The Devil's Cursed Witch-Chapter 491: Morpheus’ Troublesome Mate.

Draven reached the witch clan territory with Rhian and Ember. The witch clan had already been alerted the moment they sensed the Divine Dragon's presence in the air.

Every supernatural in the kingdom was on high alert — their instincts triggered the moment Draven had transformed into his dragon form, a clear sign that the most powerful beast had used his powers.

After so long, everyone witnessed a Black Dragon soaring across the sky of Agartha.

The black dragon landed gracefully at the witch clan's healing chamber, where Rhian was immediately taken under Cornelia's guidance.

"I tried to keep that black magic at bay using my darkness," Draven explained, "but his human body can't withstand my power for long."

"Don't worry, Your Majesty," Cornelia assured. "Later, we may need your divine power to heal his soul."

Draven hummed quietly, and Cornelia entered the healing chamber, leaving Ember and Draven standing outside.

Ember remained silent, her eyes fixed on the closed door.

The last words her brother had spoken echoed painfully in her mind: "No one would harm you. If anyone does, I would be the first one to stand in the way and protect you."

He had proven his words — protecting her from harm. Only if he knew that she couldn't even be harmed by such things anymore.

Draven gently wrapped his arm around her, sensing the worry and conflict in her heart.

"He will be alright," Draven said softly.

She nodded faintly, her voice quiet and filled with pain. "I don't want anyone to die to protect me. I've had enough of that. I'm still not over how Morph sacrificed himself… and now my brother…"

"They did the right thing," Draven said, "because they care for you. It's a man's duty to protect the one he cares for."

"I won't forgive myself if something happens to him," Ember whispered.

"Morph came back fine, didn't he? Your brother will be fine too. Trust Cornelia," Draven assured her, his voice steady and calming.

Ember looked up at him, her eyes still clouded with concern. "Where's Morph? I hope he's not hurt."

"There was no one powerful enough to hurt him," Draven said with certainty.

"But I still need to check," Ember insisted. "Didn't he return with us?"

"He's outside," Draven replied, having already sensed Morpheus nearby.

"Why is he outside?" she murmured, worry lingering in her voice. "Let's check on him."

Together, Draven and Ember stepped outside.

Morpheus was standing some distance away, facing the sky, his back to them. His wings were gone, but a heavy aurastill clung to him — something dark, violent, and barely restrained.

"What's that on your back?" Ember called out gently as she approached him.

Morpheus turned to glance at her.

He had stayed away because he knew she was safe with Draven — and because, moments ago, he had slaughtered people mercilessly, killing the human leader in the most inhuman way possible.

The dark aura of blood and death still clung to him, and he didn't want that darkness to touch his innocent mate.

"There's nothing," Morpheus said flatly.

"Turn around," Ember insisted, her tone firm and commanding.

Morpheus sighed but obeyed, turning around.

Ember's eyes widened in worry when she saw the fine cuts covering Morpheus' entire back, some still faintly glowing from the dark magic.

She turned sharply to Draven. "You said no one was powerful enough to hurt him — then how did this happen?"

"When he was shielding you and your brother with his wings, some of the dark magic attacks reached him before I could fully block them," Draven explained calmly. "He was focused on protecting you — that's how he got hurt."

"Then why hasn't it healed yet?" she asked, knowing full well about their self-healing abilities.

"Those wizards used divine blood in their magic," Draven said. "Even for us, that kind of magic can do real damage. It takes longer to heal."

Ember's worry deepened as she turned to Draven again. "That means you must be hurt too. Turn around — let me check."

Draven, now wearing only the golden hide around his waist after shifting from dragon form, turned so she could see.

"I was defending myself, so I wasn't hurt," he assured her. "Morph, on the other hand, was too busy shielding you. That's why he got hurt."

Satisfied that Draven was fine, Ember turned back to Morpheus, her eyes soft but serious.

"Next time, you're not allowed to protect me at the cost of yourself," she said firmly. "If you do, I'll be angry with you."

"I'm fine," Morpheus tried to assure her, but she cut him off.

"Let's go inside and treat your wounds," she insisted.

"They'll heal on their own."

"The black magic is strong — it could hurt you longer if left untreated," Draven added, backing her up. "Listen to her and get treated."

Morpheus shot him a glare, clearly annoyed that Draven always took Ember's side. "You're of no use."

Draven smirked teasingly. "Want me to treat your wounds, then?"

"I can do it myself," Morpheus grumbled as he walked into the healing chamber.

Spotting Silvia, one of the witches, he said, "Bring me something to treat these wounds."

The young witch immediately obeyed, hurrying to fetch what he asked. A few moments later, she returned with a small wooden bowl filled with herbal paste.

"Commander, please have a seat so I can treat you," she said gently.

It was a healer's job to tend to the wounded in the healing chamber — but someone standing nearby didn't like what she saw.

"Give it to me," Ember said sharply, her tone cold. The possessiveness and displeasure in her voice were clear.

Silvia immediately sensed Ember's shift in temperament and quickly handed the bowl over to her, bowing slightly before leaving in a hurry.

Morpheus and Draven couldn't help but smile at Ember's reaction — their mate had scared the poor witch away.

"Sit there," Ember instructed firmly, pointing to a bench along one side of the room as she took her place behind him.

"I need to put on my clothes," Draven said lightly. "I'll be back in a bit."

Ember gave a small nod, allowing him to leave, her focus fully on Morpheus now.

As she dipped her fingers into the herbal paste — infused with powerful herbs to counter the lingering effects of black magic — she gently applied it to his wounds.

"Does it hurt?" she asked softly.

"It doesn't," Morpheus replied, though his voice was quieter than usual.

"Back then, when you were hurt because of me, I didn't even get the chance to care for you," her voice sounded soft, almost regretful. "But after this, if you're ever injured again, you have to tell me — and let me take care of you."

Sensing her emotions, Morpheus replied quietly, "Okay."

"What okay?" she snapped suddenly, her tone shifting to anger. "You should say that you won't ever get hurt again!"

Morpheus sighed inwardly, getting a taste of just how volatile women's emotions could be.

"I'll make sure not to get hurt," he assured her, though he was struggling to keep his instincts in check — instincts that were threatening to shatter his fragile restraint.

"Are you done yet?" he asked, a little impatient now.

"Almost," she replied. "Now turn around."

Morpheus obeyed and turned to face her. His Adam's apple bobbed as he realized how close they were sitting.

"I think we're done," he said in a slightly restrained voice, ready to stand — but Ember grabbed his hand, stopping him.

"Stay right there. You don't leave unless I allow you to," she said firmly.

He sighed. "Ember…"

"There are some wounds along your neck," she said, inspecting both sides carefully. "Once I take care of those, you can go."

He took in a sharp breath, determined not to let it out until she was finished.

She began applying the herbal paste, her fingers gliding delicately over his skin. "These cuts are rather deep," she murmured.

Morpheus could only hum in response, swallowing hard as her soft fingers traced along his neck. Could you be a little faster, Ember? he screamed silently in his mind, trying not to lose control.

Meanwhile, she continued inspecting each wound with careful attention, gently applying the paste as if afraid any pressure might hurt him.

"Done?" he asked, his voice more strained than before.

Her hand moved down toward his chest. "There's one more here."

Before she could touch him, he grabbed her hand, stopping her.

She blinked, confused, and looked up into his intense golden gaze.

"Morph…" she whispered.

He didn't speak. Instead, he tugged her closer, pulling her hand and leaning down until his face was just inches from hers.

She could feel his warm breath, heavy and ragged against her skin, and there was a wild, feral energy about him now — a sharp contrast from the Morpheus she usually saw.

"You do know what your presence… and your touch… do to me," he rasped, his voice low and husky. "Do you still plan on taking that risk?"

Ember's breath hitched. Her heart began to race, her chest rising and falling quickly. Words seemed to escape her entirely.

"Hmm?" he asked again, his gaze fixed on her trembling lips.

"We… we're mates… so…" she stammered, her voice barely a whisper.

"So…" he echoed, his eyes glinting, waiting for her to finish — almost daring her to say more.

She swallowed hard, her breath shallow, her cheeks flushing. She had never felt this way around anyone other than Draven — but now, Morpheus was affecting her just as intensely.

"I… I was just…"

Morpheus' entire focus was on her soft, trembling lips, watching them struggle to form words.

The urge to claim her — to kiss her until she couldn't speak — burned through him, accompanied by wild beastly thoughts of what else he could do to his mate.

Just then, the door of one of the rooms opened, and Cornelia stepped out.

The pair of mates — Morpheus and Ember — quickly snapped back to their senses.

Morpheus stood up and looked at Cornelia. "How's the human?"

Ember, still trying to calm her racing heart, listened as Cornelia replied.

"We've managed to remove the black magic from his body. But since he's human, his wound will take time to heal," she informed promptly.

Ember rose to her feet. "Can I see him now?"

Cornelia hummed in approval.

Without wasting a moment, Ember walked toward the room, Morpheus following closely behind her.

Standing by the bed, Ember gazed at the pale, lifeless-looking young man lying there. Just a while ago, he had been full of life, talking and standing proudly — now, he looked drained, as if all the life force had been sucked out of him.

Morpheus stood near the door, arms crossed, his sharp eyes fixed on Rhian.

"He'll be alright in a few days," Morpheus said flatly. "Then we'll send him back to his people."

It was clear from his tone that he didn't like the human's presence near Ember — even if that human was her brother. Morpheus' opinion of humans wasn't about to change anytime soon.

A moment later, Draven arrived, now fully dressed, having been informed of the situation by Cornelia.

"We'll need to keep him here for at least a day," Cornelia concluded.

Draven hummed in agreement. "Later, I'll take him to the palace until he's fully recovered."

Morpheus, who had been silently watching, stepped closer to Draven, his golden eyes flashing with irritation.

"He is not staying around Ember," Morpheus said sharply.

"That's her brother," Draven replied calmly, "and as her mates, it's our responsibility to look after her family."

"You sound more like a human than a beast," Morpheus snapped coldly. "But I won't let her stay in the palace if that human is there."

Draven smirked slightly, knowing exactly how to push Morpheus' buttons. "Then take her to your nest while I take care of her brother."

Morpheus gritted his teeth, realizing Draven was deliberately provoking him. "You annoying Dragon," he growled under his breath.

In the end, it was decided that Rhian would stay at the palace to recover — and Ember would remain there as well.

Much as Morpheus hated the arrangement, he knew he couldn't keep Ember to be in his nest or she will drive him crazy and he would end up doing something terrible.