Bloodbound to the Witch Heir: Claimed By Four

Azrael’s POV

*****

"So... Here we are." Celeste chuckled awkwardly when she and Azrael got in front of her door.

Azrael stood at the side, watching her fiddle aimlessly with the lock. It was just one key card.

"Need a hand with that?" He found himself asking, a small smirk tugging his lips.

She froze, clutching the card. "No... I... It’s just." She let out a breath, closing her eyes for a moment. Then she turned to face him, all while he took note of every movement.

Watching her was like watching a flower through its phases in real time. Beautiful. Peaceful. In her own little world.

"Azrael... Thank you." She ended up saying after what felt like forever.

The words echoed off the hallway walls, sparking an odd desire in him.

Still, he arched his brow. "For what?"

"You know..." She gestured. "For what you did out there. Stepping in when I was about to embarrass myself in a telekinetic duel."

Silence.

Azrael didn’t know how to feel about that.

Earlier today, the Dean had summoned them—him, Celeste and those overgrown boys—and basically revealed that he knew about the mate bond. Knew about Celeste being mated to four men.

Since then, he hasn’t seen the girl. Instead, he was forced to get used to all these lectures that had no use to him. That was until his final class—

He could smell her. From hundreds of feets away. Her fear. Her desperation. Her sweet, intoxicating rage. And he’d been drawn to it.

Just like that night in the forest.

"Azrael?" A snap of her fingers in front of his face made him blink. He stared into those violet eyes, noting how they flickered with hesitation and something else. Something dangerous. "I appreciate you for escorting me here as you promised... But you’ve really got to go."

The way her voice shook with uncertainty told him she didn’t really want him gone. No. Rather, she was afraid.

So, he took a step forward. "Why?"

Her eyes widened, darting around the almost empty hallway. Two girls giggled behind her, walking into their room without even noticing them.

"W–Why?" Celeste repeated the question as if it were an insane thing to ask. "Azrael... This is the girls’ dorm. You’re a guy. You can’t—"

She was cut short by a sound behind Azrael. They both turned, just in time to spot a couple. The girl grabbed the boy by his arms, grinning as she pulled him into her room. They were already taking off their clothes before they locked the door.

Azrael snorted, turning back to Celeste. Her face was redder than a tomato, but he still felt like teasing. "I expected people at this academy to have more... Decorum."

Rubbing her forehead, she looked away. Her black hair fell over her shoulders, exposing her neck.

Instantly, Azrael’s pulse stuttered.

He swallowed, eyes narrowing on the soft, porcelain-like skin. On the veins—

Hunger as he’d never felt in ages consumed him, so much so that he didn’t know when he grabbed her chin.

"What are you—" her eyes widened like she’d seen a ghost, shoulders tensing. But he ignored, driven by pure instinct.

Once the distance between them was merely a breath, he leaned in. She shook under his hold—but didn’t move away. Didn’t hit him.

He’s seen how feisty she can get so he knew what she was capable of in a situation like this. Yet she did nothing.

They stayed staring for what felt like eternity. His eyes roamed, from her full lips, to her neck again... And then lower.

The air between them was electric. Sparking with heat, lust and everything forbidden.

"I..." He could feel it. The last shred of his control shedding from his teeth.

His mouth opened, gaping as he leaned closer to her neck.

"Azrael..." A sound, sinful and needy, rolled out of her lips, making him even more restless. Less restrained.

By the High One, what’s happening to him?!

"Uhm..." The sudden interruption of a voice behind him made him pause. But he didn’t let go of Celeste.

He glanced over his shoulder, gaze locking on a familiar face. That friend of hers... Willow.

The wolf stood a few paces away with a stunned expression, eyes flickering between him and her friend. Behind her, other students had begun trooping into this floor, some already spotting him.

Gods.

"W–Willow!" Celeste yelped, immediately stumbling out of Azrael’s hold. "I... We..." She struggled with words, fingers pointing at Azrael and then herself in an almost comedic fashion. "Goddess, he was just seeing me off. Y’know... After what happened with Lysandra and all."

For an odd reason, his fingers felt cold without her skin between them. Colder than usual, at least.

Slowly, he took two steps back. He gazed at her like she was an enigma. Because she was. The first person ever to stir such... Hunger in him.

"I mean..." Willow still tried sounding casual. "I could come back later if you guys want. I’ve got some books to collect from the library anyway and—"

"No need." He huffed, turning on his heel. Then, adjusting his glasses, he glanced back at Celeste. "See you at the memorial, little miss."

With that, he left, walking past Willow and the other students who tried eavesdropping from a distance.

You’d think people of this era would have a better sense of minding their business...

.

.

7:00 pm. Male dormitory.

His suite was spacious. Generous for a second-year student, even. The perks that came with the wealthy surname he stole.

All the lights were off in every room and he just lingered by a window in his study. Staring at the moon and her silver light painting the academy below.

His right hand held a half-filled glass of wine. The other brushed his ring almost absent-mindedly.

The string of events these past two weeks flooded his mind. Him saving Celeste. The High One sending him here to "keep a closer eye" on her. And then this... Mate bond.

And the murder of that woman...

He was loyal but he was no fool.

All these were no mere coincidences. They were connected somehow. Like someone or something was controlling chess pieces at the right moments.

"Oh, moon goddess..." He murmured, voice dripping with disdain. "How does your so-called ’blessing’ touch one like me? One who’s bathed in hundreds of your children’s blood."

She wouldn’t answer. Of course, she wouldn’t.

Mysterious ways and whatever the priests say.

Downing the rest of his wine, he dropped the glass on a table beside the window. There were books and parchment barely held together littered on it.

He had a memorial to attend. So he’d better make this meeting quick.

Stretching out his right hand, he stared at his ring. Took note of every detail like it was his first time—the silver shine, the blood red sigil glowing faintly under the moon’s light.

Everything.

Then, he closed his eyes. "I stand here with my object of office. And I call upon you... Fellow servant of the High One."

Wind whooshed through the window behind him, blowing strands of his hair over his face. He didn’t stop, continuing the final part of the summoning incantation.

"Amunira. Daughter of the sunless night. Come to me."

As the wind sweeping into his room increased, he slowly opened his eyes. He could already smell her. Death, flowers and desert spring.

"How does a summoning spell sound so... sexy?" That voice. That sly, seductive voice.

When his eyes opened fully, there she was.

Amunira.

Tall and dressed in a black silk abaya opened at her sides from the knee down, revealing just enough skin to kill. A silk veil shielded her face, yet left her kohl-lined eyes visible. Her skin was golden brown, untouched by time.

Second in command amongst the High One’s children. Second only to him. And even then she never yields to him.

"Still as childish as ever," Azrael’s tone and face were deadpan. "I didn’t call you here for tea. There’s something—"

"Childish, eh?" She appeared beside him. "Cute. Yet I was the one you met for guidance on blending in with mortals. Gen Z’s or... Whatever generation goes around these days."

She let out a sigh, walking past him and heading for his desk. "Oh, look at all this. Studying for something?"

Before her polished fingers could even graze a paper, he moved, grabbing her wrist. "That’s not why I summoned you."

But hell be damned before Amunira lets anyone show a fraction of power over her. She withdrew her hand like she’d been touched by filth, eyeing him.

The room thickened with tension. Even the shadows seemed to flee.

Until—

"So grumpy and uptight." She scoffed, dropping her arm. "What then did you summon me for? Some of us have lives too, you know."

He straightened, tapping on his ring. "Straight to the point. A wolf was murdered here last night. In her office."

A brief pause.

Then, "That was anti-climactic for something ’straight to the point’." She murmured.

Gods below... Maybe he should’ve summoned someone else.

"I registered in this cesspool yesterday, Amunira." He turned his back on her. Not because he trusted her, of course. "Don’t you find that ominous? Not to mention I compelled this woman before she was killed—"

"Ou, la, la." She chuckled. "Barely a day in and you’re already showing everyone who’s boss?"

Humorous...

He turned to her again. "The fact she was killed barely bothers me as much as how she was killed." He paused, taking a step forward.

Amunira’s face twitched with a frown.

Not wasting another second, Azrael let it out. "There were two bite marks found on her neck. Precise. Drained of blood." He tilted his head. "Sounds familiar?"

Her eyes widened. Confusion flashed in them. "Oh, crap. The killer is... One of ours?"

He nodded slowly, eyes trailing to the window behind her.

The mysteries the night held.

"A vampire."