Page 105 of Claim of Blood
“He was... balance,” Johan said first, choosing the word carefully. “The claims can be overwhelming—that constant need to mark, possess, display. But with Andreas, the desperate edge softened. We could think clearly. Act with purpose instead of instinct.”
“Like he was bearing some of the magical burden,” Leo said, his voice quiet but alert, leaning forward slightly. “Diluting the intensity.”
Adam nodded. “I’ve noticed something similar. With Lander present, the blood compatibility’s pull is... manageable.”
At that, Lander’s good hand curled into a fist in his lap.
“Exactly,” Johan said, exhaling slowly. “Before Andreas, it was easy to get lost in the haze. With him, I could think again.”
Elisabeth huffed softly, not without humor. “Lucky you. For those of us on the... receiving end, clarity took longer. But Andreas helped. More than I wanted to admit at the time.”
Leo groaned and buried his face in his hands.
Adam pressed a knuckle to his lips to hide a smirk. The parallel didn’t need to be spoken aloud.
Elisabeth offered Leo a sympathetic smile. “Sorry, dear.”
“So I’m basically magical methadone,” Lander muttered, voice tight with pain and resignation. “Fantastic.”
“Such a human metaphor.“ Johan murmured, one brow lifting.
The look Lander gave him could’ve stripped paint.
Elisabeth smoothed over the tension with practiced ease. “We met Andreas toward the end of our second year together. The first year back in Norway was... difficult. Being apart felt unbearable at first. It got better once we returned to Erik’s Court, but with Andreas...” Her eyes softened. “Separation became possible. Natural, even.”
“Andreas had doubts, too,” Johan added. “They came slower. But Adam’s power is different—stronger. It makes sense you’d need balance sooner.”
Lander’s jaw flexed, a tremor running through him that had nothing to do with the healing wrist. “This is still just speculation.”
“What would you prefer?” Leo asked. “A double-blind study?”
Lander glared.
Elisabeth cut in gently. “You’re not a placeholder. The magic chose you, even if we don’t understand it yet.” Her gaze warmed. “And in my experience, thirds often find their own match. The bond reshapes itself to make room.”
The sharp intake of Lander’s breath cut through her words. Adam caught the spike of distress in his scent, watched his shoulders draw tight despite the pain it caused his wrist.
Very interesting.
“Thank you, Elisabeth. Johan.” Adam’s voice was smooth. Dismissal wrapped in politeness.
They stood as one. Elisabeth gave Lander a parting look that managed to be kind without softening the truth. Johan’s touch lingered briefly at her lower back as they slipped out.
The door shut. Silence returned.
Adam crossed to where Lander sat and extended a hand, palm up. An offer, not a command.
Lander hesitated, then slowly raised his broken wrist. Adam took it with surgical precision.
Then snapped the bone.
Lander’s strangled cry didn’t make it past his teeth. His body locked, shoulders curving in on themselves.
Leo surged to his feet. “What the fuck—”
“It was healing wrong,” Adam said, calm and unbothered. He took a seat beside Lander while still holding the wrist. With his free hand, he rolled up his sleeve, exposing his forearm. “You can wait for it to heal naturally,” he said mildly, “or you can feed. Your choice.”
Pride warred with pain in Lander’s expression. Adam watched it flicker, falter, and then break.
