He shielded her from the breeze, his shoulders taut. He wanted to meet that coldness with warmth, that loss with comfort, destruction with creation. Nothing would harm her like that again, not while he drew breath. Against a field of lavender, she gazed up at him, her face tear streaked, and he brushed the wetness from her cheek with a thumb, and leaned in. She raised her chin, and his lips met hers, so soft, her skin the smell of salt and summer flowers as she relaxed in his arms. Her palms glided up his back, her fingers pressing, no prick of claws, just her touch, her wanting. She leaned
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