A blast of frigid air filled the tunnel. Salvatore smiled, releasing his own energy to counter the chill with a prickling heat.
The curs stirred uneasily, reacting to the power play between two dangerous predators. Salvatore never allowed his gaze to stray from Tane. Few Weres could best a vampire, but Salvatore wasn’t just a Were. He was king. He wasn’t going to back down from any demon.
At last, Tane snapped his fangs in Salvatore’s direction and stepped back. Salvatore could only assume that the vampire had been ordered to keep the bloodshed to a minimum.
“This will not be forgotten, dog,” Tane warned, turning on his heel and silently disappearing down the tunnel.
“Good riddance, leech.”
Waiting long enough to make sure the vampire didn’t have a change of heart and return to rip out his throat, Salvatore turned back to his waiting curs to discover them battling back their urge to shift.
He grimaced. As a pureblood, he had the ability to control his shifts unless it was a full moon. Curs, on the other hand, were at the mercy of their emotions.
With a shudder, Hess at last gained control and sucked in a deep breath.
“Now what?”
Salvatore didn’t hesitate. “We follow the cur.”
Hess clenched his meaty hands at his side. “It’s too dangerous. The jinn…” His words broke off in a squeal as Salvatore’s power once again reached out, striking the cur like the lash of a whip.
“Hess, on how many occasions have I told you that if I want your opinion I’ll ask for it?” Salvatore drawled.
The cur lowered his head. “Forgive me, sire.”
“The cringing cretin is not entirely wrong.” Levet waddled forward, his long tail twitching. “It had to have been the demon who killed Duncan and knocked both of us out.”
“No one is asking you to join us, gargoyle,” Salvatore snapped.
“Sacre bleu. I am not going to be left alone in these tunnels.”
“Then chase after the vampire.”
The damned gargoyle refused to budge, a sly amusement entering the gray eyes.
“Darcy would not be pleased if something was to happen to me. And if Darcy is not happy, then Styx is not happy.”
Salvatore snapped his teeth. Darcy was one of the female purebloods he’d been searching for over the past thirty years, and while he didn’t have the least fear of her, she’d recently mated with the King of Vampires.
Styx he did fear.
Hey, he wasn’t stupid.
Muttering a curse, Salvatore led the way down the tunnel, his already pissy mood plunging to foul.
“Get in my way and I’ll chop you up and feed you to the vultures. Understood, gargoyle?”
He sensed his curs falling into step behind him, with Levet bringing up the rear.
“Mangy dogs can smooch my posterior,” the gargoyle muttered.
“A jinn is not the only creature capable of ripping off a wing,” Salvatore warned.
A blessed silence filled the dark tunnel, and at last able to concentrate on the faint trail of cur, Salvatore quickened his pace.
It was moments like this that he regretted leaving Italy.
In his elegant lair near Rome, no one dared treat him as anything other than Master of the Universe. His word was law, and his underlings scrambled to do his bidding. Best of all, there were no filthy vampires or stunted gargoyles.
Unfortunately, he’d had no choice in the matter.
The Weres were becoming extinct. Pureblooded females could no longer control their shifts during pregnancy, and more often than not lost their babies before they could be born. Even the bite of Weres was losing its potency. A new cur had not been created in years.
Salvatore had to act, and after years of research, his very expensive scientists had at last managed to alter the DNA of four female pureblood babies so they could not shift.
They were a miracle. Born to save the Weres.
Until they had been stolen from the nursery.
He growled low in his throat, his anger still a potent force even after thirty years. He had wasted far too much time searching through Europe before he at last traveled to America and managed to stumble across two of the female Weres. Unfortunately Darcy was in the hands of Styx, while Regan had proven to be infertile.
During his trip to Hannibal, however, he’d managed to discover that the babies had at some point been in the hands of Caine, a cur with a death wish who’d convinced himself that he would be capable of using the blood of the females to turn common curs into Weres. Moron.
Salvatore had been in a cabin to meet with one of Caine’s pack who’d promised to reveal the traitor’s location, when he and Levet had been knocked unconscious and kidnapped.
It had to have been Caine who attacked him.
Now the bastard was leaving a trail straight to his lair.
A smile curved Salvatore’s lips. He intended to savor ripping out the traitor’s throat.
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…pureblood.
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.
“Cristo,” he breathed, his blood racing, an odd tightness coiling through his body, slowly draining his strength.
Almost as if…
No. It wasn’t possible.
There hadn’t been a true Were mating for centuries.
“Curs,” Levet said, moving to his side. “And a female pureblood.”
“Si,” Salvatore muttered, distracted.
“You think it’s a trap?”
Salvatore swallowed a grim laugh. Hell, he hoped it was a trap. The alternative was enough to send any intelligent Were howling into the night.
“There’s only one way to find out.”
He moved forward, sensing the end of the tunnel just yards in front of him.
“Salvatore?” Levet tugged on his pants.
Salvatore shook him off. “What?”
“You 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’t noticed the musky scent that clung to his skin.
Merda.
“One more word and you lose that tongue,” he snarled.
“But…”
“Do not screw with me.”
“I do not intend to screw with anyone.” The gargoyle curled his lips in a mocking smile. “I am not the one in heat.”
Hess appeared beside Salvatore, halting his urge to rip off the gargoyle’s head.
A pity.
“Sire?” the cur demanded, his thick brow furrowed.
“Take Max and the other curs and keep guard on the rear. I don’t want anyone sneaking up on us,” he commanded.
It was unlikely the cur would recognize Salvatore’s disturbing reaction to the female’s scent. Hess hadn’t even been transformed when the last mating had happened. Not to mention the fact that he was as thick as a stump. But Levet was certainly annoying enough to let the cat out of the bag.
Waiting for the curs to grudgingly shift back, he gave the gargoyle a shake before dropping him onto the ground.
“You—not another word.”
Regaining his balance, Levet glanced upward, his wings fluttering and his tail twitching.
“Um. Actually, I have two words,” he muttered. Then, without warning, he was charging forward, ramming directly into Salvatore and sending him flying backwards. “CAVE-IN!!!”
Momentarily stunned, Salvatore watched in horror as the low ceiling abruptly gave way, sending an avalanche of dirt and stone into the tunnel.
Because of Levet’s swift action, he had avoided the worst of the landslide, but rising to his feet he was in no mood for gratitude. Hard to believe this hideous day had just gotten worse.
Moving to the wall of debris that blocked the tunnel, he sent out his sense to find his curs.
“Hess?” he shouted.
Levet coughed at the cloud of dust that filled the air. “Are they…?”
“They’re injured, but alive,” Salvatore said, able to pick up the heartbeats of his pack, although they were currently unconscious. “Can we dig our way through to them?”
“It would take hours, and we risk bringing even more down on our heads.”
Of course. Why the hell would it be easy?
“Damn.”
The gargoyle shook the dirt off his wings. “The tunnel is clear behind them. Once they recover they should be able to find a way out.”
He was right. Hess might have a brain the size of a walnut, but he was as tenacious as a pit bull. Once he realized he wouldn’t be able to reach Salvatore, he would lead the others back to the cabin and return overland to dig them out.
Unfortunately, it would take hours.
Turning, he glanced toward the stone wall that marked the end of the tunnel.