Page 116 of Claim of Blood
When he finally lay naked on the polished floor, chest heaving, Adam still pinning his wrists, he stared up with defiance born of desperation.
“Say it,” Adam demanded softly.
Lander turned his face away. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Adam gripped Lander’s chin, forcing him to meet his gaze. “You need this. You need to know I’m strong enough to take your submission.”
The truth of it burned through Lander’s chest. “I’m not like Leo. I’ll never be naturally...”
“Submissive?” Adam completed. “I know. That’s what makes it worth having.”
Lander’s breath caught. “I can’t just give it to you.”
“Then I’ll take it.” Adam’s eyes darkened. “Every time, if necessary.”
Adam shifted his weight, settling back to straddle Lander’s hips. The movement created a friction that made Lander suddenly aware of his body’s betrayal, the hardness he hadn’t even noticed.
“No,” Lander said, the word feeble even to his own ears.
Adam’s hand struck his cheek like a whip crack, the force of it wrenching Lander’s head sideways. The sting radiated down his jaw, sharp and immediate.
“Truth, Lander. Tell me this is what you need.”
Lander remained turned away, muscles rigid, refusing to meet those ancient eyes again. The silence stretched between them, loaded with everything he couldn’t bring himself to say.
Adam laughed, the sound rich with understanding. “Your body knows what it wants.”
He stood in one fluid motion, towering over Lander’s naked form. Something in his stance, in the confidence of his posture, frayed the thread of Lander’s control.
Panic flared. Lander rolled, scrambling toward the door in a desperate bid for freedom. His hand had barely touched the doorknob when Adam reached him.
Strong arms lifted him completely off his feet. Lander’s back hit Adam’s chest as he was hauled across the room, struggling uselessly against the iron grip. His heels kicked at empty air, finding no purchase, no leverage—just the helpless realization that Adam was carrying him exactly where he wanted him to go.
“Enough games,” Adam growled against his ear.
The world tilted as Adam tossed him onto the bed. Lander landed in the center of the mattress, bouncing once against the expensive sheets.
“On your stomach,” Adam ordered, leaning on the bedpost.
Lander glanced at the side of the bed, muscles locked. Every instinct screamed at him to run.
“If you run,” Adam said, “I’ll catch you.”
The certainty in those words settled into Lander’s spine. He stayed frozen as Adam crossed the room with unhurried confidence, opened the drawer, and pulled out a bottle of lube.
Lander’s stomach flipped. “Where—”
“I put it there.” Adam smiled slightly. “On your stomach, Lander.”
Then Adam’s power rolled over him, not forcing its way into his mind, but saturating the air with crushing authority. Every cell in Lander’s body recognized what stood behind him: something older, stronger, more dominant than anything he’d ever encountered.
For the first time in his existence, Lander felt like prey.
Under Adam’s presence, he was small and exposed, trapped beneath the attention of something dangerous.
Submit. Obey.
The commands rose from his own thoughts, his mind bowing under the strain of Adam’s presence. Lander clenched his jaw, trying to resist, but it wasn’t compulsion—it was recognition. His own instincts were turning against him.
