Bad Love: An Alpha's Regret

Chapter 337

AXEL

I’m so furious with Emily and the fact I scented another man on her that I don’t even realize what I’ve

done until I get back upstairs and see some of the housekeepers and Jessica gathered by the foot of

the stairs, staring at me with wide, alarmed eyes and shocked expressions.

I glare at them with a low Alpha snarl, and they scatter, rushing off and out of my sight.

I stalk up to my room and slam the door, but then think maybe I should have gone outside and shifted

to run off some of this fury.

That, and escape the shame rapidly burning hotter and higher within me.

I don’t know how to get through to Emily that she can’t keep running off on her own. It’s especially

worse if she’s leaving the safety of Rathborn lands altogether.

But the fact that she’s clearly meeting up with some other man has singed me all the way to the heart I

claim not to possess.

It shouldn’t matter.

I rejected her.

We can’t even be together, not without her living under constant threat from my enemies.

I should want her to move on and be happy.

Except I’m not that altruistic.

I’m definitely not that selfless.

The idea of her being with someone else is enough to drive me wild with rage, as highlighted by the

fact I just dragged her down to the cellar and locked her up like some kind of caveman.

The shame burns hotter as old memories taunt me. Property of Nô)(velDr(a)ma.Org.

Things I haven’t thought about for decades.

Not even being locked up by that bitch Karolina reopened these old scars, but knowing that I just

subjected the mate I can’t claim to being locked underground in a small, windowless room is eating

away at my insides like acid.

I spent almost one hundred years locked in the cold, damp, dark dungeon of a castle back in Romania.

At the mercy of a ruthless clan of vampires who had figured out how to weaken and subdue me with a

potent mix of wolfsbane, opiates and valerian. Valerian is poisonous to vampires the same way

wolfsbane is to wolves.

Or course, they didn’t give me enough to kill me, just enough to keep me in a constantly weakened

state.

That century is a blur of sickness and misery, the memories of which I usually keep locked down in a

vault inside my mind.

Now, however, my treatment of Emily has brought it all rushing back.

I can’t leave her down there.

I shouldn’t have put her down there in the first place.

Especially knowing she had been locked in that damn house by the old Roberts Alpha for ten years.

But the deed is done now, and I’m hoping once she calms down, she’ll finally learn her lesson and stop

sneaking off to shift and run by herself when she’s expressly been told multiple times by both myself,

and Aaron that doing so puts both her and the pack in danger.

I finally manage to get my shit together, although my gut still feels like it's full of stones as I leave my

room to get back to my duties.

I can still hear Emily yelling in a senseless rage down in the cellar, so I head outside where I won’t be

able to hear her.

I’m not letting her out until she’s calmed down and ready to listen to reason.

A few hours go by and it’s dinner time.

She must be calmer by now, and as I step into the house and focus my heightened senses, I don’t hear

any shouting coming from the cellar any longer.

I decide to go and make a tray, then take Emily’s dinner up to her room, ready for her to arrive. And if

I’m extra careful selecting the most tender cuts of meat and perfectly cooked vegetables for her, then

no one will ever be none-the-wiser about it.

I then go down to the cellar, approaching the door slowly in case Emily starts up her rage and

aggression again when she hears me coming.

However, everything on the other side of the door remains quiet.

So quiet, it almost makes me suspicious about what she might be planning now.

Maybe she’s thinking about jumping me the second I open the door, so I’m wary and on alert as I

unlock it and then swing the door open.

I wince when I see how the back side of the door is all scratched up with deep claw marks gouged into

the wood.

And when I first glance around the small space, I don’t see anything, and for a second, I’m incredulous

as I think someone must have come down here and let Emily out—someone like Jessica.

But as I’m turning to leave, planning to storm upstairs and demand who dared interfere, I catch a

glimpse of Emily’s foot poking out from behind a stack of supplies in the corner.

“Emily?” I call softly, wondering if she actually fell asleep, or is just sitting in an exhausted heap after

wearing herself out with all that anger.

She doesn’t answer, so I cautiously step forward, still thinking this is some kind of trick, and that any

second now she’s going to jump up and rush me to escape.

But she doesn’t move, and as I round the stack of supplies, I see she’s squeezed herself into what has

to be an uncomfortably tight space.

“Emily, you can come out now,” I say, looking down at her.

I can’t quite see her face from the way her hair has fallen across it.

She doesn’t answer, and doesn’t move, as if she didn’t even hear me.

“Emily?” I repeat, starting to feel worried now.

She still doesn’t answer or move, and my heart leaps into my throat.

What have I done?