Bloodbound to the Witch Heir: Claimed By Four

Atlas’ POV

*****

Truth or dare.

When the bottle spun and set on him and Luther, a small smile played on his lips.

He watched the young Alpha’s face light up with excitement. As if he were certain that whatever choice he made, he’d be ready.

Atlas would love to test that.

"Truth."

Barely a few seconds after the word dropped from Luther—Atlas’ mouth opened. "You’ve been with Celeste the longest. When did you first realise you were attracted to her?"

He caught Celeste’s cheeks redden from the corner of his eyes.

To his surprise, the lightweight hybrid princess was bold enough to grab an empty glass, pouring some vodka for herself.

"Gentle, little miss." Azrael’s baritone accompanied the rumble of thunder. "You don’t want to take it all at once."

She barely listened, awkwardly taking long sips and then scrunching her face after they went down her throat.

Meanwhile, Luther huffed. "Interesting question. Well..." He paused, head whipping to Celeste’s currently timid form. "... At first when she first enrolled, I didn’t think much. She was just the daughter of some of the most powerful people on the planet."

His blue eyes locked on Atlas, tinged with something pure and true. "It wasn’t until the taunts of her being ’powerless’ that I took an interest. Plus, I’d been noticing her lingering glances any time we crossed paths."

Celeste gasped, nearly spitting out her drink. "Y–You noticed I was already crushing on you?"

Luther grinned cheekily. "It was hard to miss since I already had my attention on you. When I approached—gods, there was just something electric about you."

He reached out to her all of a sudden, making Atlas stiffen.

This was NOT what he had in mind at all.

Luther grabbed Celeste’s reluctant hand, his smile soft. "Before any bonds you managed to ignite a fire in me that none ever has. And all I wanted to keep doing was chasing that fire till I had nothing left for it to take." He chuckled. "You’ve... Ruined me, Celeste. In the best way possible."

Silence.

The only audible sound between them was the thunder vibrating through the air with each flash and the howling winds that carried like disturbed ghosts.

Atlas’ jaw ticked.

"Well..." Silas was the one who broke the tension with a cough. "Let’s carry on then, shall we?"

Luther’s hand slipped off Celeste’s, their eyes never leaving each other.

’Spirits, I should’ve asked about his childhood or something.’ Atlas grumbled mentally but decided to let it slide.

His moment will come soon enough.

This time, he spun the bottle, resting back on his seat as they waited. Silas lit a cigar. Azrael rubbed his knuckles, attention seemingly absent.

Then—

When the bottle stopped, the bottom part faced Azrael. And the head... Celeste!

Atlas’ pulse stuttered while his fellow witch tilted his head with an indifferent pose. "Interesting."

All eyes moved to Celeste.

She blinked, parting back strands of her hair before taking one final gulp from her drink. "I choose dare." Came her answer before anyone even asked.

Too fast. Almost reckless.

But all the more exciting.

"Oh, la, la." Silas whistled. "Are you sure, love?"

"She is," Azrael uncrossed his legs, placing his elbows lazily on his knees. "Now. Little miss..." He stopped for a breath, head angling past all their faces. "I dare you to sit on the lap of the man you think wants you the most."

Atlas’s eyes widened.

He didn’t know what shocked him the most—the dare or the fact that it slipped out of the lips of Azrael Vaelmont.

Since when was he so crude?

"You don’t have to if you don’t want to," Luther remarked, raising a full bottle of a strong whiskey brand. "But then you’ll have to drink a shot of this."

Celeste gawked at them like a cornered deer.

For only a few seconds though.

That’s until an untameable light flickered in those violet orbs. "If you insist..." She got up, brushing down her white gown.

The bond snapped with something white-hot and electric, making Atlas swallow hard.

She was going through with it. She actually wanted to do it.

And the worst part?

Whatever choice she made would absolutely wreck his brain chemistry.

He doubted she’d walk to him.

Of course, she won’t.

Since the bonds awakened he’s given far too much distance. Far too much patience for a man whose nights and days were haunted with remembrance that no matter what, he couldn’t have her to himself.

Many times he has considered getting rid of the others with his magic. Not killing them... Perhaps shifting their attention to other things. Manipulating the playing field.

So, with all this in mind, Atlas relaxed in his seat, tapping his fingers on the armrests. He proceeded to fling his head to the side, heaving quietly.

Soon, he heard her footsteps on the floor.

Slow. Accessing.

She stalled, making him think a choice had finally been made.

Never would he have imagined that a body would rest unhurriedly on his knees, sending instant chills down his spine. "What—?"

He looked forward, blinking with surprise when he saw Celeste adjusting herself onto his lap. Her eyes were glued to him as she wrapped an arm around his neck.

The side of her chest pressed against his in a way that sent fire through his veins. If she shifted even an inch closer, he would forget every rule he had built around her.

Several seconds passed with no one speaking or moving.

They were all probably as stunned as he was.

"Not a decision I saw coming." Azrael finally commented as Celeste got on her feet.

Just on time too—Atlas’s loins were beginning to get strained with desires he wasn’t sure he could hold back for long.

"It’s a truth I feel." Celeste shrugged as she sat. "Atlas has always been quiet about his feelings but they’ve also been the loudest thanks to the bond. To me anyway—maybe I made a hasty decision."

She poured another glass of vodka for herself, fixing her gaze on Atlas. A controlled smirk curved her lips as she added. "Or not..."

Atlas stayed silent and mostly disoriented for what felt like an eternity.

Indeed, his brain had been rewired in ways mere words couldn’t explain.

Fortunately, his mate took the lead this time, teeming with confidence.

She spun the bottle, sipping more from her glass.

The storm loudened above them but that did nothing to shake their attention.

The game had become heated.

As the bottle slowed, Atlas didn’t pray for mercy.

He prayed it would land on her again.