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Summary
Louis was at a loss, bewitched by him like he had been when he was a human, more than a hundred years ago. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t resist.
“Lestat” was all he could say, in a low whimper that Lestat drank from his lips.
“My darling boy,” he was almost kissing him, lips on lips, “my dearest son,” his hands on his face, “my companion,” the touch of his eyelashes on his cheeks, like butterflies.
Louis finds Lestat in New Orleans after the truth is revealed to him.
