Page 86 of Be Still My Unbeating Heart

Back in De Luca’s room, Bastian pressed a hand to the inspector’s naked shoulder.

“Nico,” he whispered. “Wake up.”

The inspector made a sleepy sound and tried to pull Bastian into a hug.

“De Luca, seriously. Your br—”

A scream tore through the still air.

De Luca bolted upright. He stared at Bastian, eyes wide in the dark. Bastian turned to the window, certain the sound had come from outside.

“What—” De Luca began, but he was cut off by another scream. A man.

Bastian shot to the window and opened it. Night air tangled in his hair as he scanned the street, hearing footsteps retreating, but seeing nobody, not even with his keen sight.

Then he spotted a shape slumped to the ground outside De Luca’s house. He couldn’t tell who it was. They were cloaked in shadow.

Without hesitation, Bastian jumped from the window, landing on the cobbles and hurrying to the figure. He tried not to think about what he’d find.Whohe’d find. If De Luca’s brother was dead…

Bastian rolled the figure over. They wore all black and the smell of blood was overpowering. Bastian took in sallow skin and deep-set eyes that shone up at him, glazed with panic.

It wasn’t De Luca’s brother. It was—

“Salvador,” Bastian whispered.

The man gasped for air, his mouth opening and closing like a stranded fish. His throat gaped where it had been torn to shreds, blood pulsing from the wound. An infinity pin glinted on the cobbles beside him. Bastian’s stomach knotted. His head spun.

Salvador made a horrible sound, and Bastian started pulling off his own shirt.

“Stay still,” he said, pressing the shirt to Salvador’s neck, buthe knew the wound was fatal. Dark blood covered his hands. Salvador thrashed against the cobbles, his bony fingers clutching Bastian’s forearms. The blood smelled oily and spiked with whiskey, and Bastian tried to ignore it.

“Listen,” Salvador hissed. His teeth were red.

“Don’t try to talk.” Bastian attempted to keep the shirt over the man’s neck, but it kept slipping.

“I know who…” Salvador tried to swallow. “I know who…”

His shoulders became rigid, then relaxed. He stopped clawing at Bastian’s arms.

He lay back.

His heart was still. He was gone.

“Shit,” Bastian whispered, shaking as the night air caressed his bare shoulders. He heard movement behind him and whirled to find De Luca coming out of the house, his shirt unbuttoned, trousers wrinkled, feet bare.

“Dio mio,” De Luca said, but he wasn’t looking at Salvador; he was looking at Bastian. Bastian saw that his chest and arms were covered in blood. The scent made him shake. In years past, he would have licked every drop from his skin, but not now. For the first time, he felt he had control over the hunger. True control. It no longer dictated his actions. Whether it was because he had been sated in other ways, he couldn’t be sure.

“I tried to help him,” Bastian said. “But he was too far gone.”

“What’s going on?” Whitby asked, appearing on the front step and sniffing the air. “What are you two doing out here in the—”

She stopped sniffing, her eyes settling on the body.

“Salvador’s dead,” Bastian said.

“Did the mayor’s husband escape?” Whitby asked.

“I don’t know.”