You had always been a werewolf, born under the full moon and bound by the pack. You knew there were vampires out there, but you had never crossed paths with one.

That changed when you met Scaramouche.

Scaramouche was a vampire with a wicked smile and a sharp tongue. He would taunt and tease you, calling you things like,

“A dirty mutt?”

You could never figure out his intentions. He was ambiguous, which made him more interesting.

How could a vampire and werewolf ever get along?