““Ren.” Constantine hunched over me. Flashes of light illuminated the air around him. Blood ran down his face and there was a singed quality to the skin around his neck. He was warm. He had my cheeks in his hands and his hands were warm, thumbs rubbing circles into my skin. “Ren.” I felt my left foot twist under the force of another stray spell. He frantically pulled a shield around us and magic seared over the split skin of my midsection. “Where are your shields? Where did you go? Why can't I feel you?” I put my hand over his. “You are warm.” I touched my elbow in the arm that no longer worked. “This was you.” There was a look on his face that I tried to objectively parse through the haze of disconnected reality—shock, anguish, terror, rage. I watched a myriad of expressions pass over his features. The pain of them seemed worse than that of my broken bones. Why would someone seek feelings? His forehead pressed against mine, as if he could no longer bare to see whatever was showing in my eyes.””
