Chapter 26
“It’s my turn to play nurse,” Bastian said as he dipped a cloth into a bowl of warm water, then wrung it out.
His remaining shirtsleeve was rolled up; his hair tied back.
While his focus remained on De Luca sitting next to him at the rough-hewn table, he couldn’t help snatching glances around the inspector’s kitchen, his curiosity piqued.
After fleeing the mayor’s house, Bastian had insisted on taking De Luca home, and he’d practically had to force the inspector to give up his address.
Bastian didn’t understand what De Luca was so worried about.
His home was every bit as neat and sweet as Bastian had expected.
The front door opened straight into the kitchen, which was cozy and modest, dominated by a large table that looked easily a century old.
A staircase in one corner led to the upper level.
There was surprisingly little of De Luca’s personality in the decor, though.
While the marble counters and antique metal stove were spotlessly clean, the exposed brick walls held a couple of faded art prints that must have hung there for decades, and the wooden cooking utensils in ceramic pots looked well used and worn smooth.
Bastian got the impression that the kitchen had barely changed since De Luca moved in and that De Luca himself spent little time there.
Sitting at the table, the inspector looked drained but more lucid than before.
His black hair was messier than Bastian had ever seen it.
Absurdly, being attacked by a vampire suited him.
He looked, well, ravaged, and Bastian couldn’t help wondering if this was how De Luca looked when he first woke up in the morning.
Or after a breathless encounter in rumpled sheets.
Whitby perched at the window, keeping watch, although her eyes periodically closed before snapping open again. The night had worn them all out, and it was still only nine p.m.
“Does that hurt?” Bastian asked, pressing the cloth to De Luca’s neck.
De Luca winced but said, “No.”
“A good thing he only got in one bite,” Bastian said, cleaning the wound carefully.
“A second longer and he’d have turned you into supper.
” Bastian shook his head. “I still can’t believe it was the mayor’s husband.
A shame, really. Mayor Moretti’s allyship could have been good for Vernazza, if her motives weren’t so… conflicted.”
“He was different from you, the vampire,” De Luca said. “Wilder. Angrier.”
“Vampires have personalities and temperaments just as humans do. Some of them are spectacular arseholes.”
“They’ll kill him. The council.”
“Yes, I think they will.”
De Luca stared at Bastian. “If you hadn’t been there when I…”
Bastian smiled. “You’d have handled it, Inspector.”
“No.” De Luca took his hand. “I wouldn’t have. He was strong. Crazy strong. If you hadn’t been there, I’d be dead.”
Bastian felt the air between them thicken. He was leaning toward De Luca in order to treat his wound, and De Luca leaned toward him, too; Bastian wanted to reach out and touch that beautiful face.
He looked past the inspector at Whitby, whose head had dipped to her chest. A second later, she jolted upright, muttering under her breath. A smile played on Bastian’s lips.
“Whitby, darling, the killer’s caught. Why don’t you rest?”
“What about the town?” she asked. “The Obliterati could burn it.”
“I’ll keep watch. We can see half the town from here. You should rest for a bit.”
“But I’m not tired,” Whitby said, then yawned so wide that her eyes rolled back in her head. “Maybe I’ll just close my eyes for a moment.” She hopped onto a chair and padded in circles before settling, curling up with her tail covering her nose.
Bastian found De Luca still looking at him. The inspector swallowed and wet his lips, and Bastian heard his pulse. A part of him wished De Luca would just grab hold of him. Take what he wanted. Let go. But the inspector’s reticence was charming, too.
“Darling,” Bastian said, but a sound froze him.
The ceiling creaked. A noise upstairs.
“Is somebody else home?” Bastian asked.
“No,” De Luca said, too quickly. “This place is ancient. It’s always making noises.”
“I should check,” Bastian said, starting to rise. “Somebody could be—”
“It’s just the house,” De Luca said, his hand still around Bastian’s.
“Okay, if you’re sure.” Bastian took another cloth and dabbed De Luca’s neck dry. “You live here alone?”
De Luca nodded, though he wouldn’t quite meet Bastian’s eyes. Flustered, perhaps? “It was my parents’ house. I inherited it after my mother died.”
“It’s sweet. Reminds me of English cottages. Don’t you ever get lonely? Being here on your own?”
De Luca’s gaze dropped. “My job is pretty time-consuming.”
“Of course.” Bastian winked. “No time for fun.”
“Not until you.”
“Inspector, I believe you’re flirting.”
“I’m trying.”
“Here,” Bastian said. He took a plaster from the first aid kit and fixed it gently to De Luca’s neck. “You’re as good as new.”
De Luca smiled. “Thanks. It’s been a while since somebody…”
“Looked after you?”
De Luca gave a small shrug.
“The honor is all mine.”
De Luca ran his thumb over the back of Bastian’s hand. “I’ve been thinking about what you said. About letting go.” He raised Bastian’s hand and kissed it. The feel of his lips sent a shiver of pleasure down Bastian’s spine.
“And what have you decided?” Bastian asked.
De Luca’s ears turned pink. Bastian leaned in and kissed his neck, gently, right where he had been bitten. De Luca sighed and his scent was intoxicating.
Bastian kissed up his neck to his jawline, moving toward his mouth.
Another creak sounded above their heads.
Bastian looked at the ceiling again. He was sure he heard something up there.
“Ignore it,” De Luca said.
Bastian smiled. Even though he wanted nothing more than to keep kissing him, he stood.
“Your shirt is bloody. You rest here and I’ll fetch you a change of clothes.”
“No, don’t—” De Luca said, but Bastian was already at the stairs. He knew what he’d heard and he had to check the house was safe. It wasn’t just vampires that had made the past few days difficult. What if Matteo the cat café mob leader was lying in wait for De Luca to go to bed?
Bastian went up to a dark, cramped landing, where he followed the sound that had distracted him. He heard the inspector coming up the stairs behind him, calling his name, but he paid him no mind, drawn to the second door.
He pushed it open and peered into a bedroom.
A man lay asleep in the bed. He was handsome, dark hair swept back from a noble face, eyes closed, eyelids fluttering.
Bastian’s ears filled with the sound that had drawn him up there.
Breathing.
The sound of somebody breathing.
He turned to look at De Luca, whose face was stiff with guilt. And guilt could only mean one thing.
Salvador had been right.
He’s hiding the truth from you.