Bloodbound to the Witch Heir: Claimed By Four

Azrael’s POV

*****

8:00 pm, Male dormitory building

He stood on his balcony, a glass of wine in his right hand and his left placed on the railing.

His fingers tapped the cool metallic surface in slow, rhythmic beats as his mind skimmed through all that happened today.

Lysandra and her little puppets had exhausted the last of his already waning patience. He’d warned them at the Moonwood Pavilion restaurant—yet something told him they won’t listen.

Sometimes flies needed more than a few hand swats to get rid of.

Taking a sip from the wine, his eyes wandered to the academy below. He thought he caught Celeste’s scent in the air some minutes back.

Was she back from her meeting with the Dean?

"Thorne," he smacked his lips, lowering the glass. "What are you hiding from the rest of us? And what does Celeste have to do with it?"

At this point, he could confidently say he didn’t trust that man. There were just too many things happening and pointing to foul play.

The fact that someone was able to sneak into the academy, leave a dead body in his suite and then whisk it out like harvested wheat was suspicious. Unless the culprit was an insider.

Maybe someone with enough knowledge about the academy wards, the students and—

A knock on his living room door made him freeze. Instincts flared to life, the air getting warmer as if Mother Nature itself approved the presence of the person at the other end.

He knew who it was. He could feel it.

So when the knock came again, Azrael waved a hand, telekinetically opening the door. "Come in." He muttered, taking more wine.

Slow footsteps echoed into the living room behind him. As the door creaked shut, a scent wafted through the air like a divine offering.

Spring.

"What if I were the killer?" Celeste questioned with a giddy tone, boots clicking as she walked toward the balcony. "Or... You’re not scared of that?"

Azrael let a smirk stretch his features. "I knew it was you before you even knocked, little miss."

She laughed softly, finally getting beside him. He glanced at her, watching her push back strands of her lush black hair, the silver streaks catching moonlight like dew drops.

Then she sighed, whipping her neck to him. "I never got why you called me that."

He raised a brow. "Call you what?"

"Little miss." She did a horrible imitation of his voice, amusing herself. "I mean, at most, you should be like two or three years older. Right?"

He kept silent, twirling his drink as his arms rested on the railing.

One second he was here. Alone. The next second she showed up, making small talk as if everything that happened today never happened.

Usually, he’d just let her do that and go with the flow. But this... This wasn’t the flow he wanted. It wasn’t the flow he craved.

"I’m..." He paused, turning just enough to see her face. And those violet eyes. "... I’m old enough, little miss. As for why I call you that, I guess it’s become a habit."

She smiled about to push more on it. Until—

"Before Atlas interrupted," he straightened his spine, spinning fully to face her. "We had a... Talk. You and I." He lowered his chin. "Do you remember?"

Celeste blinked, lips parted like she didn’t expect that. Or maybe she did and wanted to buy herself enough time and courage to ask.

"I..." She finally found her words, although she stuttered. "Of course, I do. And if I remember correctly..." Suddenly, she stepped closer, fingers moving toward his glasses.

This time he didn’t stiffen or flinch. He stayed perfectly calm as she took them off, leaving his eyes out in the open. To her.

Only her.

Some would’ve stared with a mix of horror, confusion and astonishment—if they were strong-willed enough. Many, especially humans and lesser supernaturals, would either fall under his will or linger on the border between sanity and insanity.

He’s seen it happen hundreds of times.

Yet here stood this... Girl.

Caressing his face and gazing into his eyes like she saw the most beautiful things ever.

"... You let me take off your glasses last time." She continued, a warm smile lighting up her face. "Is... Is this okay?"

Words weren’t enough to define how insurmountably splendid this was. So he didn’t speak.

He broke the distance between them, right hand grabbing her waist tenderly. He pulled her against his warmth, the bond thrumming with desires he could no longer ignore.

The world turned to static around them. Even the moon’s radiance seemed dull compared to the ethereal beauty in his grasp. And he’d be damned before he let go again.

Soon, heat, lust and need faded as their lips met in a kiss. Except this one wasn’t the gentle, restrained kiss that got the internet buzzing today.

This was heated. Hungry. Steamy in all the right and worst ways possible.

Control dissipated into the wind.

When his free hand grabbed the back of her head, curling into her hair, he knew there was no return.

"Mmph..." She moaned into his mouth, arms wrapping around his neck. Her breasts pressed against his chest, shedding away the last of the scales holding him back.

Breaking the kiss, he moved, pulling her away from the railing. She gasped while he lowered her body until her spine stretched horizontally.

It continued with soft, reverent kisses on her neck. Each one broke a sound from her mouth, her hands gripping him as if life depended on it.

Each shake, squirm and shaky moan ticked on his brain like a bomb about to take everything.

And he did.

Without warning, his fangs sprouted out, replacing his upper canines. A rational part of him fought his impulses, keeping him from biting.

Only for a few seconds.

"Argh!" Celeste’s body spasmed when his fangs sank into her flesh, puncturing veins.

Wetness seeped down her neck, the metallic taste of blood filling his mouth like a drug. Ecstasy and pleasure like he hasn’t felt in centuries consumed, making him sink deeper.

No... No... No...

NO!

"No..." His eyes jolted open, heart hammering when he saw Celeste.

Splayed in his arms, eyes closed and blood dripping down two bite marks on her neck. He fell on his knees, placing a hand over his mouth and fangs.

It... It happened.

He lost control.

"C–Celeste?" He called her softly, pressing her head against his chest.

No response.

The mate bond tightened like a weight in his chest as he raised his head, staring at the night sky.