Page 71 of Be Still My Unbeating Heart

Letchy.

But a moment alone with the man would be an opportunity to find out more about the mayor.

“This way,” Filip said. Bastian told Whitby he’d be back in a moment and followed the secretary into a dark, cozy cloakroom. The sound of the party was muffled by the racks of coats and jackets that lined one wall. A full-length mirror hung next to a wooden armoire containing an assortment of formal wear.

“This is the best we have,” Filip said, handing Bastian a white shirt and a dark purple suit.

“Perfect, love.” Bastian forced a toothy smile as he took the items. Filip’s fingers grazed his, and he found the man giving him an intense stare. They stood like that for a moment, the clothes clasped between them, and it seemed Filip wanted to say something. But then he turned and went to the mirror, scrutinizing his reflection.

“You can change in here,” he said, pouting as he patted his quiff.

Bastian shrugged and removed his shirt, then kicked off his trousers, standing in his briefs. The secretary was still looking in the mirror, but Bastian had no reflection for him to ogle. Not that he minded people looking. He had nothing to be ashamed of.

“Your accent,” Bastian said, attempting to kickstart a conversation. “You’re British?”

“British Polish,” Filip corrected. “My parents live in Cambridge.”

“What brought you to Vernazza?”

Filip shrugged. “A man. I fell in lust with an Italian. We broke up a month after I moved here, but by then I was obsessed with Vernazza.” He contemplated the mirror. “Must be difficult, not being able to see yourself.”

“You get used to it,” Bastian said, stepping into the suittrousers. They were halfway up his legs when Filip turned. His gaze traveled over Bastian’s bare torso, down to his open fly and his white briefs.

“You certainly don’t seem to have any trouble with your appearance,” Filip said, a fierce glint in his green eyes. The man really was forward.

Bastian considered letting the trousers drop, if it kept Filip talking, then realized he had more dignity than that. He zipped and buttoned the trousers. “That’s very kind of you. And kind of Mayor Moretti to provide a change of clothing. Have you worked for her long?”

Filip looked disappointed at the change of subject and went back to the wardrobe, his long fingers flicking through a selection of masks on a shelf.

“Ever since she was elected,” he said, tone bored.

“And are you an ally, too?”

Filip turned. He held a purple mask in his hands. His smile was almost reptilian.

“Vampires have been misunderstood for so long, it’s time they were treated with the reverence and respect they deserve,” he said. “The mayor understands that.”

“Why does she care?” Bastian asked. “What does she get from welcoming vampires to Vernazza?”

Filip flicked a look at Bastian, his gaze pinched with…desire? Irritation? Bastian couldn’t tell.

“I’ve always wondered what it would be like,” Filip murmured, ignoring Bastian’s question. “The strength of being a vampire. The sensations. The taste.”

Bastian buttoned his shirt with fingers that suddenly felt numb. Something about the hungry way Filip spoke made him think about Luna’s throat torn out on the beach, blood glistening like syrup in the sand.

“Have you ever encountered a vampire in Vernazza?” Bastian asked, tying up his hair in a bun.

Filip approached with the mask. “Not here, just in the cities. But they weren’t my type.” He raised the mask to Bastian’s face, slipping the ribbon over his head, fixing the mask in place. He rested a hand on Bastian’s chest, then tilted his head so that his neck was exposed.

“Let me guess,” Bastian said. “I’m your type.”

Filip smiled and trailed fingers over his throat, drawing attention to the vein pumping there.

“It would be my honor,” the man whispered.

Bastian’s throat swelled at the sight of the vein, thick and proud against Filip’s orange skin. He knew how good it would taste, and Filip certainlywantedto be bitten. That was different from killing. Different from feeding on a person against their will.

But he got the sense that Filip wanted more than that. The way he had been talking, it was like he wanted to be turned.