Bite Me! Part Deux
Copyright© 2026 by Megumi Kashuahara
Chapter 4: Concert Preparation
Three Days Later
The area in front of the Eiffel Tower had been transformed.
A massive stage, three stories tall, dominated the Champ de Mars. LED screens flanked it on both sides. Lighting rigs crisscrossed overhead. Sound systems capable of reaching 150,000 people hummed with potential energy.
Selene stood backstage in her dressing room, watching the preparations through the window.
“This is insane,” she murmured.
“This is your vision,” Mrs. Choi corrected, checking her tablet. “All tickets sold out in 47 minutes. PPV pre-sales exceeded projections by 600%. Security is in place. Medical teams are standing by. And Gregor arrived an hour ago.”
“Where is he?”
“Somewhere. Being ominous, presumably.”
Selene snorted. “Great.”
Lucian emerged from the bathroom, adjusting his stage outfit—black leather pants and a mesh shirt that left little to the imagination. His hair was artfully tousled, makeup subtle but effective.
He looked like sin incarnate.
“Mon Dieu,” Selene breathed. “The fans are going to riot.”
“That’s the idea, isn’t it?” He pulled her close, careful not to smudge her makeup. “How are you feeling?”
“Nervous. Excited. Vindicated.” She laughed. “Is it petty that I want Laurent to watch this and suffer?”
“Extremely petty. Also completely justified.”
A knock at the door.
“Enter,” Selene called.
Gregor stepped in.
Even in the colorful chaos of a concert backstage, he looked like death itself—all in black, expression neutral, eyes missing nothing.
“Enforcer,” Lucian said coolly.
“Marquis. Selene.” Gregor’s gaze swept the room. “I wanted to establish ground rules before the performance begins.”
“Ground rules?” Selene raised an eyebrow.
“I’m here as an observer, not a participant. I will not interfere with the show unless I witness an actual threat to vampire secrecy or public safety. However—” his tone sharpened slightly, “—I will be taking detailed notes. The Council will want a full report.”
“Take all the notes you want,” Selene said. “We have nothing to hide.”
“Don’t you?”
“We’re performers, Gregor. We sell fantasy. The audience knows that.”
“Do they?” He pulled out his phone, showing her a social media post.
It was from last night—a baby-fanged fan posting: “Can’t wait for Paris! Going to ask Selene to turn me FULLY! #VampireGoals #SlayerTour”
Thousands of likes. Hundreds of comments echoing the sentiment.
“See the problem?” Gregor asked.
“Those are just—”
“Delusional fans who think you can make them vampires? Yes. But what happens when you can’t deliver? When they realize the baby fangs are all they get?” His expression remained neutral. “You’re creating expectations you can’t fulfill. Eventually, that will become dangerous.”
Selene hadn’t considered that.
Mrs. Choi made a note. “We’ll add language to the contest disclaimers. Make it clear that baby fangs are the only transformation possible.”
“See that you do.” Gregor pocketed his phone. “I’ll be in the VIP section. Enjoy your performance.”
He left as silently as he’d arrived.
Selene looked at Lucian. “He has a point.”
“Unfortunately, yes.” Lucian sighed. “We’ll need to manage expectations more carefully going forward.”
“Great. More bureaucracy.”
“More responsibility,” Lucian corrected gently. “You wanted to be the face of modern vampires. This is what that means.”
Selene knew he was right. Didn’t mean she had to like it.
A stagehand knocked. “Thirty minutes to showtime!”
“Right.” Selene took a breath. “Let’s do this.”
Scene 2: The Performance
The lights went dark.
150,000 people screamed.
Pyrotechnics exploded as Selene rose from beneath the stage on a hydraulic platform, bathed in crimson light. She wore a custom outfit—black leather and strategically placed straps that covered just enough to avoid indecency charges while leaving very little to the imagination.
The opening notes of “Bite Me” thundered through the speakers.
Selene launched into the choreography—sharp, aggressive movements that showcased her enhanced vampire flexibility and strength. Her backup dancers, all dressed as various vampire archetypes, moved in perfect synchronization.
The crowd was already losing their minds.
Lucian appeared for the second song, rising from his own platform. The screams somehow got louder.
They moved together—practiced, precise, deliberately provocative. Every touch suggested more. Every look promised eternity.
In the VIP section, Gregor watched with no visible reaction.
Song three: “Eternal Hunger.”
This was the one. The piano scene. The choreography that had made Laurent apoplectic.
The grand piano rose from the stage floor, gleaming black under the lights.
Lucian took his position at the keys.
Selene prowled around it, running her hands along the polished surface before climbing onto it in one fluid motion.
The first notes—complex, dissonant, beautiful.
Selene moved in time with the music, her body telling a story of desire and danger. She arched back across the piano as Lucian’s hands flew across the keys, the dual meaning impossible to miss.
His playing built, faster, more aggressive.
Selene’s voice climbed with it, breathy and desperate.
The cameras caught every moment—Lucian’s intense focus, Selene’s ecstatic expression, the way their bodies seemed to communicate without words.
The final chord hit.
Selene threw her arms wide.
Confetti exploded.
The crowd roared.
In the VIP section, Gregor’s expression flickered—just for a moment—with something that might have been grudging respect.
Then it was gone, neutral mask back in place.
The show continued—song after song, each more elaborate than the last.
The cage scene.
The feeding demonstration (this time with a very nervous French college student who nearly fainted when Selene bit him).
A new song Selene had written specifically for this concert: “Aristocratic Rebel,” which featured lyrics that were ... pointed.
“They say I’m vulgar, they say I’m crude
But darling, I’m just not subdued
By old men clinging to their thrones
While the world evolves and overthrows
Their dusty rules and ancient pride
I’m the future, step aside”
The cameras cut to reactions in the crowd—baby-fanged fans singing along, waving signs that said things like “VAMPIRE BOOMER TEARS” and “SELENE IS THE FUTURE.”
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