“Wrong meal, Misery. Also, I don’t take orders from the chick who once gave me toenail fungus.” “Shut up. Acknowledge me as your Alpha!” “Love, we’ve been over this,” Lowe murmurs, patting her knee. “It’s not how it works.” “And bring me gifts of gold, frankincense, and peanut butter!” “Misery, I’ve seen you flick boogers at passersby.” “I was a child.” “You were seventeen.”
