Chapter 17
The caves were a bust.
Bastian and De Luca spent an hour searching the dark abandoned recesses in the cliff, every footstep and stumble echoing into the endless gloom.
A couple of tourists sailed through the main passage on boats, but otherwise it was quiet.
And cold. The sun couldn’t penetrate this deeply into the earth.
Luckily, Bastian had his vampire sight, and De Luca had his phone flashlight.
They didn’t speak about the kiss.
As they dug around in the caves, the inspector was back in business mode. Jaw tense, brow serious. Bastian liked watching him work, knowing that every decision De Luca made was in service to finding the killer and clearing Bastian’s name.
He tried not to watch De Luca’s ass as he walked ahead of him, even though the sight filled him with a deep, twitchy kind of need.
He tried not to think about the way De Luca had tasted, and that delicious swelling between them, their cocks pressed together, a promise of more to come.
“Here, darling,” Bastian had said, passing De Luca an oar as they got back into the boat.
“Grazie,” De Luca said, not looking at him.
It hadn’t escaped Bastian’s attention that De Luca had stopped telling him not to call him “darling.” He smiled to himself, savoring the thought.
It felt good to have something positive to cling to, despite the gravity of his situation.
More than that, it was heartening to consider that De Luca might like Bastian for who he was, without worrying about what he was.
Perhaps De Luca could see past the fangs and the blood baggage to see Bastian.
Just Bastian.
When they got back to shore, De Luca gave Bastian a long look that made him think they were going to kiss again or at least hold hands.
But then the inspector blinked and gave Bastian a brief smile before hurrying off to speak with the officer guarding the crime scene.
Disappointed, Bastian was left to ponder their too-brief close encounter.
I haven’t done this sort of thing in a while, De Luca had said.
Perhaps he wasn’t in the right place, emotionally, for kisses with foreigners, even if he did like Bastian.
And on top of everything else, Bastian reminded himself, they were trying to catch a killer. He needed to get his priorities straight, too. So to speak.
He found Whitby eating fish from a saucer outside a restaurant in the piazzetta. She was being fed by a couple of children, who giggled and watched her in awe. They reached out little hands and Whitby let them pet her as she ate.
“What’s going on here, then?” Bastian asked, smirking.
The children looked at him, startled, and fled.
“They just started feeding me,” Whitby said, licking her lips. “I couldn’t say no, Bastian.”
“Of course. It’s hungry work, unlocking all that magical potential.”
“Scoff all you like, but I made this shell move four inches just a moment ago.” Her tail nudged a conical shell that rested on the ground beside her.
“Wonderful, love,” Bastian said. “Well done.”
Nothing to do with the breeze, I’m sure.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” the cat asked.
“Just happy to see you.”
Whitby tutted, her voice food-drowsy. “That’ll be the day. Did you find anything in the caves?”
“Alas, no.”
De Luca came over, looking troubled. His eyes were shaded, and Bastian tried not to imagine pressing kisses into his jaw.
He had to focus, but he kept thinking about the way De Luca had felt.
That heartbeat echoing in Bastian’s own chest. He couldn’t remember the last time it had felt so good to be close to somebody.
Their kiss had unlocked something inside him and, despite it all, Bastian didn’t want to close that door.
He’d had flings in the past, of course. He’d had a thing for bad boys during his early days as a vampire.
There was something thrilling about touching the fire and seeing how much of the burn he could tolerate.
But he hadn’t been with a man since getting clean.
He had forgotten how good it felt: that rough and smooth of coarse stubble against soft skin; the overpowering scent of desire; the way your mind filled with static before suddenly calming, getting lost in sensation, feeling hardness and tension as bodies moved together in a hungry, urgent dance.
He wanted more. He wanted De Luca. Badly now.
“Any news?” he asked De Luca, shaking the thought free.
De Luca palmed the back of his neck, wincing. “We have a problem. My colleague says there’s a witness.”
Bastian gave him a bemused look. “Witness to what?”
“You killing Emilio.”
“What?! But that’s impossible.”
“The witness gave a statement.”
Whitby yowled with outrage. “Who is this person?”
De Luca gave her a furtive glance. “That’s confidential.”
“But they’re lying, darling!” Bastian threw his arms wide. “A liar doesn’t deserve your protection.”
The inspector struggled to meet his gaze. He rubbed his neck again, hissing through his teeth.
“Let me,” Bastian said, going behind De Luca and massaging his shoulders. “You’re so tense. It’s lucky that I’m an excellent masseur.”
De Luca squirmed free, avoiding his eye. “I’m fine.”
Bastian’s hands hung in the air. “I only thought you could use a little relief from all those knots in your neck.”
“I can’t—” De Luca broke off as a couple of teenagers passed by. They eyed the inspector and Bastian, then turned and whispered to each other. De Luca’s ears turned pink.
“You can’t what, dear?” Bastian asked.
“In the boat…the kiss was…”
“Kiss?” Whitby said, her head swiveling between them.
De Luca ignored her, grimacing as he told Bastian, “We have to focus on the case. If we don’t find the killer, the council will destroy you. And Vernazza.”
There was something else, though. Bastian could see it in De Luca’s pinched expression. The constant shifting of his eyes. The hands stuffed in his pockets.
He’s hiding the truth from you.
What was it? What was stopping De Luca from giving in to what he wanted?
“What have I missed?” Whitby asked.
“Nothing,” Bastian and De Luca said in unison. Bastian smiled, waiting for De Luca to smile back, but his mouth remained downturned. The poliziotto rubbed the back of his neck again, then seemed to realize what he was doing and dropped his hand.
“I’m sorry,” he told Bastian, blue gaze shining. “I just can’t.”
Bastian gave him an understanding smile, even though he didn’t understand. Not at all. But it was for the best. The case came first. It had to, if he wanted to see another sunrise.
“It’s your move, love,” he said softly.
De Luca sighed. “The witness is Kerstin Gronberg. She owns an olive grove just north of the town.”
“Olive lady,” Bastian said, a jolt of recognition traveling through him. “Salvador said something about an olive lady.”
“I thought he was a fraud,” Whitby drawled.
Bastian’s mouth twisted. He had thought the same, but he remembered what Salvador had said about Whitby and her blood, and it troubled him how close to the truth the man had been.
“He is a fraud,” he said. “But it’s all we have to go on. Besides, we can’t ignore the fact that somebody filed a witness statement that is patently a lie. We must speak to her. Now.”