If he didn't want meat and the juices that came with it rotting in his room, then he shouldn't have sent it to her. He brought this on himself, and maybe that had been his intention all along. Heather hadn't taken the time to really think about it. Was he simply provoking her? She'd backed down when they'd argued over the journals, maybe his note and 'present' were a way of getting her to finally put up.
"I'm not a bitch... you're the dog in the room. Fucking call me a bitch again, and I'll rip off your balls!" she threatened. She wouldn't actually rip them off, even though she wanted to. Instead, she'd render them useless. God forbid this man reproduce!
His fists flew in a sloppy sort of way. It was instantly clear to her that he had no professional experience in fighting, but that didn't necessarily mean he didn't know how to fight. Some people were damn good scrappers without any sort of training. Still, her skills had been finely tuned over the years, and she'd learned from the best... including a born lycan.
She quickly slipped the punches. Pivoting back toward him a fraction of a second later, her right fist hooked toward his exposed ribcage. God it felt good to be fighting again!