As she kissed him of her own volition, Claude trembled against her. He needed her for his own, his heart yearning for nothing more than to spend all his waking days with the daughter of his hated enemies. The near-epic scale of the feud between their houses now seemed nothing more than a petty squabble. On that Midsummer Night amongst the masks of the fae, they had found love together; a precious, fragile thing that was not to be wasted.<br/><br/>Though as with any young lovers, love and lust combined within his mind, and his kisses began to burn with more heat and passion, now that they feared not being captured or watched. His tongue once again sought out it's mate within her mouth, his hand sliding lower down over her back, and seemed not intent on stopping before sliding down for a far more adventurous touch over her rear.