Bad Love: An Alpha's Regret

Chapter 88

AARON

“Then get off your as s, quit hiding like a scared little girl, and fight them yourself.”

Leah’s chest heaves. She’s angry and she should be. She’s

been fighting me for most of her life, why the he ll would she

start feeling sorry for herself now?

If anything, she should be elated to be back with her ‘family’

“Hey,” I catch her hand before she can storm off. That spark is there, as strong as ever. “Take a

second. I didn’t come here to

argue with you.”

“You sure about that?”

“Tell me what you need.”

Her eyes search mine like she wants to say something.

I use the grip on her hand to pull her closer, but she pushes against my chest, blocking me from

holding her. “Just tell me the protocol, Aaron. It’s been a bit of a slow transition here and I’ll be honest, I

haven’t made a great mark to start. What

would you do in my shoes?” she asks candidly.

“Show your strength, Leah. You’re smart. Show your resilience. What does this pack need, how can

you provide it? Be

supportive and invite the pack-every member-to contact you directly. I know there’s risk with that-”

“Is that what your welcome package was about?”

The guns and knives? “Yeah. Mostly. Speaking of…you’re not carrying.”

“No. Uh. I saw you and I rushed out without thinking.”

Her answer pleases me.

She addresses my men. “It’s good to see you all. I appreciate the support and that you’d come this far

to help me.”

It’s not like they had a choice. But several of my guys nod or take a knee. “We’re happy to be here,”

Claudio says.

Another teammate, Benny, says: “It’s an honor to attend your

coronation, Alpha Leah.”

She smiles brightly.

And there it is, that burst of light and life that I’ll forever

associate with this woman. I’ve missed it. Missed her.

“Set up a perimeter,” I say quietly and four of my guys move to take point. “If you can get the main hall

restored to order, that might be the best place. Or we could even look to do a cocktail reception in the

dining room.”

I eye the vast open yard with its almost calf-high grass. “We could mow this field, I suppose. If you’d

rather be outside.”

“No,” she says quickly.

I agree. The conclusion of one of these ceremonies would typically involve shifting. Leah can’t do that.

So we don’t want to point to reminders of her inability.

I grab her hand again and squeeze it. “This is your show, honey.”

She nods. “You’ll help?”

“It’s why I’m here.”

“Let’s prepare the main hall then. I think just cleaning out the frat house vibes will make the space more

welcoming overall. This is the main packhouse. It should accommodate children

and families.”

I nod. To my men I say, “Get in there. If we need something, don’t waste time asking. Just take the

initiative to get it.”

The guys file past and into the house.

Leah rubs her arms. “Cold?”

She doesn’t reply but I see the gooseflesh rising on her skin. I briskly rub her arms. It’s meant to be

perfunctory. She’s cold. I’m warming her.

Tell that to my di ck. Text © by N0ve/lDrama.Org.

It’s been hard since she answered the phone.

And now that my hands are on her skin, it’ll take a miracle to stop me from dragging her into the

nearest room, closet or nook and f**king her senseless.

I’ve had fantasies about that stu pid twin bed.

But seeing her expression just now…something’s not right.

“What aren’t you telling me, honey?”

She startles like I’ve slapped her. “I, uh, should take a shower and make myself look more

presentable.” She frowns. “I don’t

know what to wear.”

I nod toward one of several trunks my men carried in. “There

are a couple of pantsuits that might do the trick.”

She smirks. “Look at you into fashion. We’ve come a long way, huh.”

“Yeah. We have.” I can’t help but agree.

I ordered the back fields mowed after all. The grass will likely stick to feet and shoes and get dragged

inside, but there is nothing to be done for it

We need a place to set up the bars and to move out all the booze. And lest my brother and his

packmates fr eak the f* ck out, I thought it better to move their stash rather than pour it

down the drain.

I’m not sure the kitchen staff is up to the task and the wolffl remembered so fondly from my childhood

passed away a few years ago, I’d learned. The chef is a nineteen year old wolf with an attitude and

penchant for fusion dishes.

I like that he wants to take ownership of the menu. I think he

was expecting me to boss him around. Instead I shook his hand. Welcomed him to my pack. And told

him to make us proud.

We’ll see if that results in something amazing or the kind of sp iteful coup that might ruin this entire

party.

This is a country estate, it’s not like Uber eats or Doordash are