Page 120 of Claim of Blood
Adam deposited Lander gently on the empty side of the mattress. Before Lander could move, Leo stirred, eyes opening briefly before closing again. With a soft sound, Leo rolled toward him, arms wrapping around Lander’s waist, face pressing against his chest.
“He’s a clinger,” Adam explained. “Has been since the beginning.”
Lander froze, unsure how to respond to the unexpected contact. Leo nuzzled closer, seemingly unbothered by Lander’s tension.
The mattress dipped as Adam slid in behind Lander, one arm draping over his waist, hand resting on Leo’s hip.
“Sleep,” Adam murmured against the back of Lander’s neck. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”
Sandwiched between them, Lander felt his eyelids grow heavy. Despite his intention to stay awake and think through the implications of what had happened, exhaustion pulled him under.
His last conscious thought was how right it felt, caught between these two bodies. One warm with humanity, one cool with ancient power. Like coming home to something he never knew he was missing.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Lander
Landerdriftedtoconsciousnessbetween two bodies. For a disorienting moment, he couldn’t place himself until the scents registered.
Blood. Power. Adam.
And something brighter, fresher. Leo.
Reality snapped into focus.
Memories of last night rushed back. Not just the intensity or the pleasure, but what made it different. Last night, Adam hadn’t used his power to force Lander’s submission—that overwhelming pressure that demandedsubmit-submit-submitand left no room for choice.
For the first time, he’d chosen it.
A soft, needy sound caught his attention. Leo was pressed against him, making little sleep-noises while his fingers clutched possessively at Lander’s shoulders. The hunter clung to him like Lander might disappear if he loosened his grip.
Strange, being held like this. In two and a half centuries, Lander had always been the one doing the holding.
“He’s quite affectionate in his sleep,” Adam’s amused voice murmured directly into Lander’s ear, sending an involuntary shiver down his spine. “Unlike someone who tries to maintain his dignity even in unconsciousness.”
Lander attempted a scoff, but managed only a strangled breath as Adam’s hand slid deliberately along his hip.
“You’re still fighting it,” Adam observed, his tone carrying no judgment, only patience.
“This shouldn’t be possible,” Lander whispered, keeping his voice low enough not to wake Leo. “One vampire, one claim. That’s the way it’s always been.”
Six months ago, his biggest worry had been whether the Brussels interviews would run over schedule and delay the opening of the Belgian office. He’d spent weeks coordinating staffing, planning cultural integration seminars, and managing the endless logistics of expanding Nocturne internationally. Normal, manageable problems with clear solutions. Now he was lying naked in the First’s bed, marked by fangs that shouldn’t have been able to mark him, craving submission from someone he’d been scheduling quarterly reviews with.
It wasn’t that any of this was bad. It was that none of it had been the plan.
Adam’s laugh was dark and rich against the back of Lander’s neck. “And yet, here we are.” His hand moved to brush against the side of Lander’s throat, finding the barely perceptible indentation of fang marks that healed hours ago. “Your body understands what your mind still resists.”
Lander turned his head slightly, meeting Adam’s eyes over his shoulder. “How are you so calm about this? This breaks everything we know about claims.”
“We know very little about claims. And… I’ve lived a very long time,” Adam said, his voice soft but steady. “Long enough to know that some rules aren’t as absolute as we think.”
“But you’re the First. If anyone should uphold our traditions—”
“Magic doesn’t care about our traditions.” Adam’s fingers traced the marks on Lander’s neck again. “It follows its own path.”
Lander frowned. “You make it sound like it’s alive.”
“Maybe it is. Maybe it just knows what it needs.” Adam’s gaze grew distant. “And right now, it seems to need this.”
