With an innocent yet wicked curl of his lips, he threw out a domineering, chauvinistic pig excuse: "Margie, it's vampire law! The queen must not interfere in politics." His tone was infuriatingly smug, as if reciting scripture carved in stone.
Damn rules! My fingers twitched with the urge to smack that self-satisfied smirk off his face. Instead, I retaliated in kind, crossing my arms. "Since our wedding, I forgot to lay down three commandments. As your queen, I won't meddle in politics—but as your top-tier wife, I order you to remember these three rules!"
He shrugged with a dismissive laugh, his broad shoulders rolling in a way that made my temper flare hotter.
"First," I jabbed a finger at his chest, "since you're the new king, don't weaponize old decrees against me. I'm no vampire, and I don't follow vampire customs. I march to the beat of my own drum."
