Page 103 of Claim of Blood
The silence held, charged and pulsing.
Blood dripped steadily from Lander’s split lip.
“My First,” he whispered.
Adam’s tone didn’t shift. “Louder.”
“My First!” The declaration cracked like a whip, ringing against marble and stone.
Adam leaned close, voice low and lethal. “I am so much more than your First, and you know it.”
Then he stood, sweeping his gaze across the gathered onlookers.
“Does anyone here question my claim?” His voice was calm, but his power rippled under every word. “Does anyone believe this boy has a right to what is mine?”
No one moved. No one breathed.
Adam looked down again. “Would you like to leave my Court?” His foot pressed down on Lander’s back—not crushing, just anchoring.
Lander stiffened, scent spiking with panic.
“Would you like me to release you from my service? To cast you out?”
Elisabeth’s sharp breath broke the stillness. Ilona stepped forward, voice steady but unmistakable. “If Adam releases you, Lander, it will be a black mark. No Court will take you. You’ll be nothing.”
Lander twitched, the truth of it striking deeper than any blow.
Adam gave him a shake, enough to reopen the wound on his lip. “Well?”
A beat passed. Then another.
“No.” The word broke on Lander’s breath. “No, First. Please don’t release me.”
And softer, barely audible: “I’ll do anything. Be anything. Please.”
Then Adam stepped off him, removing the foot he’d braced between Lander’s shoulder blades. The pressure disappeared, but the weight of it lingered. Lander didn’t move. He stayed where he was—forehead pressed to blood-streaked stone, chest rising in shallow, broken pulls.
“Everyone out,” Adam commanded, his voice carrying easily through the foyer despite its quiet tone. “Except you.” His gaze found Leo, still frozen on the stairs, face burning with mortification. “You stay.”
The Court and hovering servants dispersed quickly, though Adam caught the satisfied gleam in Maja’s eyes, the way Ilona’s lips curved with approval. They understood. This was how power worked.
As the last footsteps faded, Adam’s rage shifted into something colder, more controlled. The public display had served its purpose—no one would question his authority again. Now came the harder work of understanding what had driven Lander to such stupidity.
Adam let the silence settle. Let the weight of what had just happened hang between them. Then, with measured calm, he bent and gripped Lander by the collar.
The younger vampire didn’t resist. He let himself be hauled upright, his right arm still cradled against his chest, the angle of it visibly wrong. Blood streaked his mouth and chin. His eyes were unfocused.
Adam took in the injury without comment.
“My study,” he said. “Now.”
They ascended the stairs without a word, keeping a careful distance as they moved down the hall. The only sound was the uneven drag of Lander’s steps and the soft slap of Leo’s bare feet on stone.
Adam held the door, watching as Leo hesitated before choosing one of the leather chairs while Lander remained standing, every line of his body radiating uncertainty and barely concealed pain. The younger vampire looked thoroughly broken—lip still seeping blood, wrist cradled protectively, shoulders hunched in defeat.
The study door clicked shut behind them.
“Explain yourself,” he said, moving to lean against his desk rather than sit behind it. “And choose your words carefully.”
