Blake, The Vampire King

Blake felt on cloud nine, and yet a bit worried at the same time. Sure, his mate was back by his side, but his father was still dying. He still had to take over the throne. And most importantly, he was still about to start a war. And like all wars, that meant more blood... on his hands.

But he didn't regret acting rashly. He truly didn't. If he ever were to ignore such a blatant provocation and forgive an attack in his own territory on his own mate, no less, his reputation would suffer.

He couldn't let that happen. Not because his pride prevented him from letting that happen. But because it meant he would make look himself vulnerable in the face of his enemies who were only waiting for the smallest openings. First, Maria. Who was next? Anastasia? Hell, no!

He would rather die a thousand times than allow anyone to harm his daughter or his mate. What kind of man, husband and father would that make of him?

He wasn't above killing to protect his family. Much like a beast to protect its cubs. He would not sit by and watch as everything he had ever hoped for, for centuries, got destroyed in front of him.

"I can feel anxiety rolling off you in waves," his mate commented as she entered the office he had been in for the past hour or so.

"I'm thinking," he said simply as he smiled her way.

"About?" She inquired.

"About what I ought to do," he shrugged with a nonchalance he did not feel.

"Whatever you do, I'll be right there by your side, where I belong," she told him hotly.

"And I appreciate that, cara," he retorted immediately.

"You should," she replied cheekily.

"We must go to war soon," he said. It seemed like it was all he could do - talk. He could not actually carry on with the plan and do the deed.

He'd have to go against every urge in his body that told him to leave it, and make the witches regret they were ever born. But for that, he had to wait for them to strike. The ball was in their camp now.

For yes, he could only wait. Because he had already killed two warlocks. Now, he had to wait for them to come for him. And that was when it shall begin.

The sad thing about it all was that he didn't even want to go to war with the witches. Hadn't he been born from the union of a witch and a vampire after all? He couldn't forget his origins so quickly, nor disregard them so easily. His phone vibrated in his jean pocket and he was quick to retrieve it. Anything to stop his constantly disturbing thoughts.

"Hello,” he greeted as soon as he took the call.

"Hey Blake, how are you?" Came the soft voice that belonged to no other than jasmine.

"Maria remembers," he said, going straight for the goal. "Ergo I won't come after each and every one of your kind. But I will not back down from a fight should push come to shove."

“That's such a good news!" She exclaimed when she heard about Maria remembering before adding in relieved tone, “I understand."

"Good. good."

"I wanted you to know that not all of us are set to have your head. Some of us have your back, Blake," she informed him in one go.

"What do you mean?" He asked, his interest piqued.

"Well there's the resistance, those who are against you, numbers unknown. And then, there's us, the alliance, who support you and understand your reason to kill that Carrywell. We are no less than fifty influential witch over the country. We should be able to convince some more -many more before long."

"What do you mean, Jasmine?"

"That wherever you are, you should stay there, until we convince the vast majority," she said hesitantly. "We don't want you to kill more than you truly have to."

He laughed. He couldn't help it. He laughed.

"I'm serious here."

"I know you are."

"It's just that I find it so funny that you should want me to stay hidden. I am Blake The Troublemaker, little girl. I've never shied away from a challenge nor backed down from a fight..."

Maria took the phone from him in an abrupt manner. "Hey!" He narrowed his eyes at his mate's unusual behavior.

"Don't worry, Jas. I'll have him so busy here, he won't even think of killing anyone!" Came his mate's reassurance.

"Okay, that's so good to hear. I love you Maria. You make him a better man, that's for sure. It's amazing the effect you have on him."

He could hear the woman ramble on, and on about the effect her mate had on him.

"Don't worry, kiddo," he yelled, "you turned cheeky bratty little Jonathan into a man... my mate surely can do even better."

He heard her laugh at his comment, and smirked.

When Maria ended the call, he turned serious eyes towards her. "You know fairly well there's nothing to be done. We must go to war."

"I know you must. I understand your reasons. And I'll go to hell and back for you, to be with you. I don't mind becoming a killer. But as long as we can lessen the number, let's just do that babe. Surely you can understand my point of view even better than I do."

"You are so loving, I have no idea how I managed to land such a beautiful mate," he said simply.

"Is that all there is to me? Some good looks?" She teased.

"Of course not." He smirked, mentally adding, you're so much more than just a pretty face. You're my mate, the reason why I'm alive. The reason I breathe.

"I love you so much,” she admitted sotto voce.

"I know," he said smugly as was the tradition.

"Now, about making me so busy I wouldn't even think of killing anyone... Don't you intend to make good on that promise?" He asked, his left eyebrow rising in question.

"Of course, I do," she smirked.

And that's when she straddled his lap, and started grinding against the hard-on he already sported.

Despite the years, he was still like a hormonal teenager when it came to her. He couldn't help it. It was the natural response he had to his mate's scent. To her hot scorching gaze as it settled on him every time.

There was no denying the attraction, the chemistry, that still flowed between them. One would have to be blind to think they didn't have something special, otherworldly.

She was fiery, and yet gentle. Fierce and yet loving.

And she was his. Completely and irrevocably his.

He told her so. "You're mine," came his husky whisper.

"I am, aren't I?" She breathed out. "I love you," she told him anew.

He would never get tired of hearing these words. They shall never grow old to him.

"How lucky am I to have you for a mate?" He mused out loud.

Her eyes twinkled with happiness at his words.

She knew he loved her. He made it abundantly clear even if he didn't say the words she so desired, she knew.

And it brought him so much joy to see the happiness in the depths of her beautiful chocolate brown eyes.

He didn't know how to act in front of her most of the times. He didn't know what to say. He had never cared for a woman so much.

He was afraid to lose her. And he vowed to never face what he had had to endure for the last few days.

It shall not happen again, he silently promised her.

"Come here," he told her as he cupped her face with his hands.

He first pecked her lips softly, gently, almost too gently for she whimpered and nibbled on his bottom lip. He then deepened the kiss and their tongues started to wrestle in a dance of dominance where none of them was willing to abdicate. He loved how feisty she was with him.

Although she was such a compassionate soul, she never failed to amaze him when they made love. The passion that flowed from her to him was that astounding. And he relished in it every single time.

He loved this woman! Heavens help him, he loved her greatly, immensely, undeniably... he was smitten and he wasn't ashamed to say he was. He had it bad. Everybody knew it. And he knew she had the same symptoms as well.