Page 33 of Claim of Blood
“I would prefer you in my bed,” he admitted, his voice dropping to a rumble that made Leo shiver deliciously against him.
“But you should have your own space.” His fingers tightened on Leo’s hips, unable to suppress the possessive reflex. “As for Felix... that’s a conversation for when you’re more coherent. Blood compatibility affects us both in ways I don’t fully understand.”
Adam steered him gently toward the ensuite bathroom, supporting more of Leo’s weight as his steps grew unsteady.
“But first,” he said, voice soft but unyielding, “we need to get you cleaned up.”
The bathroom was impressive without being ostentatious, all cream marble and brushed nickel fixtures. The shower was large enough for two, enclosed in glass that fogged almost instantly with steam.
Adam stripped off Leo’s borrowed clothes, already damp where his release had soaked through the fabric, before shedding his own. He adjusted the water temperature with practiced ease, then guided Leo under the spray.
Leo swayed, his head tipping forward as the water poured over them. Adam stepped in behind him, one arm wrapping securely around his waist to hold him steady. With his free hand, he reached for the soap, working methodically over Leo’s skin, his touch clinical despite the intimacy of the places he cleaned.
“You’re sending Lander after Felix,” Leo mumbled, voice low and raw, as Adam worked shampoo through his hair.
“Yes,” Adam said, angling his head back to rinse. His fingers ghosted over the marks on Leo’s throat, washing away the last traces of dried blood.
“Felix’s notes may help us understand what’s happening.”
“And if they don’t?”
“I don’t have an answer for that right now, my hunter.” His tone was measured, almost weary. “Your people came to hunt me and mine. Felix’s future—their future—I cannot say.”
Adam finished rinsing Leo’s hair. The water ran clear now, all traces of their earlier claiming washing down the drain. Only the fresh bite marks remained stark against pale skin.
“Can you stand on your own for a moment?” His voice was low, careful.
A slight nod was all he received. Adam let go, watching as Leo braced himself against the tile, muscles trembling with exhaustion.
He reached for a plush towel from the warming rack, drying them both with efficient movements. Leo’s eyes kept drifting shut, only to snap open again, confusion and weariness warring in his expression.
Without comment, Adam guided him out of the bathroom to the bed.
“Sleep,” he commanded softly. He hesitated a moment before lowering himself behind Leo. This wasn’t his bed, wasn’t his space to claim, but the thought of leaving Leo alone in this state felt impossible.
“I can stay until you fall asleep, if you’d like.”
Leo didn’t answer, but his body curled instinctively back against Adam’s chest, seeking warmth or reassurance or both. His breathing evened out, slow and steady, the rhythms of sleep already taking hold.
Through the windows, Adam could see the first hints of dawn bleeding over the horizon. Soon, the automated shutters would seal the room in darkness, hiding them from a world that wouldn’t understand.
He held his Claim close, breathing in the mingled scents on Leo’s skin. He knew he should leave, give him the space this room was meant to provide.
But for now, he let himself enjoy this moment of quiet, knowing tomorrow would bring its own challenges.
Chapter Nine
Adam
Adamsatinhishome office, staring at his inbox with growing irritation. Twelve missed meetings sprawled across his calendar like accusations. Eighty-two urgent emails blinked with the kind of desperation that suggested the senders believed their problems were the only ones that mattered. Half a dozen video calls had gone unanswered, their notification badges glowing like tiny red wounds on his screen.
The digital chaos pulsed with infuriating persistence—each notification a reminder that the world refused to pause for his personal revelations.
And gods help the world for that.
His gaze drifted to the time stamp in the corner of the monitor. For a moment, he’d half-expected it to read days. Maybe even a week. The intensity of what had transpired between him and Leo felt too significant to have occurred in mere hours.
No. Only two in the afternoon.
