Carpathian 01 - Dark Prince

never use a female for experimental purposes. I must be the one to take Romanov's blood if you insist on the continuation of his life." Gregori was not asking.
    The two Carpathians moved easily through the narrow halls of the psychiatric ward of the hospital. The humans experienced a cold sensation, nothing more, as the two passed unseen through the building. They streamed through a lock hole, a flow of vapor like a heavy tinted fog, swirling through the room to wrap around Romanov's body like a shroud. Romanov cried out, fear gripping him as the mist wound around him like a snake, slithering over his ribs, his wrist, curling around his neck and beginning to wind tighter and tighter. He could feel it on his skin, a vice that continued to twist his body like a corkscrew, but as Romanov clawed at the vapor, his hands passed right through it. Voices hissed hideously, whispered, threatened, so quiet as to be mere threads of sound in his head. He clapped his palms over his ears in an attempt to stop the insidious murmuring. Saliva dribbled from his slack mouth; his throat worked convulsively.
    The mist separated, one part trailing to a comer and hovering just above the floor. The other slowly thickened, shimmered, began to take shape, until it formed a muscular, broad-shouldered man with pale eyes of death. Rudy began to shake uncontrollably, backing into a corner, making himself as small as possible. The apparition was too vivid, too menacing to be anything but real.
    "Romanov." Gregori's fangs gleamed white in the darkened room.
    "What are you?" The words came out a hoarse croak.

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    The pale eyes glittered, narrowed to unblinking slits. "You know." The pale eyes stared into Rudy's, stared deeply. Gregori's voice dropped to a low black velvet assault. Hypnotic. Mesmerizing.
    Compelling. "Come to me; feed me. Become my servant until I see fit to give you the curse of darkness."
    There was dawning comprehension in Romanov's eyes, horror, and what amounted to terror. But he inched closer, moving his shirt away from his jugular. Gregori whispered again, his voice so seductive, so compelling, a tool of power. "You will serve me now, come at my bidding, inform me when it is necessary." He bent his dark head slowly.
    Romanov knew his soul was lost. He could feel such power in the stranger, immense strength, and the ability to do things no human could imagine. Immortality. The seduction beckoned him. He went willingly, turning his head to expose his throat. Hot breath, piercing pain as the fangs sunk deep. Romanov could actually feel his life's blood flowing like a river from his body. The pain was intense, a burning hell he was helpless to stop. Nor did he wish to. A curious languor swept over him; his eyelids were far too heavy to lift.
    The mist thickened in the room, wrapped around Gregori, streamed between the Carpathian and his prey. Reluctantly, with a growl of protest, Gregori lifted his head from his feeding and contemptuously allowed the limp body to slump to the floor.
    You nearly killed him , Mikhail snapped.
    He deserves death. He is rotten and empty inside, already corrupt. He wants endless nights, helpless women, the power of life and death over mankind. There is much in him like his grandfather and father. He is a hollow shell with worms eating what good is left in him. His mind is a maze of deviant desires.
    He cannot die this way, Gregori. It was a hiss in Gregori's mind, a sign of Mikhail's displeasure. As it is, we have enough attention directed at our people. If Romanov dies from severe blood loss…
    I am not so careless. Gregori shoved the body aside with his foot. He will live. It was his grandfather that began this…
    His name was Raul; do you remember him? He was demented as an old man, vicious as a young one. He beat his wife and went after young girls. I stopped him once. Mikhail was suddenly thoughtful.
    And earned not only his hatred, but also his suspicion. He watched you after that. Spied on you every chance he got, hoping to find something to condemn you. Something gave you away — a gesture, the way you spoke; who knows? He passed his suspicions on to Hans. Gregori gave the body another push with his foot. Romanov used a fax machine to send copies of the evidence to several individuals. The originals are in his house, under the floorboards in his parents' bedroom.
    Gregori watched as Rudy Romanov attempted to crawl