Damon squeezed her hand, his thumb brushing over her skin in slow, reassuring strokes. "Sweetheart," he murmured, his voice softer now, "do you want to see a doctor? Just to be sure?"
Charlotte swallowed, her throat suddenly dry.
"It's just a check-up," Damon continued. "And no matter what the results say, there's nothing we have to worry about."
Charlotte hesitated, staring down at their joined hands. The warmth of his touch should have been comforting, yet her heart pounded with unease.
"Damon …" she started, murmuring "What if the results confirm that I really can't have children?"
Damon tilted his head, as if the question itself was absurd. "Then we move on with our lives, just like we always planned to."
"But—"
"No buts," he interrupted gently. "You're my mate and forever will be my mate. Whatever happened to you is my responsibility." He said firmly, "I chose you, Charlotte. I marked you as my mate. That's the only fact that you have to care about."
