Summer Cursed

“Stop touching me,” I growled. He dropped his hold on me and took a few steps back. “If you didn’t want me here, you should have told me in the text last night. Instead, you tease me with the information I’m looking for just to get me here. Why? Just to insult me? I get enough of that from your damn pack. I don’t need it from you too.”

“You misunderstood.”

“Oh? And what didn’t I understand? Did I misunderstand you ignoring over twenty years of your packs’ attacks on me? Is that it?”

“No. You misunderstood my not agreeing with Philip.”

“Ah, so you are okay with your mutts attacking me every chance they get. Did I understand that correctly?”

“I never said that.” He heaved a sigh and ran his hands through his hair. “I do not have time for this.”

“You stopped me from leaving.”

“Yes, that was a mistake.” He turned on his heel and strode out of the room through the door to the kitchen.

“Asshole,” I growled as I hurried out of the dining room. I slipped on the tile and my ankle twisted. “Ow, motherfuck that hurts.”

Before I could take off the shoes, Philip appeared from nowhere. “You’ve hurt yourself. May I be of assistance?”

“No. Please let go of my arm. I think you’ve done enough.”

“At least allow me to see you out. I can ensure you do not injure yourself again.”

“Do whatever you want, just don’t touch me.” Shoes in hand and ankle already healed, I made a beeline for the front door.

He held my car door open but blocked me from getting in. “I take it things did not go well at dinner.”

“Clearly not. Now, move before I make you.”

“Of course,” he said, stepping aside so I could get in. “Be patient with him.”

He closed the door and made his way back to the house before I could respond. “Be patient with him? Fuck that.”