Page 16 of Claim of Blood
Leo swallowed hard, acutely aware of how vulnerable he was. “And you didn’t kill me because...?”
“The compatibility,” Adam said simply.
“What exactly does that mean?”
Adam’s hand slid into Leo’s disheveled hair, the gesture possessive. “It means we’re compatible in every way—blood, body, and mind. Think of compatibility like organ donation.” His fingers traced down to Leo’s neck, brushing over the permanent mark. “Blood types must match, tissue antigens must align, or the body rejects the organ. This is similar, but more complex because of the magic involved.” He sighed. “Magic always complicates things.”
“I’ve met compatible humans before,” Adam continued, his ancient eyes distant. “But nothing like this. Never in all my centuries have I felt so... compelled to claim someone. I can feel when you’re near. For three weeks, I fought against it, like fighting gravity itself.”
“You sat down with me at the café,” Leo said. “Why didn’t I feel the pull before then?”
Adam’s head tilted, a knowing smile playing at his lips. “Didn’t you?”
Leo swallowed hard, heat rising in his cheeks. He’d felt it. His eyes had been drawn to Adam constantly. He’d gotten embarrassingly hard just watching the vampire order espresso.
“I felt it,” Leo admitted.
Leo’s fingers found the mark on the right side of his neck, tracing the raised, healed-over scars. Small, but unmistakably visible above his t-shirt collar. “What does it mean to be claimed?”
Adam opened his mouth to respond, but raised voices from behind a nearby door cut him off. Leo blinked, finally taking in his surroundings. They stood in some sort of antechamber, with three equally wide, warmly lit hallways branching off in different directions. He had no idea which one they’d come down.
The voices grew louder, more heated, and Adam moved to stand in front of Leo, blocking his view of the doors. “For now,beauty, being claimed, means you’ll live. No one in that room would dare harm you.”
Leo nodded, just as the double doors flew open with a thunderous crash against the walls.
The air seemed to drop ten degrees. Maja Volkov stood in the doorway, her nearly white-blonde hair in a thick braid. Leo recognized her as Nocturne’s President of Operations, but the glacial fury in her blue eyes made him wish he didn’t.
“You fucked the hunter?” she all but snarled.
Adam’s only response was to grab Leo’s elbow and guide him into the room beyond.
Chapter Six
Adam
Maja’sfurystrucklikea 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.
