Bloodbound to the Witch Heir: Claimed By Four

Luther’s POV

*****

Since last night—every time he glanced at her. Anytime he was less than ten feet away. Anytime he spoke a word aimed at her... It always felt wrong.

Off.

Celeste—

He could still remember the pain and betrayal in her eyes when she saw him on her bed with Lysandra. If you asked him why they were in that room in the first place, well...

The last thing he remembered was having a little too much to drink and then wandering into Celeste’s room to grab something. Or was it to drop something?

Oh, right! He was going to drop a breakup letter.

Their relationship had been straining. Especially after two weeks ago when she ran off and almost got herself killed by Vein beasts.

Besides, he had feelings for someone else.

Lysandra.

She’d put a new meaning to the term "stolen his heart". He couldn’t recall how or why—but there was just something magnetic about her.

They’d been seeing each other, but he had always kept a distance. Always told her he couldn’t do anything to hurt Celeste. Not until he officially breaks up with her, at least.

However—

"Let’s not deny the connection, Luther." Lysandra had whispered after following him to Celeste’s room that night.

She closed the door behind herself, placing both hands on her waist and pushing a leg forward. Just enough to reveal her thighs underneath the knee-high dress, making his pulse stutter.

"L–Lysandra." He squeezed the break-up letter, hiding it behind himself. "What the hell? You aren’t supposed to be here—"

"Why?" She drawled, taking slow provocative steps forward. "I noticed how disoriented you were after your drinks and decided to check up on you. Never expected you’d..."

Pausing, she scanned her eyes around the room. It was less of a "room" and more of an open suite—the door leading into a bedroom with two beds and then an arched entrance on the south wall leading into a living room and bathroom.

"... Bring yourself here." Lysandra continued, her lips curving into a broader smirk. She inched closer, Luther’s lips puckering when she was a few feet away. "Why? Did you leave anything here?"

Luther’s jaw tightened.

’Tell her to mind her fucking business.’ his wolf growled internally. ’She has no right to interrogate you. We’re not wussies—are we?’

No... He wasn’t.

Raising a finger, Luther was about to tell her to leave—until he noticed the hand he’d raised. The hand with the letter!

"Well, well..." Lysandra snatched it before he could keep it away, giggling like it was a game. "Is this a handwritten letter?"

His fists clenched, instincts already driving him to take it back by any means. He lunged, grabbing her wrist in a flash and forcing her to look into his eyes.

"Lysandra... Stop." He muttered, their faces mere inches away from each other.

Those stormy eyes stared back at him with surprise. And something else. Something soft that made his entire resolve shatter, shoulders relaxing as well.

Lysandra’s lips quirked. "What are you so worked up about?" She leaned closer, lips dangerously close to brushing against his. "It’s just a letter. How bad can it be?"

’Take that thing back. Luther? Are you fucking deaf or is our link faltering?’ his wolf scolded him. ’What has gotten into you recently? This is no way for an Alpha to act.’

His body trembled with agitation but he didn’t say a word. His features were a mask of calm as Lysandra opened the letter, arching a brow.

"Dear, Celeste..." She began, cheeks swelling with an amused grin. "Do you still remember the first letter I wrote you? The one where I asked you to be mine. Silas called it old school... Ooops!"

Luther’s eyes widened when the letter suddenly erupted in flames, turning it to ash instantly. The ash drifted off, fading away like they never existed.

"Wow." She huffed while Luther was still disoriented. "That was a long string of unnecessary paragraphs for a simple break-up letter." Her right hand found his shoulder, gripping tightly. But not too tight. "Don’t you think, Luther?"

She drew closer, the intoxicating scent of her perfume filling his senses.

Her other hand slung around his neck, pulling him nearer until their noses touched. "You’re an Alpha, Luther. With one of the most powerful wolves in all of Europe and beyond." She paused, making sure his gaze didn’t leave hers for a second. "You shouldn’t ask to get what you want. You simply..."

Slowly, she brought her lips to his right ear. His legs already ached with something sinful but he didn’t move, even when she whispered:

"... Take. Without asking. Without apology." Her warm breath was like a gentle caress. "Because that’s what true Alphas do."

Take...

When she withdrew her lips, eyelashes fluttering—Luther lost control. He couldn’t remember who kissed first, but they were on a bed in a heartbeat.

And the rest? Well—

.

.

"Luther!" Lysandra’s piercing screech in the present day made him snap out of his moment of reminiscence.

He shook his head, eyes landing on her on the ground beside him. After she’d started—and lost—a telekinetic duel against Celeste.

They were in front of one of the female dormitory buildings, surrounded by a swarm of students who either gasped at Lysandra’s sorry state or murmured amongst themselves.

"Touch her and you’ll regret being born." A familiar voice he’d grown to loathe so fast, sliced through the commotion.

He raised his head, gaze immediately landing on Celeste.

She stood a few meters ahead, her book clutched to her chest. Her eyes quivered, settling on him for just a breath before her neck whipped back to the voice’s source.

Azrael.

Of course, it was.

The witch moved past the crowd with purpose, right hand leaving the sunglasses he adjusted over his nose. He got to Celeste in a heartbeat, standing beside her and grabbing her palm.

When Luther saw the way she winced at his touch, something snapped in him. Something overwhelmingly possessive.

’Grab her!’ his wolf howled. ’She’s ours. Don’t let another man claim her.’

A low growl rumbled from Luther’s chest as he got on his feet. He glared at Azrael who merely stared back with an unimpressed expression. The latter’s eyes scanned through the place in seconds.

"Ganging up on someone," Azrael finally remarked, lips curling slightly. "...Who you mock so much to be ’powerless’." His eyes trailed past the faces of every student present.

Silence.

Not even a whisper was heard from anyone. All because of ONE man.

"It speaks volumes about how pathetic you kids are." Azrael turned his head to Luther at that last part. Making sure he knew he was referring to him.

It was at that point that the students went into an uproar. But Azrael didn’t linger long, swerving his head to Celeste slowly. Almost reverently, eyes skimming her face.

"Come." He gestured at the building’s entrance. Then he pulled closer to her face, whispering something in a way that made Luther’s stomach coil.

After the whisper, Celeste quietly followed him. Everyone in their path gave way without hesitation, restricted to gawking and muttering.

Luther watched her leave. With him. The girl who was supposed to be his mate—was also mated to three others.

"Fuck my life." His accent nearly slipped.

"Wow, thank you for helping me up, Luther." Lysandra’s sarcasm was sharp enough to cut. He blinked, watching her get on her feet after a little struggle. "You’re my prince charming."

He parted his lips to speak but she rolled her eyes. With a snap of her fingers, she fixed her hair and also signalled her friends to come to them.

"Goddess, are you okay, Lysandra?" Mia, ever the doting lap dog, was the first to show concern. "Did she scratch you? I—"

"That wolfless Princess didn’t do anything." Lysandra raised a hand, cutting her off abruptly. Squinting, she brought her gaze to the only witch in her friend group. Natasha. "You felt it too, right? Another magic signature interfering."

Luther frowned.

Huh?

"Yes." Nat nodded, placing a hand on her waist. "Celeste was bound to lose. I felt it... Until he showed up."

He—Azrael?

It was then that Luther understood what they were driving at.

"I knew I wasn’t imagining things." Lysandra chuckled dryly, her eyes glinting with something sinister. She side-eyed Luther for a second before staring at nothing in particular. "Azrael Vaelmont. You just made yourself an enemy."

While she plotted gods knows what... Luther couldn’t help craning his neck at the dormitory building. And then he could only wonder one thing:

What were those two up to?

The answer seemingly hovered just out of reach... like everything lately.