A low, feral growl escaped Grigore's throat a half second after Greg's power washed over him. He recognized instantly that he was being manipulated by some kind of leftover latent power that Greg must have had before he was turned. That would explain why he knew what he knew, why Grigore's chin and stomach were now sore. His fangs extended, his eyes narrowed, his eyebrows furrowed in an ugly grimace, and he doubled over in blatant rage that rolled off of him in waves. "Seeking this with your sire is a losing battle." He hissed - and really hissed, the sound was exactly like a snake's distinctive warning. He was telling Greg to quit, warning him, but he began to circle the boy, and his posture did nothing to suggest that Greg's power had not worked. "But if I have to break all of your limbs to make you complascent, so be it, child."