Mortal enemies.

Who needs those?

Isn't it easier this way, she croons, to forget all the shit they fed us, all the shit about hate, and to let it all go?

Her intense gaze makes him only the smallest bit uncomfortable.

Yes, he agrees, leaving the reluctance behind. It is easier. It doesn't matter who's a vampire, who's a werewolf. I don't care.

And then the Child of Night's undead lips meet the Child of Moon's.

It doesn't matter.