Page 9 of Claim of Blood
“They always cheat,” Leo cut him off. “That’s the point. There are no rules, no fair fights. Only winning matters.”
Felix hesitated, then said, “You’re better than that, Leo. Better than them.”
Leo looked at his cousin. Felix was the only one who looked at him like a warrior, not a disappointment. Not a tool. “Thanks, Felix. I should get ready.”
“Be careful out there,” Felix said.
Leo nodded. “Just standard surveillance. Nothing exciting.”
As a von Rothenburg, as a hunter, Leo’s path had been laid out before he was born. Duty, family, tradition—these were the pillars of his existence, unquestionable and immutable.
Yet as he prepared for surveillance, Adam’s face kept appearing in his mind. The memory of that touch lingered on his skin like a brand, defying every oath he’d sworn.
When Leo came downstairs dressed for duty, he found Katherine and Sabine in the living room, tablets spread between them, displaying images of young men—potential matches for Katherine’s eventual marriage.
“Too stocky,” Katherine was saying, swiping left on a photo of a broad-shouldered hunter.
“He has excellent bloodlines,” Sabine countered. “Seven generations of marked hunters.”
“I don’t care about his bloodlines if I have to look at that face across the breakfast table for the next fifty years.” Katherine swiped again, pausing on the next image. “This one has potential. Where’s he from?”
“Boston. The eldest son of James Reynolds. American hunter line going back only four generations.”
Katherine zoomed in appreciatively. “At least he’s pretty.”
Leo moved past them toward the door, hoping to slip out unnoticed. No such luck.
“Leopold,” Sabine called, her voice sharp. “Remember your instructions. Observation only. No engagement.”
“Yes, Mother.”
“And Leopold?” she added, her eyes cold. “Don’t disappoint us again.”
The words followed him out into the night, a familiar weight on his shoulders. As he walked toward the surveillance point, Leo tried to focus on his duty, on the mission, on anything other than the pull he felt toward the estate he was meant to be watching.
Chapter Three
Leo
Leoslippedoutofthe rental house immediately after dinner, ignoring Friedrich’s pointed glance at the clock. It was six hours before his scheduled patrol—but something had pulled him out the door, an unnamed urgency he couldn’t explain. So he’d muttered something about reconnaissance and disappeared before anyone could object. Now, three hours later, he was still walking the neighborhood streets, drawn deeper into vampire territory with each circuit.
At the corner, a pair of women emerged from a high-gated side yard, laughing quietly as they tossed a neon-yellow tennis ball toward a massive black dog barreling across the grass like a freight train made of fur and unfiltered joy. The animal skidded in the dew-slick lawn, ears flopping wildly, before crashing into a hedge and emerging victorious, tail wagging and mouth full.
Leo watched from the sidewalk, his hunter’s instinct parsing the details automatically. The taller woman, pale and still, dressed in monochrome, stood out immediately. Her stillnesswas too perfect. No idle fidgeting. No weight shift. Just a single, measured glance sweeping the street: calculated, not casual.
Vampire.
The other woman laughed again, nudging her companion in the ribs as she retrieved the ball from the slobber-covered jaws. Human. Leo guessed. Probably. But not afraid.
The other woman laughed again, nudging her companion in the ribs as she retrieved the ball from the slobber-covered jaws. Human, Leo guessed. Probably. But not afraid.
Maybe a blood pet.
He wasn’t close enough to see a mark, but it was possible. He’d heard plenty of stories over the years—gruesome accounts passed down like bedtime fables in the Rothenburg household. Blood pets kept in chains. Used, broken, erased. That’s what happened to humans who let vampires get too close.
But this one was teasing her vampire about throwing like a girl.
And it wasn’t the first time Leo had seen something like that either. The servant who had brought groceries to the estate yesterday had been chatting with the gate guard like an old friend. Two nights ago, a vampire woman had walked a spaniel beside a human man in a sweatsuit, hands brushing now and then as they passed under the security lamps. That same night, Leo had passed a jogger in a light-up vest and neon sneakers. Definitely human. Definitely alone.
