Page 53 of Claim of Blood
Leo blinked. “You’re serious?”
Lander’s mouth curved. “That’s one theory. Without sunlight, we can’t produce vitamin D naturally, so we take it from those who walk in the sun.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“I thought so too,” Lander admitted. “But it’s the best explanation any researcher has offered. The truth is, no one fully knows why we need it. Only that we do.”
Leo finished his coffee, the idea making him smile despite himself. For all the extensive records the hunters kept, they’d never questioned why vampires drank blood.
They left the café, and as they walked, Leo caught curious glances, some openly hostile, others merely wary. He realized that his safety depended not on acceptance, but on Adam’s authority.
They continued into the deeper halls of the underground complex, past more alcoves where Court members gathered in low conversation. A few nodded politely to Lander. Others simply stared.
“In here,” Lander said as they stepped into a larger open space.
The recreation area buzzed with life. Vampires and shifters played pool, while others occupied VR stations along the far wall.
Leo’s gaze snagged on a tall, broad-shouldered man with blond hair. For a moment, he struggled to place the face, then memory flashed. The Council chamber. The weight of a hand pinning him to a table.
“Nathaniel Warren,” he said, his voice low.
Lander nodded. “You remember.”
“Vaguely. Everything from that night is...blurry.”
As if sensing them, Nathaniel looked up. His nostrils flared. Recognition flickered across his face, followed by amusement.
“Well, well. The hunter returns, fully clothed this time.” He set down his pool cue and walked over. “Last I saw you, you were naked, reeking of fresh claiming, and hooked up to IV bags.” His grin was feral. “You smell more settled now.”
Leo felt heat crawl up his neck. “And you still smell like wet dog.”
A tense heartbeat passed before Nathaniel’s laugh broke the silence, deep and genuine. “He’s got teeth! Good. You’ll need them.” The shifter glanced at Lander. “Adam left you as babysitter?”
“Guide,” Lander corrected. “And yes.”
Nathaniel looked back at Leo. “Word of advice. Your claiming stirred things up. Some see it as protection, a sign Adam won’t tolerate attacks. Others see it as provocation.”
“I didn’t ask to be claimed,” Leo said, voice sharper than he intended.
“Nobody asks for fate,” Nathaniel replied. “But you’re part of the Court’s politics now, whether you want it or not.” He gestured toward a group of younger vampires watching from the corner. “The modern faction sees you as progress. The traditionalists see you as contamination.” He picked up his cue again. “Figure out which allies you need before you need them.”
As they moved on, Leo whispered, “There are factions?”
“Of course. Any society as old as ours develops political divisions. The younger vampires want more integration with human society. The older generation prefers separation and tradition.” He paused. “Your claiming has become symbolic to both sides.”
“Great,” Leo muttered. “I’m a political football.”
Lander’s lips quirked. “More like a living referendum.”
“That’s so much better.”
Further along, they passed more intimate gathering spaces—rooms with just fireplaces and comfortable couches, designed for quiet conversation.
“And this,” Lander said as they entered another large space, “is our bar. It’s closed at the moment.”
The space featured a well-appointed bar along one wall and a small, yet elegant, dance floor in the center.
“Most Court members prefer to go into Porte du Coeur proper for entertainment,” Lander explained. “But sometimes it’s nice not to make the drive.”
