Bloodbound to the Witch Heir: Claimed By Four

Celeste’s POV

*****

7:00pm. Female Dormitory.

"For the last time, Cel... That fit is fire." Willow’s cheerleading voice pulled me out of the fog clouding my mind. I blinked, gaze trailing my reflection on the full-body mirror again.

I wore a form-fitting, velvet red gown, sleeveless and strapped to my shoulders by two strings, which both felt like they would cut in if I sneezed.

The gown was matched with crimson stilettos and a ruby necklace my mother gave me for my eighteenth—I’m not the only one who sees where this is going right?

Yup. Red. Red. Fucking red.

Heading to a memorial as a fucking clot drop has to be a bad omen in some culture somewhere.

But like my dearest Willow kept saying—

"I’m telling you..." Her hand clamped my shoulder from behind, forcing me to turn around.

Unlike my fashion nightmare, she wore something simple. A knee-high black skirt and a leopard fur coat over a sleeveless blouse.

Her blonde hair was tied in a bun, purse dangling in one hand. "... I saw so many posts and videos about this. After a major breakup... Red IS the fit. The glam. The makeover of the decade that’ll make everyone know you’re back in the market."

Gods, if cringe were a person.

"Willow, I—"

"It’s your favourite colour for the moon’s sake!"

"It feels inappropriate."

My fingers trailed my collarbone, brushing gently over the necklace. Then I blinked—

—and instead of darkness I saw him. Domineering, holding my chin and making me stare into those pitch-black shades.

Azrael.

Merely remembering our interaction outside this room made my thighs squeeze. HE’S the fog that’s been clouding my mind.

"We’re going to be late, babe." Willow chimed, snapping her fingers. But then she paused, giving me a look I knew too well. "Cel... I know that face."

My throat tightened, eyes avoiding her gaze. "W–What face? I’m just... Thinking of a new outfit—"

"It’s a freaking memorial," she flung an arm into the air. "Everyone’s going to be busy pretending they give a fuck about the dead woman to judge what you’re wearing. And even if they weren’t... You’re hot!" Her hand grabbed my wrist, a knowing smirk stretching her lips. "So, tell me. The look on your face. You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?"

A quiet breath left my mouth. "I... Willow, I don’t know what you’re talking about." Swerving to the door, I gestured. "Alright, you win. I’ll wear the dress. Can we go now?"

"Will you fill me in on what I walked into earlier today?" Her questions came even when I began dragging her to the door. "Would you say Azrael is your favourite mate? Of course he is!"

When we got to the door, I glanced over my shoulder. At that cheeky grin on her face.

First came silence. Then—

"There’s nothing to fill in, Willow." I rolled my eyes, grabbing the doorknob. "Can we just—pretend you didn’t see anything?"

"But we wanna know, Cel. Come on, I’m your bestie."

"We?"

"Me, myself and I."

She giggled as we walked out, meeting a few other girls in the hallway dressed and ready. I sucked in a breath.

Time to hit the memorial.

.

.

The old blood oak tree stood at the centre of the academy. Tall, with a bark carved from the winds of time, it was now surrounded by tens of students each dressed to impress.

Above us, the moon shone like a gentle reminder—or slap on the face—of my predicament. Fate. Mates. An academy of performative young adults who’d rip you apart at the slightest sign of weakness.

And now there was a killer out there somehow linked to me.

Thank you, moon goddess...

"Looks like it hasn’t started yet," Willow whispered when we got behind the increasing circle of students.

Meanwhile, I busied myself searching for them. My mates. There were so many heads to look through from this angle but they would all definitely show up.

Atlas would probably be the earliest. He gave that "top student obsessed with keeping up with the time" vibe. If that made any sense. Almost reminds me of my—

"Celeste?" A voice I’m pretty sure I hadn’t heard all day called behind me. I froze, shoulders stiffening.

No... It wasn’t one of them.

It was—

"Oh, Caelum." Willow was the first to turn, her face beaming with one of the brightest smiles I’ve ever seen her muster. She waved while I stood still, fists clenching.

I’ve been avoiding this exact thing since last night. A conversation with my dear twin brother.

Willow tapped my shoulder, finally making me spin around in time to see him. He moved confidently, right hand brushing back his blonde hair—which shimmered under the moonlight.

Black jacket over a simple white t-shirt and blue jeans. And a pair of white sneakers.

Suddenly I felt overdressed.

"You look so..." Willow rushed her words when my brother and his expensive cologne got to us, cheeks reddening. I swear, the bonehead didn’t seem like he’d noticed her crush all this time. Or maybe he has. "... I mean. You look—"

"Hey, Willow." The corner of my brother’s lips curved, silver eyes landing on her. "Could you give my sister and me a second to talk?"

"Can I bargain on a millisecond?" I didn’t try hiding my exhaustion. So much for avoiding him in classes. "What is it brother? I—"

"You’re really asking me after everything last night?" Caelum’s reprimand was quick. Twins or not, he was still the oldest. Five minutes was a long time. "I looked everywhere for you, Cel. Then I heard about Miss Benedicta’s murder and got worried sick."

Before I could even let a word out he hit me with a firm: "Where were you last night? Where’d you run off to?"

My fists tightened beside me.

Fortunately, people were too busy with their own gossip to notice us. Or they at least tried to pretend like they weren’t eavesdropping this time.

"Nowhere, Caelum." I breathed out heavily, face twisting with something far from a smile. "And it’s called ’running off’ for a reason."

His eyes twitched. "Why?" The question was a whisper. "Mom and Dad had to leave to attend to some interpack disputes in Arizona. Our parents, Cel. You didn’t even try to speak to them—"

"And they didn’t try to listen," I snapped, already noticing the head turns and whispers. Taking a step, I pointed. "None of you ever fucking listen to me, Caelum. Even... even last night. I cried. I basically got bullied in their presence and they told me to APOLOGISE." 𝚏𝕣𝐞𝗲𝐰𝕖𝐛𝐧𝕠𝕧𝚎𝚕.𝐜𝚘𝗺

Willow’s previous bashfulness had taken a few notches down. Her hand rubbed my shoulder gently, trying to calm me.

But I couldn’t be calm.

Tears were always so fast to fall but this time I ground my teeth hard enough to hold them back. "I’ve been under your shadow all this time, Caelum." My voice still broke.

Rubbing his forehead, he looked heavenward. "Here you go again with this narrative. Sis, I’m—"

"But it’s the truth." I countered. "Deny it now. While I sat with the audience, you sat at the high table with them last night."

Disbelief wrinkled his features, lips parting and closing repeatedly. Like he thought I’d never bring that up. "I..." He stuttered. "I’m the academy’s star student, sis. It was the school spoiling me. Not mom and Dad."

Of course.

I scoffed, turning my head to the right.

However, my breath hitched when I saw him. Several yards away, standing under the flickering light of a lamppost close to the school’s gym building.

Azrael.

Even from this distance, his tall form was imposing. He wore a black coat, hands in his pockets and sunglasses on as usual. But I knew he had those eyes on me. And now he could see me staring.

"Cel?" Caelum tapped my arm once. "Cel, please. If it’s about Luther, forget him. There are a lot of hot, well-meaning men in this academy—heck, the whole country, who’d love to treat you like a queen."

Gods, if only he knew.

"I..." Tearing my eyes from Azrael, I spotted Silas walking toward the crowd.

Alone.

His face carried that same calculated calm, his hazel eyes scanning each student as if he were analysing victims. He wore a sharp black suit—typical Silas Hale.

Merely a couple of seconds after I spotted him, he turned his head. Those calm eyes locked on me, like an ocean pondering if it should drown me or not.

Sweat already slicked my palms, my chest burning with something electric. And not in the lovey-dovey way.

Nope. I felt like I was being eye fucked.

Shaking my head, I quickly swerved my head to Caelum’s waiting gaze. From the corner of my eye, I tried searching for Azrael again.

Vanished.

Like he hadn’t been there at all.

"Brother," I swallowed. "Thank you for checking in and all. But I—"

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your presence tonight." Professor Amelia’s voice cracked through the air like a whip.

She stood on a small makeshift stage, not even two meters high, hands clasped in front of her chest. Her expression was solemn under the oversized black hat she wore.

"Please, gather around," she gestured. "As we—the staff and students of Bloodoak Academy... Mourn one of our own."

I could sense it. All four of them were here already, somewhere in the crowd. Lying low, perhaps.

And for some reason, I felt observed. Like they were watching me. The mere thought made my legs shake.

Another long night it is...