Page 104 of Claim of Blood
Lander’s laugh scraped raw against the silence, bitter and broken.
“Explain? You want me to explain why I hate how my body just... responds to whatever you want? How I can feel myself wanting to please you both even when I’m angry?”
His left hand clutched his injured wrist like he could anchor himself to the pain.
“You’re ancient,” he spat, tone brittle. “You should know what this is. You should be able to look at me and tell me what the fuck I’m becoming. Because I can’t.”
Leo shifted in his seat, the movement sharp. “Lander—”
“Don’t,” Lander snapped, not looking at him. “You feel it too, don’t you? That... echo. Like a shadow of what he is. But together, when you’re both in the room…”
He drew in a breath that shook as it left him. “I fucked you because I was angry. Because I was hurt. Because I thought maybe if I got it out of my system, I could stop needing it. Needing you.”
“Did it work?” Adam asked, tone even.
Lander’s voice dropped. “No. Of course it didn’t.”
Silence settled again, heavy and close.
“The magic chose you for a reason,” Adam began, noting how Lander’s broken wrist had already begun to heal, though the bone still jutted awkwardly beneath pale skin.
“Did it?” Lander bit back. “Or did you?”
His voice cracked at the edge, but the bitterness stayed sharp.
“That night in the alcove, you made me watch. Then you made me guard Leo. Was that magic guiding you?” Lander’s eyes glinted, something fevered behind them. “Or were you just seeing how far I’d bend before I broke?”
He took a step forward. Not threatening, just close enough to be seen. “Everyone keeps talking about destiny and bonds and purpose, but none of this feels like fate. It feels like control. Like you’re moving pieces around because you can.”
Adam didn’t rise to the accusation. He absorbed it. For the first time, a sliver of doubt cut through his anger. Had it been the magic pulling him to this point—or just the raw possessiveness of a creature used to control?
Adam had no good answer.
“And you’re not wrong,” he said, voice even. “I do move pieces. I’ve done it for centuries. But I’ve never felt anything like this. Not with anyone else.”
Lander’s expression flickered.
“Don’t mistake your confusion for manipulation,” Adam continued. “I never forced the bond. You said yourself, you feel the echo.”
“That’s not an answer,” Lander said, quieter now.
Finally, he straightened. “You have a point, though. None of us truly knows what this is.” His gaze shifted to Leo. “Would you fetch Elisabeth and Johan for me?”
Lander’s eyes widened. “I really don’t need to hear about their—”
“Not about that,” Adam cut him off smoothly. “About Andreas.”
Leo slipped out, the door clicking shut behind him. Silence followed—dense and uncomfortable.
Lander dropped onto the couch like his body had given up trying to hold tension. His injured wrist lay awkwardly in his lap. Adam caught the faint tremor that ran through him as he settled. The scent of old blood lingered where the bone had torn through muscle before setting wrong.
When Leo returned with Elisabeth and Johan, they moved with their usual unhurried grace, slipping into the room as though they’d been waiting for the invitation. Elisabeth’s hand found Johan’s with practiced ease. Leo settled back into his chair, still visibly uncomfortable with the whole situation.
Her gaze flicked to Lander’s wrist, then to Adam’s face, measuring, but not judging. Court discipline at its finest. Johan’s hand tightened briefly over hers, a quiet acknowledgment of the tension.
“Who was Andreas to you?” Adam asked, skipping pleasantries. “Beyond the obvious.”
Elisabeth and Johan exchanged a glance.
