Chill

She was sleeping and while the romantics continuously extolled the joys of watching a loved one sleep—he just didn't get it. She was beautiful, peaceful, and completely serene. But he loved he passion, her complete and utter charge of life. Asleep she was totally different, and while he loved her in everyway, this was not what he loved most. Her eyes dancing with emotion, any emotion, he would never get enough of that, and her eyes were closed when she slept. As he watched, she snuggled closer to him, reaching for him in her sleep, and drolly he realized she was seeking his warmth against the slight chill that had stolen into the room as the night waxed on. She didn't like cold, probably because of her natural fire and the heat of her home planet. Flicking the blanket up over her shoulders to provide her more protection from the chill air, he swore to himself that he would do anything to keep her happy. As he settled back down to sleep, pulling her closer to kiss her forehead and seal the deal, a chill chased down his spine; a chill that had nothing to do with temperature.