Chapter 21
Somehow, they lost the crowd.
De Luca must know the streets like the back of his hand, because it wasn’t long before the cries of the mob fell into the distance.
Only when they reached a quiet street did they stop.
De Luca bent over with his hands on his knees, breathing heavily. Bastian put a palm to the wall for support, feeling exhausted. Whitby prowled a few feet away, her tail flicking and twitching as she kept watch over the way they had come.
“Why didn’t you fight them?” De Luca asked. “They were going to stake you.”
Bastian blinked. The sun kept getting in his eyes and the air was shimmering in pearlescent waves again.
“I told you this would happen,” Whitby said. “He’s insufferable when he’s been in the sun too long. We have to get him inside, in the dark.”
“I’m better now,” Bastian said. “Look.”
He spread his arms and turned in a circle. The world turned faster than he had anticipated. He kept turning on the spot, trying to move at the same speed as the world, to catch up with it, but the more he turned, the more the world spun, streaking rainbow colors across his vision.
“Oh—” he said, suddenly feeling arms around him. They supported him as he half lay in the air. A hand cradled the back of his neck, warmth spreading into his shoulders. Bastian found himself staring into sparkling blue eyes.
De Luca was so close, their noses almost touched, and Bastian felt a giddy thrill at the proximity.
“Got a little dizzy there,” he said. “I think I tripped.”
“You tripped,” De Luca confirmed, “because you were twirling.”
Bastian smiled. “I like twirling.”
“I noticed. Here, let me help you up.”
De Luca got Bastian upright but didn’t let him go, probably because Bastian rocked on his heels, threatening to fall again. De Luca’s strong arms remained around him.
“My manly man-hero,” Bastian cooed, and he swore he saw the halo now. The perfect halo shining gold above De Luca’s head.
“Can you walk?” De Luca asked.
“You’re an angel,” Bastian whispered. “A sweet, gorgeous angel sent to look after me.”
“Bastian.”
“Yes, keep saying my name,” Bastian sighed. “Don’t ever stop.”
“Bastian,” De Luca said, “we have to go back to the apartment.”
“No, not indoors. I’m not sick. I feel amazing.”
He felt light as air. Light as Champagne bubbles fizzing on De Luca’s tongue. How could he be sick when he felt so good? It took him a second to realize they were moving.
“Please tell me we’re going to a dance floor.”
“Sure,” De Luca said, “we’ll do the rumba and then you’ll take a run-up, and we’ll do The Lift like we’re Patrick Swayze and Jennifer Grey.”
Bastian smiled, the street swimming in and out of focus around him.
Dirty dancing with De Luca would be heaven.
After The Lift, they’d hold each other close, and Whitby would DJ, spinning his favorite records with her paws.
While Kylie played, Bastian would revel in De Luca’s laugh, and they’d dance and dance until they—
—were in the apartment.
They were back in the apartment.
Bastian saw that they were in the hall of his time-share. How did they get there? De Luca must have fished Bastian’s keys from his pocket. Funny, you’d think Bastian would have noticed that.
“This isn’t a dance floor, darling,” he said, gesturing at the kitchen. “We must have taken a wrong turn.”
His legs still didn’t want to hold his full weight.
“I’m just going to help you rest for a minute,” De Luca said, still supporting him. Bastian allowed himself to be led to the bedroom. The air was cooler, the sunlight muted, less intense now that they were inside. And why was De Luca taking Bastian into his bedroom?
“Signor,” Bastian murmured, “I believe you are taking advantage of me.”
His face smooshed against the pillow, and he felt his legs lifted onto the mattress, then the sheet being pulled up over him. There came a rattle from the other side of the room and darkness blanketed them. The blinds had been drawn.
“You need to rest,” De Luca said, voice soft. Soothing.
Bastian rolled onto his back, blinking up at the inspector. De Luca sat beside him on the bed. He looked so handsome in his uniform. De Luca had no right to be that handsome and kind at the same time.
Bastian suddenly felt overwhelmed by the fact that this man had come into his life. How dare he exist with that jaw. His love of Bronski Beat. Those cute, oversized ears.
“You have the most adorable ears,” Bastian said.
“They’ve been a source of great amusement to people my entire life.”
Bastian frowned.
“Has this town treated you very badly?” he asked.
“No.”
“It’s not easy trying to live up to a memory. People shouldn’t expect you to be your father.”
“They don’t. In their eyes, I have already failed a thousand times.”
Bastian took his hand.
“They must not know you at all.”
“I suppose they don’t.”
Bastian wanted to pull De Luca to him, but then De Luca reached down and brushed the hair out of Bastian’s face. Affectionate rather than suggestive.
“Just lie here for a while,” De Luca said. “I think you need it.”
“No, I—” Bastian tried to sit up, but now that dark had descended, he suddenly felt like a Champagne bubble after it had popped.
“Yes,” he said, easing back down, “maybe I’ll just lie down for a moment.”
He found De Luca’s hand. “Stay with me? Tell me more things about your deep, sexual fascination with vampires.”
“Well, I don’t know much about that.”
Bastian smiled. “Oh, so it’s just with me, then?”
De Luca laughed, flustered, and just shook his head in amusement.
“Fine, then. How about a song? Janet Jackson? Sing me a lullaby, darling.”
“Another time, tesoro mio.”
“That’s nice. What does it mean?”
“It means you should sleep.”
A yowl sounded somewhere, and Bastian saw that the bedroom door was shut. Whitby was trapped in the hall.
“You should probably let her in,” he said. “She can make quite a racket for a creature so small.”
“Sì.”
Warmth bloomed on the back of Bastian’s hand, and he realized De Luca had kissed him there. Before he could react, De Luca crossed the room and opened the door, and a black shape bounded onto the bed beside him.
“De Luca, it’s best you go,” Whitby said. “You’re getting him all excited and he needs rest.”
“Sì, signorina.”
Bastian was already floating off on a cloud. The darkness closed around him, and the last thing he saw before he fell asleep was Whitby pawing at the mattress, making biscuits against the sheet.
—
Bastian stirred, his head lifting from the pillow.
The bedroom was dark and quiet, the blinds still drawn.
Whitby snored at the foot of the bed, but De Luca was nowhere to be seen.
For a moment, he was confused as to why he was in a bed, but then he remembered De Luca helping him into the sheets, De Luca flirting with him, De Luca pressing his lips against Bastian’s skin.
Bastian eased himself up, grateful that the dizziness had subsided. He felt a little sturdier than before, though his skin still hummed with the afterburn of the sun. He heard a distant voice. It was low and gruff, coming from another room in the apartment. De Luca?
Bastian left the bedroom quietly so as not to wake Whitby, going to the kitchen.
De Luca was pacing by the balcony doors, his back to Bastian.
He had a phone to his ear and he spoke in a hushed tone.
Bastian couldn’t understand what he was saying.
He raised a hand to shield his eyes from the sunlight streaming in through the doors.
What time was it anyway? The clock on the wall said three.
He felt disoriented from the nap but had slept only a couple of hours.
De Luca hung up the phone and turned, jumping when he saw Bastian.
“Cazzo! Don’t sneak up on people like that.”
“Sorry, dear.”
De Luca pocketed the phone with a shaking hand. “How are you feeling?”
“Fabulous,” Bastian said, though that wasn’t entirely true. He could easily sleep for another couple of hours.
“Is everything all right?” he asked, his gaze flicking to De Luca’s pocket. The phone conversation had sounded urgent.
“Fine. Just the commissario checking up on me.”
Something about his tone caused Bastian to still. Was De Luca lying?
“Would you like a croissant?” Bastian asked, changing the subject. “I bought them yesterday when we arrived.”
“Sì, grazie.”
“I should be thanking you,” Bastian said as he removed two pastries from a paper bag and placed them on a plate, which he set next to De Luca. “For saving me. If you hadn’t intervened, I’d be a pile of ash right about now.”
“Matteo has always been a problem, though I didn’t think he had it in him to lead a mob like that.” De Luca massaged the back of his neck. “I made a call while you were asleep to check his alibi.”
Bastian looked at him expectantly. “And?”
De Luca sighed. “It checked out. According to the owner of the bar, Matteo was there during the hours Luna was killed.”
“Is there any chance they’re covering for him? Maybe Matteo bought the guy off?”
“I’ve known the owner my whole life. I don’t believe he would lie.”
Bastian groaned. “Damn. I suppose that would explain why Matteo is so certain I’m the killer. If he really is innocent, I must look pretty guilty to him.”
He went to the fridge and took out his Bonnie Tyler flask. He sucked blood through the straw, which made him feel a little stronger. A full belly always put him in a good mood.
“He’s no fan of vampires,” De Luca said. “That much is clear.”
“Got to love a bigot. If only he’d calm down for two seconds, he might learn something.”
De Luca picked at a croissant but didn’t eat. “This town has been vampire-free for so long, people feel a certain way about them. They hear stories and they worry terrible things will happen to the people they love.”
“Is that how you felt?” Bastian asked.
De Luca didn’t look at him. “I suppose I had all the old ideas that everybody does. Vernazza has a history with vampires.”
Bastian frowned. “It does?”