Bloodbound to the Witch Heir: Claimed By Four

Atlas’ POV

*****

Chess pieces.

Someone out there was moving chess pieces on a board he couldn’t understand no matter how hard he tried.

Things weren’t adding up. What he once thought impossible... Was now a reality.

An entire family got wiped out after their mother was mysteriously killed. The academy appears to be doing little or nothing about it, keeping information about her demise hidden from the public. Ominous notes written in blood were left behind in the suite of a new transfer student.

With each mysterious turn of events, Atlas grew more suspicious. This person was calculating. Timing things perfectly and leaving just enough clues to make them chase for more without Lady Luck’s grace.

And the worst part? His mate—his woman—seemed to be at the centre of it all. Which brought the inevitable question that none had an answer to.

Why?

What was so special about Celeste Bloodoak? What did this person or these people want with her? And just how severe was the danger circling her like sharks to blood?

While he didn’t have answers, he stuck to doing what he’s done best since his pre-teen years. Stand back. Analyse. And strategise.

And he had the perfect tool to help with that.

.

.

FLASHBACK.

"It’s a summoning trinket." He’d told Celeste that fateful day. "Anytime you’re in danger or if you need me... You rub it three times." Then he folded her fingers over the bracelet, smiling warmly. "That way I can continue fulfilling my task of protecting you."

Giving her that gift in the presence of Azrael and Silas that day while they were outdoors felt... Fulfilling. Luther may have dated her. Silas may have slept with her. And Azrael may have kissed her.

But his gift? It was elegance and beauty wrapped into the best thing he could offer other than his care. Protection.

Unknown to Celeste and the others, however, the bracelet wasn’t merely another fancy trinket—

Throughout the rest of that day, it fulfilled its functions. Not just as a summoning bracelet ready to teleport him to her whenever needed. But also as a beacon.

When Blood Eye released the picture of her and Azrael kissing—he felt her spiralling. Her helplessness. Her rage. Not just through the bond, but more heightened by the bracelet.

Yet the real surprise didn’t come until later that night, after the Dean summoned her to his office.

Atlas sat in front of the desk in his bedroom, squinting at a laptop in front of him. The room was dark, the only light source being moonlight spilling through the windows.

"This just doesn’t make sense..." He mumbled, rubbing a finger over his mouth. "Everything is so scattered and disorganised. People don’t just disappear without a trace. And then the funeral—did they just forget about her body and bury an empty casket?"

Several thoughts went through his mind.

First, the possibility of someone, maybe a powerful witch or twisted spiritual werewolf, using Miss Benedicta’s body for rituals. Perhaps her children were the final piece of—

"By the gods, that doesn’t make sense either," he shook his head, typing a few keys on the keyboard. A map flickered to life on the screen, first displaying Asheville, Pisgah and areas around it before zooming out to a little beyond. "If those kids were kidnapped, they shouldn’t have been taken far."

Unfortunately, he doubted they were needed alive.

Another thought came to mind.

He needs to get a hold of the items Miss Benedicta’s children owned. "I can use them alongside my tracking spells." He nodded, breathing heavily. "Doesn’t lead us far but... It’s better than nothing for now."

Telling himself that felt oddly like coping. It’s been a while since something troubled him this much.

With a sigh, he closed the laptop and stretched his limbs.

However—

A strong tug from the bond made him freeze, fingers tightening.

Celeste.

She felt... Comfortable. Cheerful. A huge contrast when compared to hours ago after the news dropped from Blood Eye.

Emotions don’t just change so suddenly and hard unless something or someone meaningful affected her directly. Knowing Celeste, he had a feeling it was someone.

"Perhaps she sought comfort in one of the others." He smiled wryly. "Well deserved, I suppose."

As seconds blurred into minutes, her comfort grew. And he was forced to feel it at a much deeper level than if he hadn’t given her that bracelet.

It was torture.

He sat with it. His mind flitted through theories on why she felt that way. Why couldn’t he be the one to make her feel that way?

Soon, he desired to go find her.

Using the bracelet, he could have easily tracked her in a matter of seconds.

Yet he refused to let himself lose control.

That was until her emotions shifted into something even his patience couldn’t bear.

Arousal and lust.

So unbidden and open that Atlas... Got affected. A strain from his pants made his face heat up. He clenched his legs together, placing a hand on his mouth.

"Spirits help me—what is she doing?" He grunted, trying hard to ignore his increasing bulge.

This was beyond embarrassing. It was unsightly!

Rarely does he ever get so affected by a woman. Talk less of when she wasn’t even in the same room. Somewhere in the residential section, Celeste was being pleasured in ways he could only imagine.

Resisting the urge to go meet her now was taxing.

"Mmphh..." He got on his feet, mentally cursing his body. "Is this how it’s going to be moving forward? Am I—"

Suddenly, the rush of emotions changed. More sharper and targeted.

Atlas stiffened.

Panic?

What was she panicking about?

He stood still, waiting to see if he’d feel something more from her. Seconds bled slowly, seeming like centuries. He was meant to protect her.

If anything went wrong—

Another sharp shift of emotions hit him, making his heart beat quicker. This one was more primal.

Fear.

This time he didn’t need to wait long for the emotion to twist.

Pain.

His pulse spiked, instincts screaming.

Something was wrong and he’d be damned if he stayed waiting. With a flick of his wrist, a soft golden light enveloped him. Within a couple of seconds, he teleported, appearing outside.

Several meters away from the balcony of the man his mate was with.

Azrael.

The cool night wind on his skin and the distant chattering of students still out by this time barely caught his attention. Not as much as the bone-chilling feeling he got when his gaze settled on Azrael’s balcony.

Celeste’s pain still shot deep through him. His chest tightened, breath hitching as he clenched and unclenched his fists.

Her pain right now wasn’t emotional. It was visceral and enough to make him shake, his neck stinging like nails were being driven through each vein.

"I can’t stand back." His fingers shone with golden light, posture straightening.

She was still alive. And active. So if she was in any danger, she should’ve rubbed her bracelet to alert him at least. Unless... What if she couldn’t?

He was just about to teleport himself to Azrael’s balcony when a head snapped into view, black hair falling back like an ink-tinted waterfall.

Time came to a halt.

Atlas’ throat bobbed as he took down saliva.

It was Azrael.

Or—he thought it was.

Even from this distance, he could tell there was something different about him. Something wrong. Dangerous. Dare he say... Ancient.

Alas, the worst part revealed itself soon enough.

Dripping down the corner of Azrael’s lips was a streak of crimson. Liquid and thick, highlighted by the moonlight above.

Blood—

Terror shook Atlas to his bones.

Did something happen? Did... Did Azrael get possessed by a dark force and do something to Celeste? Why did her mind suddenly feel relaxed, the pain nothing but a background sensation?

At this point, he was ready to teleport. Staying in the dark when it came to his mate was the last thing he’d want.

However, the moment he took a step out of the shadows he hid under, feet rooted to the tarred ground—

—Azrael’s neck snapped to his direction, coal red eyes blazing like hell itself had made portals out of them. Atlas’ heart jumped into his throat, survival instincts driving him to cloak himself.

That wasn’t normal at all. He didn’t need the universe showing him any Divine signs to know that.

In the next second, he shifted into a butterfly, fluttering into the night.

Something warned him that confronting Azrael would end terribly. So he left, mentally preparing himself to check in later if he felt anything off from Celeste again.

.

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PRESENT DAY, Crimson Expanse Audience seats.

"Alright, students!" Professor Amelia’s excited voice snapped him out of his thoughts. His eyes swept past the rows of students before getting to where she stood behind the high table. "The break is over and the witch trials are about to kick off!"

Claps and loud cheers boomed from every corner.

Tightening his jaw, Atlas silently threw a glance at his competing partner who sat beside him. She was stoic, eyes shut and hair flowing around her like she was underwater.

Meditation.

He might need that.

He swerved his head to his far left just then.

There sat Celeste with her friend. Alive. Perfectly fine since that night, despite how much it dwelt with him. Haunted him even.

And some more seats away from her was HIM. A man whom he couldn’t explain, no matter how much he tried.

Azrael Vaelmont.

Since that night, Azrael hasn’t proven a threat to anyone. Especially Celeste.

But... What exactly did Atlas witness that night? Why did it feel like if he tried digging deeper, he’d uncover something catastrophic?

"Whatever it is," he whispered to himself, fists curled tight on his laps. "I’ll protect Celeste if it proves threatening. Even if I’m ending up six feet under..."

He paused, thoughts final. "... And I won’t. Not until I figure out the twisted games being played in this academy. And who the players really are."

As his conviction grew, cheers around him increased.

In no time, he and his partner rose up, heading to the field.

Time for the witch trials.

As he descended the steps, Azrael’s head tilted slightly—just enough for Atlas to know.

He was aware of being watched.