Her touch was light but sent a calming ripple through him, and he nuzzled his cold cheek to hers in gratitude. In their earliest days together, Claudia had often boldly played with handfuls of his hair as she rode in his arms, or when they reclined together on a divan at home, discussing the evening plans. On this night Lestat needed her reassuring touch more than ever. Their argument just a few hours prior had been scathing, the two at odds over her decision to end her flute lessons.
Louis had not had been home to voice his opinion, but Lestat knew well enough what it would have been. Lestat had surrendered. He could no longer ignore the glint of her hungry eyes when he and Louis deposited her at these lessons, the manner in which they waved goodbye to her, inching closer together before the door closed, she knew these lessons were in fact a carefully plotted arranged absence. So that they could be alone together. So that they could have one another in a way that she could not.
“Mon ange,” he began, unable to say what needed to be said, “it’s our similarities that cause these fights, but also…” and he placed a kiss delicately on her lips, “what bring us together again.” He looked away, navigating the dark streets. They were almost at their destination.
I-want-my-IWTV 