The Vampire's Luna -
Chapter 92: Taylor Swift - Look What You Made Me Do
Chapter 92: Taylor Swift - Look What You Made Me Do
With the grace of a spoiled werewolf princess, she subtly raised her hand, let it trail up to her hair... and with the most casual flick of her fingers, gave Seliora the royal middle one.
From across the room, Luna saw Seliora’s already pale face turn a dangerous shade of pink. It was pure rage.
Luna, smug and victorious, let out a soft chuckle.
Damien leaned down, his lips brushing her ear. "What’s funny?"
She glanced up at him. "Nothing. Just inside humour."
"Should I be worried?" he teased, smirking as he scanned the room and finally noticed Seliora’s death stare. "Ah. Got it."
The ceremony continued. Applause broke out as Lord Bishop rocked his new grandbaby proudly before handing the child to its wide-eyed, vampire parents.
Damien watched them closely, a strange softness spreading over his usually unreadable features. He leaned a bit closer to Luna. "That could be us."
She followed his gaze. And something about it tugged at the strings of her soul.
"Maybe someday," she replied.
Damien sighed. "I hope that someday is close."
Her head turned, sharply this time, eyes narrowing just slightly as she looked up at him. There it was again—that tone. Like he was counting down a clock she couldn’t see. Like he was racing fate in secret. He always said things like this. Hinted at things. Spoke of time like it was something borrowed.
"What?" Damien asked, his brows quirking slightly as he noticed Luna watching him with quiet intensity.
"Nothing," she replied too quickly. Her eyes, however, remained fastened on his profile. She couldn’t shake the feeling that he was saying goodbye in pieces, scattered across casual conversations.
"Brace yourself. Lord Bishop is heading toward us," Damien said. As always, he deflected.
"Prince Damien...Princess Luna..." Lord Bishop greeted, inclining his head. "Thank you for your presence."
"It is a rather nice party," Luna commented politely, her lips curved in a court-perfect smile, though she tightened her grip on Damien’s arm just slightly. She had learned that in vampire circles, civility didn’t always mean sincerity.
"Thank you. My first grandbaby," Lord Bishop chuckled. "It is a cause for celebration, considering us Truebloods are quickly dwindling."
"Congratulations," Damien offered with a courteous nod, though there was a shadow in his eyes. It was subtle—barely there—but Luna noticed it.
"Please, eat, drink, dance and have fun," Lord Bishop added before moving on to another group of esteemed guests.
As soon as he was out of earshot, Luna leaned toward Damien, keeping her tone low. "What did he mean... ’Trueblood’?"
"You really do not know anything about vampires, do you?" Damien teased, a glint of mischief in his eyes.
"Oh, just speak," Luna shot back, nudging him with her elbow.
He chuckled under his breath. "Truebloods are the original vampires. The pure ones. They weren’t turned—they just... are. They’re born vampires, not made."
"Like royals of the bloodline," she mused aloud.
"Exactly," Damien said. "Truebloods are born of Truebloods. It’s what gives them their long life, raw power, and... political clout."
Luna’s brows furrowed, and she hesitated before asking the next question. "So if...if—big if—we have a child... it will be a Trueblood?"
Damien tilted his head, studying her face before nodding slowly. "A hybrid. Born of a Trueblood and a werewolf. It would carry both bloodlines, which makes it... complicated. And powerful. Dangerous to some, a blessing to others."
"Like what Morvakar made me into?" she asked softly.
"You were born of magic. You are a werewolf but tainted with the blood of a vampire in your veins," Damien said quietly, the words deliberate, as though he knew each syllable would land heavy.
Luna’s eyebrows shot up, a wry smirk tugging at her lips despite the tight coil in her stomach. "In a way, I have two fathers," she said with a dry chuckle, trying to mask the weight of that truth with humor, as she often did.
"You could say so," Damien replied with a small, sad smile. There was pride in his voice, but there was regret too. "And the last time I met Morvakar, he was proud of you."
Luna’s amusement vanished. Her face froze mid-expression.
"You met Morvakar?" she asked. Her eyes searched his face, disbelief and disappointment flaring behind them.
Damien winced. "Oh oh... Is that one of the things I forgot to mention?" he asked.
"Holy freaking goddess," Luna muttered, the words nearly a whisper, but the betrayal in them cut sharp. Her lips parted to say more, but she shook her head instead. "I’m just gonna go get some air."
She turned before he could stop her, her dress swaying. Another thing that wasn’t explained. Another carefully wrapped truth tossed into her lap.
*****
Damien stayed frozen in place, jaw clenched, hands in fists at his sides. From the corner of his eye, he could see her silhouette on the patio. She stood still against the backdrop of the moonlight, her arms crossed, shoulders stiff.
He wanted to go after her, but he knew better. Luna didn’t need someone to chase her when she was mad—she needed someone to give her the goddamn space to breathe. And gods, he was trying. It was just... every time they took one step forward, something always yanked them three steps back. Whether it was ancient secrets, dangerous pasts, or vampire concubines—it was always something.
"I’m going to take off now," Seliora said suddenly, stepping up beside him in her floor-length black gown, her hat now tucked under her arm, her eyes scanning the crowd without interest.
Damien blinked, as though just remembering she still existed. "So soon?" he asked.
"Well," Seliora said with an airy shrug, trying her best to sound indifferent but not quite succeeding, "turns out I cannot steal the princess’s thunder. She’s made quite the impression and now I’m just an inconvenience who has to answer questions from curious citizens." She laughed a little, but it was hollow.
"What kinds of questions?" Damien asked, a small, wry smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he folded his arms loosely across his chest. He wasn’t surprised by her admission—vampires were many things, but subtle wasn’t usually one of them. Especially when gossip was involved.
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