Chapter 142

Christina's POV Ysolde tapped my shoulder, snapping me out of my daze. "So what birthday gift would the noble Luna of the Sabreridge Pack desire?" she asked with a playful formal tone that made me snort. I played along, adopting an exaggerated queenly air. "Nothing extravagant. I'll cherish whatever you bestow upon me." She always had this irritating talent for guessing exactly what I wanted, like she had permanent access to my browser history. "Noted," she said, then hip-checked me, completely destroying my feigned elegance. We spent the entire afternoon arguing about which drawer should hold the polishing tools. She kept joking that all the ring stands looked like male genitalia. "They even come in different sizes," she pointed out. "Just wait until you see how talented your sausage stuffers are," I shot back dryly. "Sausage stuffers!" She doubled over laughing, rolling on the floor. I sighed. Alpha Emmett wasn't wrong about his sister's immaturity. Around six, I started packing up.