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Summary
Claudia swallowed around nothing at all, a reflex that followed her around, latched to her heels. “Careful, Lestat,” she said, more shakily than intended. “Else I might think you’ve gone soft on me all of a sudden.”
“I’m always soft on you, mon chou,” Lestat murmured, “but you have inherited my sharp tongue.” This time, when he reached for Claudia’s face—left hand instead of right—she let him make contact. “Alas, you hear me best when I bite back.”