Page 84 of Claim of Blood
“Tell that to the Ferragamos,” Johan muttered. “I still have scars.”
His parents’ antics with the footwear might have continued indefinitely if Adam hadn’t brought up recent events. “I assume Erik mentioned our current situation with the local hunters?”
Lander watched his mother’s attention snap to Leo with the kind of focus that made him want to grab the hunter and run. He knew that look. Nothing good ever followed that look.
“The Rothenburgs?” Her eyes lit with delight as they drifted across Leo’s form. “Yes, we have.”
“Mor,” Lander warned, recognizing the tone that had preceded countless mortifying moments. “Perhaps we could discuss hunter politics after everyone’s settled?”
“Midnight cocktails then,” Adam said smoothly, already steering Leo toward the door.
Lander followed, trying very hard not to notice the way his father’s hands were already wandering, or how his mother’s eyes had taken on that particular gleam that had traumatized more than one household staff over the centuries. He shot a sympathetic glance at the servants still organizing shoes with the careful attention of people handling unexploded ordnance.
As they climbed the stairs, a familiar giggle—and a much deeper growl—echoed behind them. Lander quickened his pace, but Adam’s hand landed on the back of his neck, freezing him in place. The change in Adam’s energy was immediate, rolling off him in waves that made Lander’s stomach drop.
They ascended in tense silence. At the threshold of Adam and Leo’s bedroom, Lander hesitated. Just long enough. He hesitated there, just for a moment. Just long enough.
Adam’s composure cracked. Talons bit into Lander’s throat, not enough to draw blood, but close. A low growl vibrated the air.
“You have two choices,” Adam said, voice quiet and lethal. “Enter this room willingly... or I fuck you on these stairs.”
Lander stepped over the threshold.
Chapter Twenty
Adam
Thedoorclosedwitha soft click that seemed to echo in Adam’s bones. The evening’s events crashed over him in waves—Elisabeth’s magical assessment of Leo still burning in his memory like a brand.
She’d been thorough. Invasive, even. Her magic had swept over Leo from the moment they’d met, probing, cataloging, analyzing him like some fascinating specimen. Adam doubted Leo had felt the full extent of her examination, but he had. Every tendril of power ghosting over his claim’s skin, every magical probe testing the bonds between them, every curious exploration of Leo’s emerging abilities.
While Elisabeth wasn’t normally rude, the blatant violation had angered him in ways he hadn’t expected. Leo was his. His to protect, to claim, to shield from prying senses. The fact that it had been Lander’s mother only made it worse—a reminder that even among allies, Leo would always be something to study rather than simply accepted.
And then he’d seen Lander standing there in the doorway, watching with that careful neutrality he wore like armor, and something in Adam had simply snapped.
He couldn’t lash out at Elisabeth—she was a guest, an ally, Lander’s mother. Diplomatic necessity demanded he swallow his rage. But the fury had to go somewhere. And Lander... Lander washis. His Court member, his to command, his to take his frustrations out on when supernatural politics tied his hands.
It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t rational. But fairness had never been part of vampiric hierarchy, and Adam was too old, too powerful, too used to getting what he wanted to pretend otherwise.
The need to dominate crashed through him like a physical force—primal, overwhelming. Not the blood-deep pull he felt toward Leo. This was something else entirely: a violent urge to assert control. To make Lander submit in ways that had nothing to do with compatibility and everything to do with power.
He inhaled sharply, caught off guard by the intensity of his reaction to Lander’s presence. This wasn’t rational. This wasn’t controlled. This was pure instinct, clawing at his restraint with merciless persistence.
Lander’s tall frame seemed to fill the room, hair falling in messy waves, eyes wary. Confusion furrowed his brow, tension coiled in his shoulders. He shouldn’t affect Adam this way. And yet...
Lander’s presence was a challenge—one Adam felt compelled to meet.
“Strip.” The command left his lips before he could second-guess it, authority vibrating beneath the single word.
Lander froze, eyes widening. “Adam, I don’t—”
“Now.” The word cracked through the air like a whip, and Adam’s gaze flared dangerous and bright. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”
Lander’s fingers trembled as they moved to his shirt buttons, each motion hesitant. He paused halfway through, conflict written clear across his face.
“I’m not sure this is—”
“You’ll do as you’re told,” Adam growled, power rolling off him until the air itself seemed to thicken. “Or I’ll tear those clothes off you myself. Your choice.”
