Page 119 of Claim of Blood
Lander managed a tight nod, unable to speak.
Adam started moving again, slower this time. “Miraculous,” he whispered.
Power rolled off him, thick and electric, crackling around them like a storm.
“Mine,” Adam growled again, this time with teeth. They grazed the mark.
His pace turned savage.
“Say it.”
“Yours,” Lander breathed. “I’m yours.”
Adam’s fangs sank into the old mark, claiming him again. The pain fused with pleasure, igniting something inside Lander that exploded outward, shattering him from the inside.
He came with a hoarse cry, whole body seizing, cock pulsing untouched. Adam followed a heartbeat later, grinding deep and spilling into him with a guttural sound.
They collapsed together, tangled and panting, Adam’s weight a heavy, grounding presence. Lander couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. Could only feel.
Eventually, Adam rolled to the side, pulling Lander with him, still buried deep, their bodies joined. One arm wrapped tight around Lander’s waist.
Possessive.
Unyielding.
Safe.
“I didn’t expect that,” Lander admitted, voice small in the quiet room.
Adam’s chuckle rumbled against his back. “I did.” Adam eased away, his movements gentle. “Don’t move,” he ordered, pressing a kiss to Lander’s shoulder blade.
Lander sank into the mattress, too drained to disobey. He heard water running in the bathroom, the sound lasting longer than expected. When Adam returned, his face was clean, the dried blood washed away, and he carried a warm washcloth.
“Let me,” Adam said.
The cloth moved over Lander’s skin with surprising tenderness, cleaning away the evidence of their encounter—blood from his split lip, sweat from their struggle, tears that had mixed with both. Adam worked methodically, turning him carefully to wipe his stomach and chest with the same attentive care.
Halfway through, Adam paused, looking at the thoroughly soiled cloth, then at Lander’s still-messy state.
“I may have underestimated the scope of this project,” Adam said dryly.
Despite everything, Lander let out a surprised huff of laughter—rusty and unused, but real. “Just one washcloth? Amateur.”
Adam’s lips quirked as he produced a second cloth from behind his back. “I came prepared for round two of cleanup.” He continued his ministrations, this time with a slight smile. “You’re quite thorough when you fall apart.”
“Shut up,” Lander muttered, but there was no heat in it, and his mouth twitched at the corners.
When Adam finished, he tossed both cloths aside and slid his arms beneath Lander’s body.
“What are you doing?” Lander asked, suddenly alert.
Adam lifted him effortlessly. “Taking you to bed.”
“I have a bed,” Lander protested, face heating as he found himself cradled against Adam’s chest. He felt ridiculous. He was taller than Adam, his long limbs awkward in the bridal carry.
“Our bed,” Adam corrected, carrying him through the hidden door that connected their rooms.
The master bedroom was dimly lit, only a bedside lamp casting a soft glow. Leo lay sleeping on his side, his features peaceful in repose.
