Page 27 of Claim of Blood
“Already ruined,” Adam hummed into the space beneath his jaw. “And I haven’t even started.”
The first thrust was deliberate and deep, pulling a cracked sound from Leo’s throat. Then another. And another.
Adam fucked him like he owned the beat of Leo’s heart, each roll of his hips seeming to rewrite something beneath Leo’s skin. The arm across his chest stayed firm, pressing harder every time Leo squirmed, until each breath became something shallow and precious. His vision started to blur—not from lack of air, but from too much sensation. Too much heat. Too much stretch. Too much need.
“Breathe, beauty,” Adam murmured, soothing and savage all at once. “Come on. Take it.”
Leo’s voice was gone—no words, just broken, helpless sounds. He was open. He was held. He was used.
And Leo wanted more.
The shift came suddenly, the air thickening as Adam’s control slipped. Power rolled off him in waves, ancient and wild, making Leo’s mark burn and his blood sing.
The arm across his chest flexed, drawing him back tighter, pressing upward just enough to tilt his head. Leo gave way instinctively, baring his throat without thought.
Then Adam’s fangs sank in.
The world stopped.
Adam drank deeply, like the bond had shattered whatever restraint he’d been holding onto. Each pull sent a new shockwave through Leo’s core—pleasure, pain, need—layering over each other until thought blurred and bled out.
His heartbeat stuttered, synced to the rhythm of Adam’s mouth and the relentless thrust of his hips. There was no room for anything else. Just this. Just him.
He didn’t want to think. He didn’t want to be. He wanted to feel. Wanted to be Adam’s.
Leo hovered on the edge of something vast, tethered only by the weight of Adam’s arms and the drag of his own surrender. His body seized—cock twitching, breath catching—and then hecame hard, shuddering, clenching around Adam as Adam spilled into him again, filling him until Leo could feel it everywhere.
His universe collapsed to fangs in his throat, cock inside him, arms holding him steady as he came. Nothing beyond that. Nothing else mattered.
As the bite softened and the bond thrummed low and satisfied, Leo slumped back, boneless. The last thing he registered was Adam’s breath, ragged and warm against his neck, and the tender sweep of a tongue over his punctures.
Like sealing something holy.
And then: dark.
Chapter Eight
Adam
AdamcradledLeoagainsthis chest, tongue giving one last pass over the sealed bite marks. The sight of his claim sent a fresh surge of satisfaction through him—deeper than simple possession, more primal than ownership. Something had shifted inside him during the claiming, something he didn’t fully understand yet.
It wasn’t concern that twisted in his chest when he thought of potential threats to Leo. The idea that his hunter might be in danger was laughable. No one in his Court would dare touch what was his. He would tear apart any outside threat before it reached his doorstep. No, this feeling was something else entirely—something that made his skin feel too tight, made him want to bare his teeth at shadows.
The bond hummed between them, alive and electric, and with it came urges he’d never experienced in five millennia of existence. An almost feral need to show what he’d claimed, to make others witness what belonged to him. The instinct was soforeign, so unlike his usual controlled nature, that it should have alarmed him.
Instead, it felt right.
Even before he could hear footsteps, he sensed their approach—a change in weight, the slightest movement of air. The scent hit next: crisp linen, juniper and stone aftershave, that careful restraint that was uniquely Lander’s. Adam’s nostrils flared, and something dark and possessive unfurled in his chest.
He wanted Lander to see.
The realization should have disturbed him. Adam had never been one for exhibition, had always preferred privacy in his intimate moments. But now, with Leo’s warm weight against him, with the scent of sex and blood thick in the air, the need to display what he’d done was overwhelming.
He wanted Lander to look at Leo’s throat and know what it meant. To see the curve of his hunter’s bare body molded against him, the evidence of their coupling, the scent of blood and submission clinging to every inch of him. The instinct wasn’t about arousal—it was about territory. About planting a flag in skin and scent, no one could mistake.
Leo shifted against him, letting out a soft, wrecked noise that went straight to Adam’s cock. His grip tightened instinctively as he sensed rather than saw Lander’s approach slow, the younger vampire’s careful composure faltering.
Good. Let him be affected. Let him understand exactly what he was walking into.
