Page 3 of Claim of Blood
Leo didn’t join their laughter. He’d inherited everything from their legendary grandmother—the deep auburn hair, amber eyes, even the graceful bearing that looked wrong on a hunter. Sophia had been a European model and socialite before marrying into the family, beautiful enough to grace magazine covers. She’d died when Leo was two, leaving him to wear her face like an unwanted inheritance.
He’d been popular enough in college—too popular, really.
The women had been acceptable, expected even. The men... well, those encounters had been carefully hidden. Hunters weren’t gay. End of story. The von Rothenburg legacy demanded certain things: dedication, skill, and eventually, children to carry on the bloodline. His secret desires threatened all of it, just as this inexplicable pull toward Matthews threatened everything he’d been raised to be.
A hunter did not yearn for his prey. But a tiny voice inside whispered that maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t mind being Matthew’s prey instead. The thought sent a shiver down his spine that wasn’t entirely fear. No. Leo caught himself, shockedby the direction of his thoughts. He and Matthews could never happen. Their families had been enemies for centuries.
Adam was a vampire. Leo was a hunter. That should be the end of it.
But in his own head… he could let himself dream. Just for a moment.
“It’s not funny,” Leo said finally, his hand drifting unconsciously to where the vampire had touched his cheek. “He gave me his contact information. Invited me to Nocturne’s offices.”
The laughter stopped abruptly.
“Well,” Friedrich said, suddenly all business. “Perhaps we can use this. If he’s interested in you—”
“No,” Leo cut him off, backing toward the stairs. “Just... no. I need to think.”
He fled to his room before they could protest, before they could suggest using this unexpected development to their advantage. Because the terrifying truth was, he wanted to see Matthews again. And not for the mission.
He dropped onto his bed, staring at his phone. The contact information seemed to pulse with the same gravity he’d felt in Matthews’ presence. What was wrong with him?
A knock at his door pulled Leo from his ever-spiraling thoughts a few hours later.
“Mr. von Rothenburg?” Weber’s voice, properly formal even through the door. The butler had served their family for twenty years, following them on operations like this one. “Your presence is requested in the study, sir.”
Leo glanced at his phone. Just past noon. “Now?”
“Yes, sir. Your mother and uncle insist.”
Leo’s stomach tightened. Uncle Stefan was back, then. This couldn’t be good.
He found them waiting in the study, his mother seated in a leather armchair, spine rigid, while Uncle Stefan stood by the window. The afternoon light cast a metallic gleam on his silver hair. Neither looked at Leo as he entered.
“Close the door,” his mother said.
Leo obeyed, remaining standing since no one invited him to sit.
“You’re taking Felix’s night surveillance.” Uncle Stefan didn’t turn from the window. “Starting tonight. Katherine will handle the café going forward.”
Leo’s breath caught. The night watch meant twelve hours in Innsbrook—that exclusive enclave in the Second Cat where houses looked more like small châteaux and even the local grocery store required membership. The suspected heart of the Porte du Coeur Night Court lay nestled among those manicured lawns and private tennis clubs, those carefully maintained stables and spotless streets.
Everyone knew about the Night Court, of course. It had been a fixture in PDC since the post-WWI migration, as much a part of the city’s fabric as the Gateway Arch. The vampires’ power structure centered around these Courts—territories ruled by ancient vampires who maintained order among their kind and enforced the rules that kept humans unaware of their existence.
“Delete Matthews’ contact information,” his mother said. “Now.”
Leo looked up to find her studying him. Her eyes narrowed slightly, as if searching for an answer in his expression. The intensity of her gaze made him wonder if she somehow sensed the strange effect Matthews had on him.
“I really think—”
“Now, Leopold.” Uncle Stefan’s voice sliced through the room.
The use of his full name made Leo flinch. He pulled out his phone, aware of their calculating gazes. With trembling fingers,he navigated to Matthews’ contact details. The information seemed to pulse on the screen, that same gravitational pull he’d experienced in the café, making his finger hover over the delete button.
“I’m waiting,” his uncle said softly.
Leo pressed delete, feeling like he’d just severed a vital connection.
