NOVEL Bloodbound to the Witch Heir: Claimed By Four Chapter 54: _Intentions
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Chapter 54: _Intentions

Azrael’s POV

*****

Six days.

It’s been six full days since he made a private decision to give Celeste some space.

Yes, they discussed the ’biting incident’. Yes, he explained enough to make her see him as anything but a monster. But that’s just it. He didn’t reveal the whole truth of why he was the way he was around her.

He... Lied.

Lies have always been helpful. Vampires were experts at it, manipulating truths and creating holes in the victim’s perspective.

But Celeste wasn’t a victim. She was his to protect. Most especially from himself.

All this weighed heavily in his mind as he sat in the audience section of the Crimson Expanse. Across the field, he spotted Celeste moving side by side with her brother.

He noticed the subtle way her eyes swept through the place. Searching. He could also feel the bond humming with her need. A need he desperately wanted to indulge in.

When Silas hugged her on the field—something old and dangerous snapped in him. Something that has led to bloodshed and death ages ago.

Control was critical.

As the Hunters got ready for their trial, Silas sat beside him, a small smile stretching his lips.

"Hey," the Beta waved, unaware of the dark fog clouding Azrael’s mind. "Didn’t know you were here already. I was asking Celeste about you."

Azrael didn’t say a word at first, focusing on the sounds around him instead. He was seconds away from doing something rash. So he sucked in a breath, taking note of every voice, every cheer, every clap.

Anything that would distract him from—

"Uh...?" Silas frowned, blinking with confusion. "Are you going to ignore me? Or—"

"I’m simply wondering why you’ve chosen to sit close to me, Silas," Azrael muttered, keeping his gaze on the shimmering portal gate above the field.

His tone was flat, a clear sign that he didn’t want to be spoken to.

Alas, Silas didn’t get that.

"Well, we share a mate for starters—" He was going to say more when Azrael cut in.

"One would argue you have two other men who share such similarity." He turned, raising a brow over his sunglasses. "Or has your brother finally pushed your last button?"

This was pathetic. He shouldn’t be trading words with this adolescent wolf.

But anytime he looked at him all he could see was a closeness he couldn’t offer Celeste. And he loathed being reminded.

"Bro..." Silas shook his head, voice lowering. "Do we have any issues? We’ve been together trying to figure out the mysteries behind those notes and the disappearance of Miss Benedicta’s body. I thought we’d be—"

"Friends?" Azrael almost laughed. Almost. His face was still stiff as a board. "I’m afraid you’re sorely mistaken."

Silence.

Both men didn’t speak after that. Silas kept staring, brows furrowed with genuine confusion. While Azrael shifted his focus to another direction.

Celeste.

She was several seats away, whispering something to Willow. Behind them sat Lysandra, her obedient trolls and Luther. He noticed how Lysandra stared at Celeste like she had a bone to pick.

However, Celeste didn’t notice, neck spinning slowly. Their eyes locked, making Celeste freeze like a deer caught under headlights. She couldn’t see his eyes—but they burned.

For her.

Stopping himself from going to her was like torture. This bond that kept feeding into his darkest impulses WAS torture. Worse than anything the nine hells could throw at him.

"What are your intentions?" Silas’ voice snapped him from his trance.

He whipped his head to the young man, noticing how calm and almost stoic his face was now. No more exaggerated kindness. Just blunt curiosity.

"Intentions?" Azrael repeated.

"Yes," Silas’ head tilted, hazel eyes sharpening. "With Celeste."

Azrael squinted. "I believe I should be asking you the same thing." freeweɓnovel.cøm

"Well, now I’m asking." Silas’ voice was firm. "Compared to the rest of us she seems more drawn to you. I respect that, really. Navigating this academy is already hard enough without fighting other men for my mate."

As the Beta spoke, Azrael couldn’t help but notice how the so-called "quieter Hale brother" suddenly became more talkative these past few days.

Was Celeste having an effect on him too?

"I’m asking because I care, Azrael," Silas heaved. "About Celeste. And I’d like to believe you do too."

Those words made Azrael pause. The noise around him suddenly dulled out. His heart—that undead, cold thing—quickened its beating. And his thoughts? They were consumed with one person.

Care...

For the first time, he was actually pondering that word. People have been nothing more than tools to him. Especially mortals. So the prospect of him caring about one so deeply without realising it was— fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm

—Haunting.

"I..." His mouth opened and closed repeatedly. "I... Care about her too." Saying it was hard. But true. Truer than anything he’s admitted in centuries. "As for my intentions, it’s safe to say I’m mostly uncertain on that."

Instinctually, his head moved away from Silas.

He was just in time to witness Celeste lashing out at Lysandra. No mind-reading was needed to know who sparked the altercation.

Her rage made the wind pick up speed. He could almost feel her magic all the way here, making his forehead crumple with a frown.

This level of magic growth in such a short time...

"When will Lysandra give it a rest?" Silas commented. "And Luther... I swear, I’ll never understand what my brother sees in her. It’s as if his entire personality shifted since he got with her."

Just then, Luther got on his feet, slipping out of Lysandra’s grip. He walked away with a tense expression, seeming both disgusted and overwhelmed.

Of course, the latter chased after him, giving Celeste and her friend much-needed space.

Yet Azrael’s mind wandered.

At first, he thought Luther was a typical example of an arrogant mutt. Proud. Thinks he can get whatever he wants, whenever he wants, regardless of who it hurts.

But the more attention he paid to the young Alpha, the more he noticed something... Off. And Silas’ words just now only made that suspicion heighten.

Azrael recognised the look on Luther’s face.

Because he’d worn it once.

Right before he lost everything.

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