilia.

Adam kept Leo close as he faced his council. His claiming marks stood stark against Leo’s pale neck, a declaration that couldn’t be withdrawn. He had chosen this, chosen Leo, and his council would accept it, or face consequences they hadn’t seen in centuries.

“Emilia?” Adam’s voice carried the question as he caught her continued study of Leo.

She waved a dismissive hand, though her eyes stayed thoughtful. “Nothing, cher. Just... sometimes old bloodlines carry more than we expect.”

Before Adam could pursue it, Nathaniel prowled closer, growling. “Show us his tattoo.”

Emilia scoffed. “Is that necessary? Adam has chosen. Isn’t that enough?”

“No,” Nathaniel said flatly. “It isn’t.”

“Show it to us,” Maja echoed. Her arms crossed, betrayal etched deep. She’d expected him to consult her first, to plan for the fallout. But there had been no time.

Adam released Leo, shoving him forward harder than he meant to. Leo stumbled, eyes darting around the room, his form trembling.

“Look at me, beauty,” Adam said. Leo’s gaze locked onto his. “Remove your shirt.”

Leo peeled the fabric over his head without hesitation. Only after he held it did he pause, frowning, before turning his glare on Adam.

Adam didn’t flinch. He hated this—hated laying Leo bare before them—but hiding the truth would damn them faster than any confession. The council would tear Leo apart in private if they didn’t see it all now.

Let them smell his shame. Let them judge the hunter he was. If they saw every scar and every sin, saw him kneeling beneath Adam’s claim, maybe they’d stop looking for excuses to reject him.

He was showing them the worst of Leo first. So they’d have no reason to deny the rest.

Nathaniel roared and seized Leo by the throat, slamming him onto the council table. Maja pinned his hands above his head as he struggled. Adam didn’t move. This was a safe outlet for their rage, and they knew better than to harm a Claim in truth.

“Three marks. Three kills, hunter. Who were they?” Nathaniel’s voice was a predator’s rumble.

Leo’s eyes shot to Adam, throat working under the crushing grip.

“Answer him,” Adam ordered.

Leo swallowed hard. “The first... I was thirteen. A panther shifter broke into our home, attacked my sister. I took a crossbow off the wall—meant to threaten, but I fired. Silver bolt through the skull.”

“Why did the shifter attack?” Nathaniel demanded.

Leo shook his head as much as the grip allowed. “Don’t know the full story. I was only told they were feral. I—I never asked after that.”

Nathaniel squeezed Leo’s throat. “The second?”

“My initiation kill. A wolf who’d been exiled from the Philadelphia pack for rape. One of his victims got pregnant and killed herself rather than carry his child.”

Nathaniel’s growl was a deep rumble that shook the table. Pregnancy among shifters was sacred, not rare, but sacred.

“The death triggered the Philadelphia Pack to send out a hit. They gave it to me. I hunted him down and shot him in his sleep.”

“Coward,” Nathaniel spat.

Leo didn’t argue.

“And the third?”

Leo shook his head again. Nathaniel’s grip tightened until he was gasping.

“Answer him,” Adam commanded, softer this time.

“I didn’t—” Leo’s voice broke. “I didn’t actually kill the third.

It was a vampire. In Chicago. My family was there for a wedding, another hunter clan.

At the bachelor party, we came across a vampire minding her own business.

She was a dancer at the club. She spotted us and tried to leave quietly, but the drunken party cornered her in a back alley.

I tried to talk them into leaving her alone, but. ..”

Leo’s eyes darted to Adam, pleading.

“Continue,” Adam commanded softly.

Tears gathered at Leo’s temples. “They tortured her before killing her. My family was so drunk that no one remembered who gave the final blow, so everyone present was given rights to the kill. It was celebrated. Tattooed at the reception.”

Nathaniel’s grip loosened. Disgust warred with something like pity. Across the room, Emilia pressed a hand to her heart, her dark eyes glistening. Even Maja’s fury had thawed, though her hold on Leo’s wrists didn’t waver.

“You took credit for a murder,” Ilona said coldly.

“No choice,” Leo whispered. “If I refused the mark, they’d have questioned everything.”

“Should you have?” Ilona asked quietly.

“I never touched her,” Leo said.

“And now you wear our First’s claim,” Gaspard observed, voice soft. “Quite the transition.”

Maja finally let Leo’s wrists go but stayed close. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she demanded, her voice low. “We could have prepared.”

“There wasn’t time,” Adam replied, allowing a hint of gentleness to color his tone. Of all his children, Maja’s pain cut deepest.

She fixed him with a look that spoke volumes about what she thought of that excuse.

“The pull was... overwhelming,” he admitted. “The claiming was inevitable, though I am sorry I couldn’t warn you.”

Even as he spoke, memory pressed behind his eyes—the garage wall, Leo’s body arching under him.

It shouldn’t have happened like that. Not rough and fast, not without words.

But his restraint had cracked open, and now it was too late.

Leo had come apart for him—bled for him, sobbed—and Adam had no excuse. Only consequence.

Nathaniel stepped back, releasing Leo. He slumped upright, dragging in his first full breath. His bare skin prickled with goosebumps, one hand going to his throat to check for damage he wouldn’t find.

Ilona plucked Leo’s shirt from the floor, and when he reached for it, she shredded it to ribbons, vampire strength reducing cotton to scraps with theatrical flair.

“Petty, Ilona,” Oren said, breaking his silence.

Ilona tossed the remnants onto the carpet with a sneer. “Center, hunter. Kneel.” Her voice carried command. “You have more answers to give.”

Leo’s eyes sought Adam’s, but Adam turned away. This was the protocol for any prisoner brought before the council.

The council resumed their seats. Adam claimed his own, Maja rigid on his right, Oren steady on his left. He watched as Leo climbed down from the table and sank to his knees on the carpet, head bowed.

“Where are the rest of the hunters?” Nathaniel demanded.

“I can’t betray my family.”

Nathaniel’s fist crashed against the table. “Where. Are. They?”

“They’re in Porte du Coeur... some in Innsbrook, the rest in the First Cat.”

“The Innsbrook address,” Maja demanded. When Leo remained silent, she turned to Adam. “Command him.”

“No.” Adam’s voice was firm. “He’s told us they’re here. We’ll be able to find them easily enough.” He glanced at Oren, who nodded.

Lander hummed thoughtfully. “How were you surveilling Adam?”

“I was supposed to watch from the café, but... Adam spoke to me. They put me on night patrol after that.”