Bloodbound to the Witch Heir: Claimed By Four

Celeste’s POV

*****

Bloodoak Pack, Alpha King mansion. 5:43 Pm

I lay on my bed, eyes on the ceiling. I’ve been like this for several minutes. If not more than an hour now.

All my mind could replay over and over again were three things. One—Willow’s death. Her blood-soaked body still haunted me. The fear in her eyes as she clung to me.

All my life this was the first time I was losing a loved one. I’ve always dreaded the idea growing up, especially whenever I thought about my family. Never would I have imagined that it would be someone else who was just as close.

Next was Professor Amelia revealing her true colours and the chaos that followed. The fact that she’s had Silas under her control all this while was... dear gods.

What if she got him to do something? What if all those moments when he made me feel special and loved... were just Amelia pushing him?

And her words about her life being linked to his. That was the scariest part. We couldn’t kill her even if we found a way. Because then Silas would die as well and the backlash from the bond would simply be too much.

"It’s as if she planned this from the start," I murmured. "Long before the mate bonds even awakened."

Her plans were confusing from the outside but once you tried uncovering the pieces one by one... it not only made sense but was almost flawless.

Speaking of plans—Azrael.

Deep down I felt a sting from the words I used on him. But at the same time... what was I supposed to fucking do? He admitted he was sent by the same evil witch trying to ruin my life. Then in the same breath said he’s been watching me all my life.

If anything my reaction might’ve been tame.

"And then he just casually said he loved me." A bitter smile stretched my lips. "Azrael, you’ve never been the best at communicating feelings. But even this is—"

A sudden vibration on my wrist stopped the rest of the words in my throat.

I blinked, eyes sliding to my hand. Atlas’ bracelet? The thing was pulsing with a soft golden light, each blink filling me with a warmth I couldn’t name.

Something—instinct or the bond—led my gaze to my balcony. The evening sunlight shone down on it like liquid rays. Motes and a couple of butterflies flew around the flower vines on the railing.

My eyes however, narrowed on a figure standing right there. With a knowing smirk on his face.

"... Atlas?" I hopped off the bed before I could stop myself, jogging to the French doors. I opened them, arms stretched to hug him. "Gods, what are you—"

His eyes widened. "Celeste, wait!"

I didn’t register his words on time, my heart dropping to my stomach when I phased right through him. Golden specks of light stuck to my body, slowly fading as I spun around to face him again.

His body glitched before me, then settled into a seemingly corporeal form. He glanced down at himself. "Sorry for the scare. I was testing out a new skill I could use to communicate."

My back pressed against the railing as he broke the distance. Not saying anything. Not attempting to touch me. Just beaming, those golden eyes pinned on me in scrutiny.

While I stared back like a statue.

"How are you feeling, Celeste?" His baritone snapped me out of my reverie. "So... this is your childhood room?"

My mouth pursed, fingers lifting hesitantly. I watched them phase through his face, the spot I touched scattering into thousands of tiny light specks.

"Are you like a hologram or something?"

"Or something." He chuckled. "It’s a form of astral projection I’ve been trying to perfect. But anyway... forget that." He leaned close until his nose nearly brushed mine. "How are you?"

I stopped myself from blushing. "How do you think I’m doing?"

"That’s not an answer, little fire."

"I feel so empty, Atlas." I rubbed my hands down my face before placing one on the railing behind. "It’s just too many things happening."

He stretched his head over the railing, probably checking out the pack. Then he pivoted so we could stand side by side. "That’s how life has been since the bonds awakened."

That was probably meant to be humorous.

I didn’t find it funny.

"Right now I’m so confused," I went on still. "Torn. A–Azrael. He’s.... he’s a vampire..."

Atlas arched a brow when I turned my head to him. He blinked a couple of times before nodding.

"About that..." his gaze lowered for a breath. "... I’ve known about that since Montecito. I mean, I had my suspicions long before but didn’t know how to explain it. So now—"

Something ticked off in my brain before he could finish. "What?"

"I know how it sounds—"

"Do you now?" I snapped. "Back in Montecito we talked about trust. Opening up to each other. And yet all I get are held back secrets while I’m the biggest open book in the group."

He attempted to hold me but halted, remembering he couldn’t. So he stuck to using his words while I simmered.

"It wasn’t my secret to share, Celeste," his voice was reassuring. Patient. "Believe me, I wanted to tell you. Multiple times. But I... I realised he might mean no harm and all I should do is watch."

Silence.

I bit my bottom lip, head angled away from him for a moment.

"Celeste? Spirits, please don’t be angry with me."

"I’m not." I rubbed the bridge of my nose, my eyes coming back to him. "Like I told you, I’m torn and stressed out. Because I came to find out who created vampires. And why Azrael came to the academy in the first place."

When he stared back with confusion, I revealed all Azrael told me. And with each sentence I let out, I saw how his expression shifted, from shock, to anger... and then something else.

Something softer.

"I admit... watching you since your birth is beyond problematic." He heaved heavily. "And then working for Nyx—"

"I know, right?" I butted in. "I can’t trust him anymore. I just can’t. Because—"

"What if he had no choice?" Never did I imagine those words slipping out of Atlas’ mouth. But oh... they did. As our eyes met again, he continued. "His confession means vampires are creations of Nyx. Her so-called ’children of the night’. What if all this time he couldn’t reject her orders?"

"Don’t do that. Don’t make me feel bad for him." My lips trembled. "... We... we always have a choice, Atlas. He—"

"No, Celeste," he shook his head. "Sometimes, other people make those choices for us. We can’t do anything other than obey. Follow. You, of all people, should understand what it feels like to be used by something bigger than you."

He inched closer by a few steps. "I can’t believe I’m saying this... and I don’t in any way intend to downplay your hurt and trauma," his voice lowered. "But what if Azrael is also a victim in all this? One who finally found the will to break free?"

Atlas’ words settled deep in my chest. Twisting. Refusing to leave.

Because no matter how much I wanted to hate Azrael, a part of me—a dangerous, traitorous part of me—wondered if I’d just pushed away the only person who truly understood what it meant... to be owned by something far greater than yourself.