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More to Miss
by Hannurdock
Rating: PG13/SLASH


(Slight Slash - sequel to Missing you, missing you more)
Disclaimers: The characters from the Chronicles belong to Anne Rice.

These stories are purely for pleasure and 'What if's'. 

Nothing is meant to infringe upon the author's rights.

I am doing this for fun and I love sharing my stories with others.




I approached the small shack the night after my brief visit to Louis, intent on watching him from the shadows.

However, when I reached the run-down little house my senses alerted me to the fact Louis was not home. I was crushed! I was missing his nightly feed. When I say I sensed Louis was not at home, it was nothing remotely psychic. It was the fact I could not hear his constant heartbeat, his slight breathing, the small moans of pleasure when he was reading before his slight fire. I could sense the blood from his eternally youthful body, I could sense the heat of his body from his nightly feed.

I sat in my favourite red chair and awaited his return. I spied my book laying upon an arm of his chair and I sighed in pleasure. No shadows for tonight, tonight you shall talk to him Lestat, I thought as I let my Fire-Gift light the slight fire next to his chair.

I waited.

And, I waited.

Hours later, I was nervously fidgeting with the arm of my chair. I was pulling at the fabric overwhelmed with morbid thoughts that maybe Louis had had enough of living the Slave to Darkness in his shack of a house. Maybe Louis was awaiting the sun to rise, intention to burn himself to ashes under the firey onslaught.

I panicked.

I took to the air outside his house and searched the early morning hours for him. He was no-where, nor could I glean any thoughts of Louis from mortals walking around at this late hour of the night.

At last, terrified I was finally alone, I went back to Louis' little shack. As soon as I opened the door I felt the prescence of Louis from within. I raced to the cellar and found him asleep in his coffin, a slight smile on his lips. His heart was beating constantly, the scent of his body from his victim mesmerising. He was heated, his small and elegant fingers reddened from the feed. And feed well he had. I had never seen him so healthy, so happy in sleep. It filled my heart with a tenderness that I thought could stop my breathing in its intensity.

Where he had been and what he had done that evening, I would never know. All I knew is how much I loved him and how much I had panicked when I had not found him. Without Louis, I knew I could not live at all. I needed to know he was surviving, and safe.

I kissed his sleeping mouth and closed the coffin. I lay upon it, relaxing as the death sleep overtook me.  Louis.  Safe.

My thoughts were on the one I most loved as I fell into oblivion, my body stretched over his coffin, protecting, keeping him safe from intrusion.



THE END

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