Blake, The Vampire King

"Maria," he called out, repressing the urge to call her cara as he used to, while he brushed his fingertips across an imaginary line on her face.

She let out a noncommittal hmm as she stirred and opened an eye to look at him.

His mate was so beautiful, so cute... he couldn't afford to lose her. He knew he'd go mad with sorrow for sure.

"I have another confession to make," he said softly.

She sleepily smirked at him for some reason. "What is it? Another life or death pressure kind of confession?"

"You may not remember him at the moment, but I killed an old friend of yours today."

"Why would you do that?" She cried out as she flinched away from his touch.

"He's the warlock responsible for this... mess," he grinded on his teeth. "Ultimately, I shouldn't have let you out of my sight with him when I got bad vibes coming from the punk so I'm the one who's really responsible. But he still cast the curse."

"Don't call him a punk!" Did she for some reason remember Kyle? If so, he'd have to bring him back from the dead and kill him anew. Sneaky bastard!

"Don't speak ill of the dead,” she admonished him softly before settling back at his side, and bringing his hand back up to her face. "And you are not responsible for anyone's mistakes but your own. It's not your fault."

His chest constricted at that. She was so loving, so caring, even if she didn't remember the past. Was he even worthy of her?

The boat has been sailing for a while now, he admonished himself. She's been your mate for well over a decade. Don't be silly.

Despite the closeness of their bodies, they were so far away from one another, almost worlds apart... and the thought of losing her further angered him and pained him in equal measures.

"Sleep," she commanded in a drowsy voice, eyes already closed.

"That, I cannot," he told her softly while admiring her. But you can rest, cara. You're safe.

He couldn't bring himself to utter the latter sentence out loud, afraid as he was of her rejection. He almost chuckled at his own cowardliness. How did he go from being the renowned troublemaker to this sorry excuse of a man who couldn't say what roamed his mind? He didn't know.

Oh wait, he did know. He was whipped. He adored his mate. That was why.