Page 9 of Claim of Blood (Blood Bound #1)

A few eyebrows lifted. Across the room, Emilia tilted her head. “That was all it took? A conversation?”

Leo blinked, cheeks coloring, but his voice was steady. “They considered me compromised.”

Lander leaned back, tone light, almost flippant. “I’m surprised it took a whole conversation. You’ve compromised people with less, Adam.”

A few quiet chuckles stirred, but Adam didn’t hear amusement. He heard the challenge, subtle and pointed. Maja’s narrowed eyes suggested she heard it, too.

“Continue,” she said icily. “What did you see?”

“I drove over to the rec complex. Parked in the lot and waited for Adam’s car to pass. After an hour, I’d move to the edge of the subdivision to watch for comings and goings. We were trying to establish a pattern.”

“And what pattern did you establish?” Maja’s voice was ice.

“Just that Adam and a few others leave in the morning and return by nightfall. There was always some movement, but nothing suspicious—dog walkers, runners, the occasional cyclist. People coming home late. It all looked... normal.”

Leo hesitated, then added, “Too normal. That’s what felt off.

Innsbrook is beautiful, expensive, meticulously kept—but it didn’t breathe like a real neighborhood.

It felt like a backdrop. Like the setting for a show where the cast never quite makes it to camera.

There were never kids. Never any noise. Just.. . stillness, beneath the movement.”

Lander’s smile turned predatory. “That’s because while we may live in the homes built to protect us, most of the Court’s life happens here. Beneath.” He spread his hands, gesturing to encompass the underground space.

“The First’s Night Court designed Innsbrook from the foundation up, including the subterranean city.

Offices, guest quarters, emergency bunkers, a night-market grocery, a lounge.

.. even a smaller rec complex for those who don’t—or can’t—spend much time topside.

Some prefer the surface. Others stay below. ”

Lander leaned back in his chair. “And vampire children are rare. Infertility is common, and successful births are celebrated, but few. You wouldn’t see them outside because most families don’t have them.”

His gaze flicked back to Leo. “What you saw was only the stage dressing.”

Adam watched Lander speak with that same casual irreverence—but his eyes kept returning to Leo. Measuring. Testing. Enjoying the way Leo squirmed under the attention.

Adam didn’t like it.

He told himself it was protective instinct. But that wasn’t true. Not entirely.

Nathaniel’s fist crashed against the table again. “Why are you sharing all this information?”

Lander smiled. “He’s one of us now. He should know.” The words were mild, but the edge was deliberate. Lander rarely said anything without a blade tucked behind it.

“A hunter will always be a hunter,” Ilona said, her voice sharp. “No matter whose marks they wear.”

“I didn’t choose this,” Leo snapped, his hands clenching into fists against his thighs.

“It doesn’t matter now,” Gaspard cut in smoothly. “You’re claimed. The only way out is death.” His tone suggested this was simply a fact—neither threat nor comfort.

“How many hunters are currently in Porte du Coeur?” Maja asked, leaning forward. The betrayal in her eyes had shifted to something more calculating.

Leo shifted uncomfortably on his knees. “Eleven, including me. My parents, uncle, sister, brother, and five cousins.”

“All von Rothenburgs?” Nathaniel asked.

“Yes. We... we work as a family unit.”

“All in Innsbrook?” Emilia asked.

Leo shook his head. “Eight of us are. The rest—my father and two cousins—are in an apartment in the First Cat. Near the cultural district.”

Adam stiffened. The First Cat was dense with supernatural presence—Court-run businesses, coven shops, even pack-connected galleries. Thousands lived and worked there, both mortal and not. Any embedded hunters presented serious risk.

Lander leaned forward. “Which building?”

Leo’s jaw clenched, shaking his head. “No.”

A weighted pause filled the space.

“You’ve already admitted they’re in the First Cat,” Maja said. “You think withholding the address keeps them safe?”

“Yes,” Leo snapped. “Because if I give it, you’ll move on them. They don’t know I’ve been taken. If I betray them, I’m done.”

“Done?” Ilona sneered. “You’re already marked.”

“My coven operates in the First Cat,” Emilia said, her tone soft but firm. “Homes, shops, wards with children nearby. If hunters are actively embedded—”

“They are,” Nathaniel said, extended nails gouging into the table’s surface. “You know they are. They’ve been watching us from inside the walls.”

“This is now a security breach,” Gaspard said. “The location is required.”

Leo didn’t move. “No.”

Silence pulsed through the room.

“Then compel him,” Ilona hissed. “That’s what the bond is for, isn’t it?”

Adam met her gaze with a stare like ice. “No. It is not. As you are fully aware.”

Ilona held his gaze for a moment longer but said nothing.

“It’s not its purpose,” Adam continued, voice cold and precise. “The bond exists for connection. For recognition. Not coercion.”

Gaspard spoke from his place at the table, ever smooth. “But it does allow for easier compulsion. A benefit, if unpleasant.”

Adam didn’t look away. “A last resort.”

“Adam,” Maja said gently. “We need this.”

Adam stood slowly, his movements measured. The council’s eyes followed him as he stepped away from his seat and circled the table. Each footfall echoed in the silence, too loud, too deliberate. He hated this. Hated every inch of the walk toward Leo. Hated that it had come to this.

This isn’t why the bond was created. It was never meant to be a leash.

He stopped just short. Leo lifted his eyes to meet his, wide and wet and pleading.

“Please don’t,” Leo whispered. “You didn’t make me give them the address in Innsbrook. Don’t make me give this.”

He smiled softly, and it wasn’t mockery. “We didn’t need it,” he said gently. “Rooting them out won’t be a challenge.”

“They’re my family,” Leo said hoarsely.

“And this city is mine,” Adam replied.

Adam let his hand rest against the side of Leo’s neck, just beneath the claim. The bond responded immediately, sparking between them like static under the skin.

Normally, all it took to compel a human was eye contact. A few whispered syllables, the right tone, the right pull of will. Simple.

But Leo wasn’t just human. Not anymore. And Adam was ancient enough to know that touch made the compulsion absolute. Irresistible. Paired with the bond, there was no version of this where Leo could say no.

The resistance lasted only a breath.

Then Leo shuddered violently. His body bowed under the force of it, knees scraping against the floor, hands splaying to brace himself as if the chamber itself tilted around him. His mouth opened, but no sound came.

Adam leaned in, voice barely more than a whisper. “Where?”

Leo trembled. Sweat gathered at his temples. His lips parted around the words like they were being torn from his throat.

“Montclair...” he gasped.

Adam felt the bond flare hotter, the resistance faltering.

“Which floor?”

Leo choked on a sob. “Thirty-second.”

“Unit.”

Leo’s body convulsed with the final surrender. “Three-two-two-eight.”

The moment the words left him, Leo collapsed fully, breath tearing ragged from his lungs. His forehead met the carpet, arms limp at his sides. The weight of the command, the bond, the shame—all of it pressed him down like gravity had turned hostile.

Around the chamber, Council members moved with speed and purpose. Phones were drawn, tablets activated, fingers flying across glass as orders were dispatched and protocols engaged. The Montclair was no longer a hiding place. It was a target.

Adam remained where he was. Still. Staring down at Leo.

He wanted to kneel beside him. Wanted to brush the sweat from his brow, to pull him upright, to take back what he’d done.

But he couldn’t.

The Court was watching.

Leo stayed hunched, trembling, breath stuttering in and out like a dying engine. His fingers twitched against the floor. His body reeked of fear and exertion and something close to grief.

Adam stepped back. Slowly. Carefully. Then turned, his spine rigid, and walked the long curve of the table back to his seat.

By the time he lowered himself into the chair, he no longer felt like a king.

He felt like a man who had broken something he wasn’t sure he could fix.

“Who sent you?” Ilona demanded. “The Vatican?”

Leo didn’t lift his head. His voice was hoarse but steady. “No. The main branch. In Germany.”

“The von Rothenburgs still answer to them?” Gaspard asked, one eyebrow arching.

“We are the main branch,” Leo said. “Or part of it. My uncle takes orders directly.”

“Orders to do what?” Maja asked.

Leo hesitated. His eyes flicked up, just once, to Adam.

“They identified Adam as being... one of the oldest. A direct creation.” He swallowed hard. “They wanted confirmation.”

“Confirmation for what purpose?” Oren’s voice was quiet, but it dropped into the chamber like a stone into deep water.

Leo closed his eyes. “Death,” he said. “They consider him a threat to humanity. Too powerful. Too old. They don’t believe vampires like him should exist.”

Adam didn’t react outwardly, but inside, something went cold. He’d been hunted before. He’d been feared. But this wasn’t retribution. This was extermination.

“And your role?” Maja pressed, her voice tight.

“Surveillance. Just that. I was assigned to track his movements. Confirm his identity. Establish routines—when he left, when he fed, who he saw. Nothing else. I reviewed my observations with my uncle, who sent daily reports back to the main branch.”

“And you were told nothing more?” Gaspard asked.

“Not at my level,” Leo said, meeting his gaze. “I wasn’t senior enough. They wanted to confirm he was Amenemhat. That was all I knew.”

The boy wasn’t lying. Every beat of Leo’s heart said truth.

“When?” Oren asked. One word. Heavy with intent.