I love my hero. It may be egotistical to admit it, but there you have it. I love my hero. He is a poor, damaged, somewhat misguided man with a good heart, even if he isn't aware of it. And every time I throw him into a situation where he has a choice of turning away or doing the right thing, he manages to extend a level of unexpected kindness to the heroine that never disappoints. While he thinks he has no heart to speak of and believes love is just some drivel the poets made up to torment weaker souls, he always treats her with a gentleness that is completely out of keeping with his rather reviled reputation. The more I write him, the clearer he becomes to me and the more I realize the nuances of his character. And the more I love the guy and begin to regret the coming end of the book where I will have to leave him behind.
Does anyone else suffer this affliction with their heroes, or am I alone in my madness?