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A near half hour passed as Salvatore weaved his way through the winding tunnel, his steps slowing as he tilted back his head to sniff the air.The scent of cur was still strong, but he was beginning to pick up the distant scent of other curs, and_pure-blood.Female pureblood.Coming to a sharp halt, Salvatore savored the rich vanilla aroma that filled his senses.He loved the smell of women. Hell, he loved women.But this was different.It was intoxicating.__risto,_ he breathed, his blood racing, an odd tightness coiling through his body, slowly draining his strength. Almost as if_No. It wasn__ possible.There hadn__ been a true Were mating for centuries.__urs,_ Levet said, moving to his side. __nd a female pureblood.___i,_ Salvatore muttered, distracted. __ou think it__ a trap?__alvatore swallowed a grim laugh. Hell, he hoped it was a trap. The alternative was enough to send any intelligent Were howling into the night.__here__ only one way to find out.__e moved forward, sensing the end of the tunnel just yards in front of him.__alvatore?_ Levet tugged on his pants.Salvatore shook him off. __hat?___ou smell funny. Mon Dieu, are you_ With blinding speed, Salvatore grasped the gargoyle by one stunted horn and yanked him off his feet to glare into his ugly face. Until that moment, he hadn__ noticed the musky scent that clung to his skin.Merda.__ne more word and you lose that tongue,_ he snarled.__ut___o not screw with me.___ do not intend to screw with anyone._ The gargoyle curled his lips in a mocking smile. __ am not the one in heat.