Bloodbound to the Witch Heir: Claimed By Four

Azrael’s POV

*****

Bloodoak Academy residential wing, 3:50pm

Last night, after the memorial and before Amunira left... She’d given him a friendly warning.

He’d noticed his dwindling restraint. His hunger. The way Celeste’s scent ruled every other sense he had made it hard to concentrate. Hard to think about anything else.

And it unnerved him.

So when he confided in the High One’s messenger—she brought up a very interesting theory:

"You’re no wolf, Azzy," Amunira pointed out. "However, as confusing as the mate bond is... It might affect you like a male wolf. Perhaps more." Pausing for a second, she asked. "You know what happens when a vampire gets too infatuated or emotionally entangled with a mortal?"

She didn’t need to remind him.

"They’re unable to control their hunger." He mumbled back to which Amunira snapped her fingers.

"Exactly. Now with a mate bond, you aren’t having those feelings entirely by your own will," her tone became a little more serious. "The bond forces them. Makes you feel her in ways mundane emotions could never push you to."

Flashes of each time he almost lost control slipped into his mind. That brief moment in the Dormitory hallways. Then right at the memorial, surrounded by all those people.

"I don’t want to lose control," Azrael told himself. "How do I—"

"It’s inevitable even if you try avoiding it," Amunira mumbled. "Even amongst lupines, many who’ve tried rejecting or ignoring the bond fall into nothing but troubles. How much more you...?"

.

.

That final question hung heavy in Azrael’s head as he walked toward the male dormitory building.

He subconsciously brushed his thumb over his lips, remembering what happened minutes ago.

Celeste kissed him. Out in the open. No shame, no hesitation. Just pure, unfiltered want that he reciprocated with more hunger.

At that moment, his fangs had almost revealed themselves. He’d almost lost control, instincts leading him to do something everyone would’ve regretted.

Him especially.

So he withdrew and left her with a vague explanation.

This wasn’t lust. Lust burned out. This stayed.

Azrael clenched his jaw, forcing his hands into fists as he reached just outside the buildings in the residential wing.

He could still feel her.

Not the bond—her.

The way her emotions had surged when he pulled away. Confusion. Rejection. Hurt she didn’t yet know how to name.

He exhaled slowly.

"It’s for her own good." He whispered to himself, images hitting his mind in quick succession.

Images that would make Celeste move far away from him if she could read his mind.

Fangs sprouting out, sinking into flesh. Warm blood dripping down her neck as she squirmed and struggled under his hold. The sweet, metallic taste of her blood and the nerve-wracking euphoria it would bring him.

All of it.

The other mates wanted to ’claim’ her? His instincts made him want to own her—mind, body and soul. He wanted to eliminate every ’competition’.

And that was a ditch he couldn’t risk letting himself fall too deep into.

On getting to the front of his suite, ignoring the murmurs, prolonged stares and lustful remarks he got on the way, Azrael brought out his key card.

He was about to swipe on the lock but then froze. He picked up a smell, like rotten meat, death and something else. Something that made his skin crawl and fingers tremble.

Blood.

Oozing out of his suite even with the door sealed.

Withdrawing his hand for a second, he whipped his head to the left and right sides of the hallway. The male students present were either loitering around with no care, laughing, texting their girlfriends amongst other things.

None of them was a wolf. Just witches and human hunters. That should explain why no one had tried breaking down his door to investigate the smell.

Bringing his gaze back to the door, he swiped the card. Upon stepping in, he instantly closed the door behind him, nostrils twitching when the smell hit him.

It was much stronger inside, so thick it would’ve made weak ones vomit or run out without a second thought.

Not Azrael though.

Turning on the lights, he scanned through the living room before him first. There were no signs of forceful entry. But on the marble tiles, there was a trail of blood leading into the bedrooms.

"Old," he muttered to himself, squatting to inspect the blood. "Whoever this is has been dead for over twenty-four hours."

His brows furrowed, an odd feeling of deja vu swirling inside his head. Even the smell of the blood was familiar.

Could it... Could it be?

Clenching his jaw, he rose to his feet. He followed the trail of blood, already painting a mental image of what happened here.

The culprit, possibly a witch or worse, got into his room with a body, dragged it through his living room and then dumped it somewhere deeper in the suite.

This probably happened hours ago while he was in classes.

Walking past the bedrooms, his eyes locked on the bathroom door. The spot where the blood trail ended.

Just when he took another step, a thought hit him. ’What if it’s a trap?’

For a second, he felt like calling the school’s authorities here. They should be able to handle a mess like this. But that obviously had a lot of setbacks.

Sighing lightly, he continued, moving onward until he got in front of the bathroom door. His right hand was alight with sparks of flame, ready just in case.

However, when he pushed the door in, he didn’t meet any traps or threats.

Rather, sprawled on the bathroom tiles like a bloody sacrifice—was a body. Cold. Eyes shut. Maggots and flies were already feasting on the outer orifices.

And the most eerie part? Azrael recognised the corpse. And the bite marks on her neck.

"Miss Benedicta..." His breath shuddered, face twisting with a deep frown.

Last he heard, the woman’s body had been given to her family. For a funeral.

So what in Hades gates was she—

Something caught his attention just then. Stuck to her shirt was a letter. With one word, so simple yet so threatening.

"Confess."