“I can manage not to step on your feet.”
“Good enough.” He leans back. “The theme this year is Arctic Royalty. Which means everything will be nauseatingly Christmas-themed.”
Something in his tone makes me look up. There’s an edge there, sharp and bitter.
“You don’t like Christmas?” I ask carefully.
“I hate Christmas.” His voice is flat. “The performative cheer, the forced sentiment, the tacky decorations everywhere. It’s all fake. People pretending to be better versions of themselves for a few weeks before going back to being terrible.”
I blink, stunned by the venom in his words. “That’s... severe.”
“It’s honest.” He picks up his whiskey, swirling it. “If I had my way as Lycan King, wolves would be forbidden from celebrating Christmas entirely. But the Council insists on this Summit
