Bloodbound to the Witch Heir: Claimed By Four

Celeste’s POV

*****

Montecito, 8:20 PM

Gods, I don’t know if it was the alcohol talking or the high from the game itself. Or maybe the exhilarating feeling of being wanted by four hot men at once.

But by Hekate’s keys, I was over the moon!

This game of truth or dare, as simple and ’adolescent’ as it was, sparked something in me I haven’t felt in months. Or ever if I’m being serious.

And now with Silas daring me to kiss each of them and Azrael warning me to be careful... oh, did I feel like causing some chaos!

Slowly, I walked to Azrael first.

His glasses made it hard to guess his feelings or how much effect this was having on him.

But it doesn’t matter.

The bond snapped, leaving him bare to me like an open book.

Hunger. Curiosity. Confusion.

Even the way his thighs tightened underneath his robe was a tell.

When I got in front of him, I waited. I watched him for several seconds, not doing or saying anything during that time.

Then—I lowered myself to his level, placing both hands on either side of the armrests. Heat pooled in my chest, my gaze trailing to his lips.

They were thin. Almost dry other than the red wine tinting them.

"You’re afraid?" I asked, daringly bringing a hand to his knee. He stiffened, his lips quivering into something.

Not a smirk. Not quite.

But something dangerous and predatory.

"I should be asking you that, Celeste." He lulled, tone still tinted with warning. "Aren’t you afraid this will lead you down a path of no return?"

"Who said anything about returning?" Was all I uttered before my eyes batted shut.

My lips pressed against his. Burning. Like a sin I’ve craved and finally got the chance to indulge in again.

Goddess, it felt better than the last time.

So much better.

At first, he didn’t kiss back. Just for a second or two.

When he did though? Time came to a complete halt.

His hands found my waist, fingers digging in a way that made a reckless moan slip past my mouth.

The sound seemed to unlock something ancient in him. And in me as well.

Magic sparked.

Literally.

A pulse of silver heat flared between our mouths, sharp and electric. It slid down my spine and curled low in my belly like liquid starlight. Azrael’s grip tightened as if he felt it too—his composure fracturing in real time.

His lips moved with sudden intent, no longer restrained, and the air around us shimmered faintly—like heat rising from stone. My fingers tangled in the collar of his robe, dragging him closer as something inside me answered him instinctively.

The bond roared.

A low growl vibrated in his chest before he forced himself to pull back. Barely. 𝒻𝑟𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝑛𝘰𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝘤𝘰𝘮

His forehead rested against mine, breath uneven. "You’re playing with forces you don’t understand," he murmured.

"Then teach me," I whispered.

I didn’t give him time to respond, turning to my next target.

Atlas was already watching me.

Not stunned or confused.

But hungry.

I approached him more slowly.

He didn’t move as I stepped between his knees. His hands rested calmly on the armrests, but the pulse at his throat betrayed him.

"You felt that," I said softly.

"Yes."

I leaned down, brushing my nose lightly against his before our lips met.

Finally.

Atlas kissed like he cast spells—precise.

And the second our mouths pressed together, something inside him ignited.

Warmth flared from his chest outward, wrapping around us like invisible silk. His magic didn’t snap. It bloomed, golden and steady.

It threaded into mine, weaving instead of clashing. My breath caught as the connection deepened, my power rising instinctively to meet his. Silver light flickered faintly behind my eyelids.

His hand slid to the small of my back, anchoring.

The kiss deepened, claiming in its patience. As if he’d waited far too long to taste me properly.

When I pulled away, his restraint was hanging by a thread.

"Celeste," he warned softly.

I just smiled.

Luther didn’t wait for me to reach him.

He stood.

His hands cupped my face before I could even say a word, blue eyes searching mine like he was making sure this was real.

We’d broken each other once.

Thought distance would kill whatever burned between us.

It hadn’t.

It had fed it.

When he kissed me, it wasn’t tentative. It was desperate.

Not rough—but urgent.

Like he’d been starving and only just realised it.

Every fight. Every misunderstanding. Every lonely night we’d spent apart—it all poured into that single kiss.

His thumb brushed my cheek as if memorising me all over again.

"I never stopped," he breathed against my lips.

"I know," I answered, kissing him again.

The heat between us was different. Comfortable in its intensity.

When I stepped away, my knees were weak.

Silas was the last.

Sweet, steady Silas...

I approached him more slowly than the others.

He looked at me like I might shatter.

For a second, when our lips met, it felt like an apology. Soft. Gentle.

A quiet acknowledgement of everything shifting between us.

My hand rested against his chest, feeling his heart race under my palm.

"I’m not losing you," he whispered.

"You’re not," I promised.

And then something changed.

His hand slid to my waist, pulling me closer. The softness remained—but hunger slipped in beneath it. A quiet, consuming warmth that matched mine perfectly.

Our kiss deepened, not frantic but full. Like we were rediscovering each other in real time.

When I finally pulled away from him, silence swallowed the balcony.

Four men. Breathing heavier. Eyes darker.

Magic humming through the air like a live wire.

Luther cleared his throat and reached for the bottle. "Let’s go again—"

But I was already on my feet.

My skin felt overheated. My dress clung in ways it hadn’t before. My thighs pressed together instinctively, betraying how soaked with want I’d become.

I took a slow step backwards toward the balcony doors.

Then another.

My gaze locked onto them one by one.

A silent invitation. And a challenge.

I walked away without rushing. Every step and sway intentional.

Waiting to see if they’d follow.

For half a heartbeat, no one moved.

Then—

Footsteps.

Azrael.

His presence closed in behind me first, dark and decisive.

And the others followed.

Like they were under a spell.