Bloodbound to the Witch Heir: Claimed By Four

Luther’s POV

*****

Montecito, 7:48 PM

"Since when do you walk around in a robe?" He questioned Azrael when he stepped onto the balcony.

The broody witch sat with one leg crossed over the other, long black hair wet and shading both sides of his face. Atlas sat to his left and Silas to his right, the former’s mouth parted like he was in the middle of saying something.

Luther rested against the edge of the balcony entrance, squinting through the heavy wind blowing into the balcony. "And those sunglasses. Do you ever take them off?"

Azrael’s expression didn’t shift as he swirled a glass of wine in his grip. "That’s so much interest in my affairs, Luther. I believe this gathering was serene before you showed up."

"Still haven’t answered my questions."

"Gods, Luther." Silas got up too hastily, chuckling as he wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "Can we not drag things? Especially not tonight."

His brother led him to a free seat, placing him there while never letting go of his shoulders. Then, Silas whispered into his ear. "We’ve all freshened up and thought it’d be good to lounge here. Maybe... Get to know ourselves more."

Luther arched a brow for a moment before it changed to a cocky smirk. "I guess now that we’re officially ’sharing’ our mate, being domestic should be the new normal."

Atlas laughed, a short, hearty sound. "When you put it like that it makes it sound like she’s a meal to devour."

Azrael chimed with a snigger. "These wolves aren’t beating the allegations."

For the first time in days, Luther actually found some form of camaraderie amongst these men. Back when he was still under Lysandra’s spell, he would rather stick a foot in a bucket of nails than take a remark like that from Azrael Vaelmont.

With one last pat on his shoulder, Silas pulled away. "Speaking of our mate—I’ll go get Celeste. Hopefully this storm doesn’t force us to go inside."

As his Beta left the balcony, Luther made himself comfortable, grabbing a bottle of vodka. He poured himself a glass, all while noticing the way the witches watched him.

Almost too attentively.

It was only after taking his first sip that he raised his head to their gazes. "What?"

Atlas exchanged a glance with Azrael before adjusting his short-sleeve beach shirt. "I’m guessing it’s no coincidence that you came in here... Like that."

He gestured at Luther’s shirtless torso, a knowing smile tugging the corner of his lips.

Luther frowned, genuinely confused. "I... Just finished bathing? Didn’t bother finding a shirt while searching for you guys."

"Convenient excuse," Azrael muttered. "Why haven’t you gone to put on a shirt now? With Silas bringing in Celeste soon."

At that moment, Luther noticed the suggestive tone in their questions.

Heat swelled in his cheeks against his will. "You two are pervs if you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking."

"If making an observation means we’re perveted—fine." Atlas grinned, telekinetically bringing a glass to his hand. "But do know you’re not the only one ready to set his cards out tonight."

The witch winked, not bothering to speak further.

Meanwhile, lightning flashed irregularly above them, painting the earth white. Luther pinned his eyes on the clouds.

A feeling he couldn’t explain thrummed through the bond just then. Making him shift on his seat uneasily.

Azrael and Atlas tried keeping cool but they had similar reactions.

That... That wasn’t random.

"I’m guessing I’m not the only one who felt that," Azrael murmured, taking down the last of his wine. "Should we go check—"

Silas returned just then, throwing his head back when he sat down. "She’s having her bath. She’ll be out here soon."

"And she’s okay?"

"Yes." Silas nodded once. "Anyway, I’m getting bored. Any suggestions on what we can do when she shows up?"

Luther was still shaken up by what he felt through the bond. Was he imagining things or did he hear Celeste’s moan at the back of his mind?

’Well, someone is horny...’ his wolf mocked in his head. ’And I won’t blame you. Especially after our mate’s confession during brunch today.’

Right.

Ever since Celeste casually dropped that he’ll always be her first love, he’s been over the moon.

"Ahem." Silas’ forced cough snapped him back to reality. "Brother, would you have any ideas? Atlas and Azrael just said they don’t."

The latter didn’t utter a word for a few seconds, just staring into the night sky.

Until an arguably brilliant idea struck him.

"What about truth or dare?"

The second he let that out, Atlas doubled over, neatly choking on his drink.

Azrael, on the other hand, seemed curious. "Truth or dare. Would Celeste like that?"

"By the spirits," Atlas heaved, dropping his glass after getting air flowing into him again. "A game like that could go south really quickly. Ruin our attempts at keeping things emotionally regulated between us."

"Or..." Silas spoke before Luther could. "It could open us to fully accepting our true desires. And hers as well."

Luther smirked to himself.

They can say whatever they want.

He was already imagining all the delicious ways this could turn out.

Finally, Celeste’s familiar spring-like scent wafted into his nostrils before she appeared on the balcony, making him sit up with an expectant grin.

When she finally walked in, her cheeks were reddened, and her lush black hair wet, falling down her shoulders. She wore a white sleeveless silk dress that reached her knees, her eyes sweeping past all their faces.

"There she is!" Luther beamed despite himself, his grin never disappearing.

As she sat down and Atlas revealed what they planned to play—Luther observed every change in her expression.

Confusion. Understanding. More confusion. Embarrassment. Even fear.

Then... It settled into a decisiveness that only spiked his excitement.

"Who’s going first?" She questioned.

Without any argument, Luther took the liberty of clearing the table of the bottles. He set an empty whiskey bottle at the centre of the table, adjusting it until all five of them sat in a perfect circle.

He spun it, sitting back with his arms folded.

Tension burned in the air as the bottle kept on spinning.

When it stopped—the bottom part faced Atlas. And the head?

Luther.

He tilted his head at the witch as he rubbed his chin with a thoughtful look.

"Truth or dare, Luther?"

"Truth." He blurted without hesitation, unbothered by the way all eyes were pinned on him.

This should be fun.

If Atlas wanted honesty, Luther would give it to him. Raw. Unfiltered. And entirely too dangerous.