Bloodbound to the Witch Heir: Claimed By Four

Atlas’ POV

*****

Montecito, 2:10 pm.

Talking to the police wasn’t all that difficult.

Especially when Atlas noticed the chief was a witch as well. He gave accounts of everything that happened and was able to prove that their group acted in self-defence.

All while handing Luther a totem to help his wolf heal his wounds.

Most Alphas had fantastic healing abilities. Until the source of the injury was a supernatural source. In this case—another Alpha.

"I said I’ll be fine," Luther pushed Atlas’ outstretched hand when he tried giving him another totem. "I just... Need to rest a bit. Maybe take some whiskey too."

They’d gotten in front of the beach house, Celeste and Silas walking beside Luther in case he needed support. Despite his persistent reassurance that he needed none.

"Quit the stubbornness." Azrael blurted beside Atlas, tone deappan. "Those totems should help your wolf heal."

Luther paused, glancing over his shoulder. "And who said my wolf is incapable of healing a few scratches?"

"Scratches?" Celeste was in disbelief. "L–Luther, you—"

"I said I’ll be fine." He raised a hand, stopping her. His eyes closed for a beat, silence making way to the sounds of seagulls and the gentle ocean waters. "Celeste, don’t bother yourself. None of you should."

His blue eyes swept past all their faces, landing a bit longer on Atlas.

Then he continued moving, Silas being the only one who chased after him into the house.

"It’s a shame we didn’t slaughter those worms," Azrael mumbled under his breath, advancing past Atlas. "If only those officers had—"

"The ’Odessa Accords’ specifically forbid avoidable killings between witches and wolves, Azrael." Atlas tilted his head at him. "You should know this."

All Azrael gave was a faint smile. "Yet those who lurk in darkness still do as they please. You saw what they did to Luther. If he were any less competent, we would’ve dragged the man here in a body bag."

Atlas mouth pursed.

He couldn’t argue with all that.

With a small sigh, Azrael shifted his face to Celeste. "I’ll be inside, little miss. Are you okay?"

Celeste blinked once, a wry smile stretching her lips. "I... Don’t know how to answer that. But I’ll be fine, Azrael. Thank you."

As Vaelmont progressed into the beach house, Atlas’s head spun to Celeste. She stood, quiet and distant. Slowly, her body turned to the waves, a small breath slipping past her mouth.

"Today I learnt just how little being the ’continent’s princess’ means." She mumbled, smiling at Atlas.

An invitation if he’s ever seen any.

He moved to her side, content with doing nothing more than listening to her. Anything at all that she had to say would be better than a thousand poems.

Especially now that he could hear them alone.

"For years," Celeste went on, oblivious of his thoughts, "people around me have looked at me with pity. A hybrid girl unable to cast the simplest spells. The daughter of some of the most powerful people in the world... Tied. Weak."

She paused, laughing bitterly. "Then I got into Bloodoak Academy. I thought a school my parents founded would be more accepting." Her eyes lifted to Atlas’. "You know the rest."

Atlas felt her emotions through the bond. Her exhaustion. Her sadness. The buried fear.

All of it rushed into him too fast.

Taking in a shuddering breath, Atlas muttered. "You didn’t deserve all that."

"Oh, I know." Celeste shrugged. "But it is what it is. You know..." She frowned, "The funniest and most confusing part has to be my magic outbursts recently. And now the word about ’control’. What happened in that restaurant was NOT controlled at all."

Atlas inhaled slowly, letting the sea air steady him.

"It wasn’t uncontrolled," he said at last. "It was... unrestrained. There’s a difference."

Celeste glanced at him, brows knitting together. "Is there?"

"Yes." He shifted, turning his body slightly toward her. "Uncontrolled magic lashes out blindly. What you did was targeted. You stopped Azrael. You stopped that brute of an Alpha. And you did it without hurting anyone who didn’t deserve it."

Her lips parted, surprise flickering across her face.

Atlas rarely spoke this much. He was aware of it. But some truths demanded to be said aloud.

"You don’t give yourself enough credit," he continued. "You never have."

For a moment, the only sound between them was the tide rolling in, waves collapsing softly against the shore. Celeste’s shoulders sagged, tension bleeding out of her frame as if his words had loosened something knotted too tight inside her.

"I was terrified," she admitted quietly. "Not because of them. But of myself."

Atlas nodded once. "Power does that. Especially when you’ve been told your whole life that you don’t have any."

She huffed out a breath that was almost a laugh. "You make it sound so simple."

"It isn’t," he said. Then, after a beat, "But you’re not alone in it anymore."

That did it.

Celeste turned fully toward him, violet eyes shining—not with magic this time, but something far more human. Before Atlas could process the shift, she stepped closer and wrapped her arms around him.

It wasn’t sudden. Or desperate.

It was warm. Grateful.

Atlas froze for half a second—then carefully rested a hand between her shoulder blades. He could feel her heartbeat through the thin fabric of her clothing.

"Thank you," she murmured against his shoulder. "For always seeing me. Even when I don’t."

Something tight settled in his chest.

When she pulled back, she didn’t move far. Just enough to look at him properly. Her fingers brushed his sleeve once before she leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

It was brief. Innocent. Loaded all the same.

Atlas blinked.

She smiled. "I care about you. I hope you know that."

He did.

Gods help him—he did.

"As do I," he replied, voice even despite the storm under his skin. "More than words allow."

Celeste squeezed his hand once before stepping back toward the house, leaving Atlas by the shore with the echo of her warmth and the undeniable truth settling deep in his bones.

Whatever this bond between them was—

It mattered.