The Devil's Cursed Witch novel Chapter 103

Draven returned to his chamber, but even after going back to his bed, sleeping was out of the question– his mate had thoroughly stirred up his mind and his body, giving him a hard time trying to suppress his urges to do things with her.

He pushed aside the blacket and got out of the bed barefoot. The restless king started to pace back and forth inside his chamber while frowning and sighing in frustration.

‘I need to stay away from her. I need to shift her somewhere else,’ was his main line of thought, but it continued to move on to an unexpected worry. ‘But if she continues to behave carelessly like today, how will I learn her situation in time if she is not nearby? The worry will probably drive me crazy.’

Draven lightly massaged his temples.

‘Fine, I will let her continue staying in the palace, but I must avoid meeting her. I can’t afford to be affected by her like this, or I don’t know what I will do. I might end up hurting her.’

He stopped pacing as he mused. ‘Need to find a way so she won’t ever come across me, as if she doesn’t exist here. Thankfully, her scent can’t reach here or I would have left my own palace.’

Draven felt relieved, but the next moment, his mind had contradictory thoughts.

‘Why would I leave? Instead, I will throw her out to some other place. If the tree spirits of Ronan can’t coexist with her, then how about I put her with the witches? Cornelia will treat her well.’

Just as he felt satisfied with his thought, once again it changed. ‘But I can’t throw her out. Damn it, she is my mate and if I throw her out, the other males…’

He clenched his fists at the thought of them and remembered how angry he was when she smelled Morpheus’ scent on her. With his jaw tightening, he decided, ‘I cannot throw her out. I can’t keep her in places where a male can approach her. Even if it’s coincidental she became close or friendly with a male, the moment I smell any male scent on her, I might end up killing someone after so long.’

‘No one is allowed to touch my mate.’ His eyes turned the deepest shade of red, the kind that showed the darkness inside him, and his breaths became heavy with anger. ‘She is mine.’

The hellishly cold king who hardly said a few lines in a day–and that too hardly included more than a few words–was now muttering to himself nonstop. Yet he didn’t even realize it.

While talking to himself, he had already spoken at least a month’s worth of words.

—–

The next morning Ember woke up with a refreshed feeling from a good night’s sleep, unaware that because of her a certain someone could not sleep the entire night.

“Oh, the Miss is awake!”

“Is she already awake?”

“Good morning, Miss Ember!”

“Did you sleep well, Miss Ember?”