Bloodbound to the Witch Heir: Claimed By Four

Azrael’s POV

*****

8:50 pm, Bloodoak Academy.

He appeared on his balcony, shadows retreating as he crept into his suite.

Flashes of what he witnessed before he decided to leave the Crimson Expanse hit his mind in quick succession. Too hard and aggravating to follow all at once.

But despite all the blood, gore, gossips—none of it measured up to a moment that made something snap inside him. Cut, maybe.

Celeste. In Silas Hale’s arms. Their kiss more intimate and intense than anything he’s had with the hybrid princess.

He shouldn’t feel... Jealousy. He shouldn’t feel this ache in his chest, pulling him to go see her. Heightening his impulses to do something absolutely evil to the Beta.

For a moment, he’d almost approached her.

After he saved her on time from a Vein Beast attack. And again when he felt her confusion and panic as she thought he was dead.

Yet with all that weighing on him... He held back.

"I can’t forget my purpose," he mumbled, walking to his desk. He grabbed a bottle of wine, emptying its contents into a tall glass. "She’s where she’s meant to be. A safe distance away from me. And I’m here... Quietly observing as it’s meant to be."

With a heavy breath, he downed the wine in one gulp, closing his eyes as the red liquid trickled down the corner of his lips.

His grip on the glass faltered for a beat. "I know this. I understand my duties better than any of my brethren. My eternal duty to the High one," his lips pursed. "So why then am I so torn? Why does everything I do—every step—feel wrong?"

Nothing but silence answered his spoken-out thoughts.

Suddenly the euphoria from the wine felt fleeting. Useless. His damned vampire metabolism wasn’t helping matters.

"It feels wrong because you don’t understand YOU as much as you think." A silvery voice he didn’t expect to hear again tonight echoed in the darkness behind.

However, he didn’t stiffen, flinch or turn. He already knew.

"Amunira," he dropped his wine glass. "I thought you’d leave. I didn’t say I needed you before I left."

"You mean before you leapt off your balcony like a hero off to save a damsel?" The soft clicks of her stilettos made him sigh softly. "Yeah, you didn’t. But you didn’t specify I should leave either."

No words left his mouth. He didn’t have any.

Perhaps her chattering would amuse him for a bit. Before she gets bored and leaves.

Alas, "the fact you didn’t even notice I was in here all this time tells me your mind is in a far place." She noted, voice getting closer. "Interesting."

"Who says I didn’t just notice and choose to ignore?"

"Oh, you didn’t, Azzy." She finally got beside him, stretching something toward him. "And that’s fine. It helps confirm something I’ve suspected since our master sent you here and you noticed this mate bond."

What she held out was a sparkling bottle of Bloody Mary.

A special variation of the popular cocktail mix—except this one was blended with actual blood. Fresh from the blood bank.

Unless—

"Don’t tell me you took this from a live victim." He raised a brow as she poured into his glass then withdrew the bottle all to herself.

She shrugged with a smirk. "Does that matter now? Or do you want to know what I’ve noticed?"

Blink-squinting through his sunglasses, Azrael merely took a sip of the drink.

The taste of blood on his lips after so long was refreshing. Or at least, reminded him of someone who tasted insurmountably better.

"As the High one’s messenger," Amunira smacked her black-painted lips after gulping directly from the bottle. "I take it upon myself to understand all our brethren. From Ishmael and his obsession with hunting. To Elena and her desire to blend with witches more than the rest of us..."

Pausing, her head tilted slightly. "... And then there’s you. Most powerful. Smartest. Oldest and closest to the High One herself. Yet he keeps to himself and doesn’t follow her orders as much as he claims."

Azrael’s brows furrowed into a deep frown. "What do you speak of? I—"

"Weeks before you came to Bloodoak Academy," Amunira cut him short. "You broke one of the High One’s most important rules—not making contact with her or her family under any circumstances."

He could’ve sworn he felt a headache growing. "She would’ve died that night in the forest if I didn’t step in!"

"And you could’ve easily slaughtered those beasts without revealing yourself." Amunira countered boldly. "But you didn’t. Maybe because... For the first time in twenty years, you felt something you shouldn’t."

A knot tightened in his chest.

What was this feeling? Lately, he’s been having emotions he’s never felt all his life.

All because of HER.

Jealousy. Attachment. Lust. Consuming rage.

—Care.

"I feel some part of the bond bloomed that night." The High One’s messenger went on despite his silence. "It was the first time you shifted away from what was asked of you. And our master? Oh, she took note of that."

His grip on his glass tightened. "Are you getting to a point?"

From this angle he caught her smiling. "My point, oh clueless one... Is that deep down, a part of you cared about her. Before the bond even fully snapped into place..."

Suddenly, her voice began drifting into the darkness, making him whip his neck to her.

Her form was getting swallowed by shadows. "... That’s why it hurts so much. Whatever you choose to do with that hurt is your choice, Azzy. And I’m certain you know how splitting that is..."

And just like that—she was gone.

What remained were her words and the bloody Mary in his hand.

Drawing in a breath, Azrael finished the rest of the drink, sighing with a mix of satisfaction and deep pondering. "Hurt?" He echoed.

Was that what he felt right now?

Did whatever Celeste and Silas shared... Hurt him?

His head angled to the balcony and he slowly stepped onto it, placing his hands on the railing.

Somewhere across the academy, he felt her.

Celeste.

And through the bond—he felt her think of him. Saying his name...