Page 4 of Running with the Alpha’s Son (The Alpha’s Son #3)

The car is way too quiet. We’ve been driving for nearly twenty minutes and we’ve barely said two sentences to each other. The only sounds accompanying us are the smooth whirr of the tires and the gentle hum of the engine. I clear my throat too loudly.

“Music?” Jasper says, and flicks on the stereo. “What sort of thing do you like?”

“Pretty much anything.”

A screen in the center of the dash lights up with a selection of music, presumably connected to the music app on Jasper’s phone. He flicks through until I spot an artist I like.

“This is good,” I say.

He glances at me, then to the screen, then nods, as if he’s cataloging some piece of information away for later, then he places both hands back on the wheel and focuses on the road.

Why is this so bizarre? We’ve been in his car before and things have never felt this strained. Then again, we’ve always been driving to or from some major calamity or big pack event. There’s always been plenty to talk about. It occurs to me now that we’ve never just hung out, not really. We’ve always been consumed by the drama of our lives, the push and pull of our relationship. We’ve never just been cool with each other. It should be amazing, a weight off. So why is it so hard to think of anything to say?

“So, uh, what have you been up to since New Year’s?” I ask, cringing internally.

Jasper’s eye twitches almost imperceptibly. He flicks a thumb over the volume control on the wheel, turning the music down.

“Things were a little tense after the party,” he says. “After, well, you know.” He glances at me, blushing ever so slightly. He means since he kissed me in front of everyone. “My father and Alpha Morven have been in meetings all week. Morven wasn’t too happy, he thinks we lied to him.”

I’m not surprised Morven is pissed. Earlier that night Jasper and Jericho had given him the impression Jasper would be available to mate with Mia in the near future. It wasn’t an outright lie but it wasn’t the truth either. It was almost the last straw for Jasper and me. I wonder how many straws are left before Morven turns his back on the alliance between our packs completely.

“Is he still allied with your dad?”

“After four days of meetings he returned to the Rocky Pack to consult with his advisers. The last I heard he’d said he needed time to consider his position.”

“And Mia?”

Jasper’s throat bobs as he swallows. “He made her go back with him.”

My chest aches. “Is Olivia okay?”

“Hard to say. She’s not the most emotive. I think they’re just relieved Mia hasn’t been forced into an arranged mating, yet. I spoke with my father, implored him to help them. He said he would do what he could but things are tense. Morven is one of our strongest allies and without his support we’re vulnerable to attack along our northern and western borders.”

“Aren’t we allied with any of the packs between us and Colorado? We must have some friends.”

“A couple. But there are twelve packs between us and the Rocky Pack. Father sent me to speak with our current allies to firm up those connections while he’s been visiting alphas from the other packs. That’s why I didn’t call you back, I was a little occupied. I’m sorry.”

I shuffle around in my seat. “It’s okay. Sounds like there’s a lot going on.”

“Still, I don’t want my duties to get in the way of this…” He reaches out a free hand and places it on my knee. There are those tingles again. “Let’s change the subject.”

“Okay.”

I lean back in my seat, watch the streetlights swish by, and try to think of something, anything, not pack related to say. After what feels like a lifetime I manage to eke out, “What’s uh, what’s Harvard like?”

“Fine,” Jasper says, not offering more detail.

“Cool.”

A song comes on that I like and I nod along ever so subtly, but Jasper notices and, I think, desperate to relieve some of the awkwardness from the car, turns up the volume. We drive the rest of the way into the city just listening to music and vibing.

Once we’re in the city I’m able to relax a scooch. Something about the hubbub, the busy streets outside the windows, the noise and motion, relieves a bit of the pressure.

“You going to tell me where we’re going yet?” I ask as we cruise downtown toward the financial district.

“Nope.”

Eventually, we pull up outside an art deco high-rise. Jasper casually slides to the curb and switches off the engine.

“Uh, I don’t think you can park here,” I say.

“It’s fine,” he says with a grin. “Wait there.”

I glance around in confusion as he jumps out of his door and dashes behind the car. In a moment he appears at my window to open my door and help me out. What a gentleman, amiright?!

“Sir.” A lady in a red vest appears with her hand open to accept the keys. Jasper hands them over with a twenty-dollar bill and I stare open-mouthed as she slides into the car and takes off.

“You just let her drive off like that?” I ask.

“Of course.” Jasper shrugs like this is the most natural thing in the world, then gestures to the door before heading inside.

We’re whisked up something like sixty floors in a gold-plated elevator, stopping with a ping when we reach our destination. The doors open to reveal a sleek, modern restaurant. Circular tables of black marble are surrounded by designer chairs with deep-mahogany armrests and cushions upholstered in rich ochre-colored velvet. Floor-to-ceiling windows run around the perimeter of the room, which looks as if it could seat a hundred dinner guests but is currently conspicuously empty.

“Are they open yet?” I ask, eyeing the smartly dressed waitstaff idling in the background, the bartender wiping the empty onyx bar, and the ma?tre d’ in a tuxedo coming toward us.

“Master Apollo,” the man—slicked-back silver hair, an impressive mustache, a bend in his back not unlike a banana—says, smiling to greet us. “Welcome, welcome. It’s our pleasure to host you this evening.”

“Thank you, Giovanni,” Jasper says, like he’s greeting an old friend.

“Right this way, sir.”

Giovanni spins on his heel and escorts us to a table right by a north-facing window. Manhattan is a glittering painting stretching out before us.

“Your dinner will be served shortly,” Giovanni says, helping us into our seats. “May I fetch you something to drink?”

“Just a seltzer for me,” Jasper says. “With a slice of lime.” He glances at me and I somehow have forgotten all of the drinks. Do I ask for something sophisticated like wine? I don’t even like wine.

“Uh, a Coke?” I ask, lifting my hands so Giovanni can whip my napkin open and drape it across my lap. “Also with lime.”

“Very good, young sir.”

Once Giovanni is gone, Jasper smiles across the table at me. “They do an amazing tasting menu here. Best vegetarian food in the city. I hear the venison is excellent as well.”

I rack my brain trying to remember if venison is deer or lamb. “Jasper, where, um, is everyone?”

On all sides the remaining tables are set, ready for guests, with silver cutlery placed at exact lengths on either side of a folded napkin, water and wineglasses standing at the ready, bouquets of real flowers—lilies I think—sprouting from designer vases in the center. But the chairs are all empty. Has there been a zombie apocalypse and no one told me?

“I wanted us to have some privacy,” Jasper says, “so I booked out the whole place.”

“You…?” I glance around again. This place is seriously fancy––like next-level-rich fancy. “But that must have cost a fortune.”

“It’s fine.”

Our drinks arrive and with them our first course. I stare down at the small plate with an indistinguishable mound of ingredients in the center; orange balls and brown specks, tiny herbs, and a creamy-looking sauce oozing outward. I’m pretty sure the food is staring back at me.

“Enjoy,” Jasper says, taking up his cutlery and diving in.

I prod at the mound with my fork. “It looks…great.”

Tentatively, I fork a little of the mound into my mouth and I can’t believe the explosion of flavor that erupts on my palate. “Whoa.”

“Pretty good right?” Jasper asks.

“I’ve never tasted anything like it, it’s so small but so intense.”

What follows is a series of fine-dining courses, each small and delicate, a strange medley of ingredients, some I’ve never heard of, compiled into artlike dishes, all of them completely tasty. It turns out I actually enjoy fancy-person food. And I suppose I don’t feel so conspicuous in my hoodie and jeans considering we’re the only diners in the entire restaurant, but there’s also something a little off. For whatever reason, conversation just isn’t flowing the way I thought it would. Maybe it’s the sound of my cutlery scraping on the plate, the fact we can hear the chefs in the kitchen, every movement of the waitstaff. Maybe being the only customers is actually more conspicuous than if we were surrounded by other people.

“Is everything okay?” Jasper asks over our entrées. Mine is duck served in a hot pot with sauce and vegetables, Jasper’s is some sort of vegetable parfait.

“Mmm, yeh everything is great.”

Jasper eyes me quizzically. He drops his cutlery. “You hate it.”

“No! No, it’s not that. Everything is amazing. This food is insane. It’s just…”

“What is it?”

“It’s just, everything is so amazing and fancy, it’s just a little hard to, I dunno, relax.”

Jasper wipes the corner of his mouth on his napkin then drops it on the table next to his dish. He looks around, perhaps taking in the expensive light fixtures, the grand view, the waitstaff who outnumber their customers. “It’s too much, isn’t it?”

“Maybe a little. Not that I don’t appreciate the effort and, you know, the cost. I just thought seeing as we won’t get to hang out for a while maybe we could do something a little more fun.”

“Fun?” He raises a brow.

“Yeah, fun. Heard of it?”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Strike!”

The pins tumble every which way and I pump my fist, turning to find Jasper staring open-mouthed.

“What? I have secret talents, okay?”

“I wouldn’t have agreed to bowling if I knew I was gonna get sharked.”

I shrug, pleased to have the upper hand for once. “Your turn.”

We’re halfway through our first game and my score is already nearing a hundred while Jasper has only just surpassed fifty. His first few turns he kept rolling gutter balls, much to my surprise. He stands over the balls, a stern expression on his face, as he takes his time choosing the perfect one. In his fancy outfit he looks delightfully out of place, like a prince descending to mingle with the commoners.

The bowling alley is wonderfully busy. Kids and families are everywhere, people on dates are laughing and cheering when they score big. Cheesy old-school pop music is blaring from the sound system, and the thud of balls and the clatter of falling pins is so loud we almost need to shout to be heard over it all.

Finally, Jasper chooses a ball, which he slides his fingers into, then takes a moment to line up the shot. He hurls it down the lane and I jump as it connects with the pins, wincing as it knocks over all but two.

“Ooh, a seven-ten split,” I say. “Bad luck.”

Jasper growls lowly, grabs a new ball and throws it a little more gently this time toward the right pin. Before his ball can connect it topples sideways into the gutter. Defeated, Jasper returns.

“That’s too bad.”

“Don’t get cocky,” he teases. “You’re up.”

As I make my way to the ball-dispenser-machine thing I take a second to revel in this moment. A couple of weeks ago I thought things between Jasper and me were over for good, but here we are at a bowling alley on a date, laughing and teasing each other. It’s like some bizarro-fantasy I never thought would actually happen.

Before I can choose a ball I notice a kid and his dad a couple of lanes over staring at Jasper. The boy is pointing and saying something to his dad, who nods and encourages him forward. The boy skip-runs to Jasper and I step back from the balls so I can hear their interaction.

“Excuse me,” the boy says. “Are you Jasper Apollo?”

A quick whiff of his scent tells me this kid is a werewolf. I glance over at his father, who gives me a nod hello.

“I am,” Jasper says, kneeling so he’s eye to eye with the boy. “What’s your name?”

“Tommy,” the kid says.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Tommy.”

“Who’s that?” Tommy asks, turning to scowl at me.

“That’s my friend, Max. Do you want to say hi?”

“Not really.”

Jasper glances at me and I can’t help but laugh. I wouldn’t want to meet me either, kid.

“Tommy, that’s enough,” the boy’s father says, coming to collect his son. “Leave the future alpha alone.” Tommy runs back to his dad, who reaches out a hand to shake Jasper’s. “It’s a pleasure.”

“Same,” Jasper says.

It’s strange watching him while he interacts with them. They know so much about him, probably feel like they know him, but to him they’re complete strangers, and yet he’s perfectly at ease, his decorum and willingness to engage perfected with years of practice.

“Didn’t think I’d ever see you in a place like this,” the dad jokes.

“I’m here with my mate.” Jasper gestures to me. The dad takes another look at me, like he’s really paying attention this time.

“Hi.” I manage an awkward wave.

“Right.” The dad sounds a little hesitant. “I heard something about that. Wasn’t sure if it was true.”

“It’s true,” I say.

“Nice to meet you too,” the dad says to me, only I’m not certain he means it. “Come on, Tommy. Let’s leave them to their game. You want a hot dog?”

Without saying goodbye Tommy is led away from us back to his lane.

For the rest of our game I can’t help but notice the dad glancing over every so often. Does he not approve of Jasper being mated to me? To a guy? Or is he just confused as to why the alpha’s son is bad at bowling? Either way I do my best not to let his strange looks distract me. I’m determined to whoop Jasper’s ass.

But Jasper notices too and for whatever reason, he’s unable to ignore the dad’s suspicious glances. His game suffers, even more so, and ball after ball lands in the gutter. His heart just isn’t in it.

“Let’s go,” Jasper says, having bowled his last bowl. The dad’s eyes bore into us as we leave the lanes and pass through the doors of the bowling alley.

The ride back is tense. Jasper is clearly not in a great mood. His foot is heavy on the gas and, while I fear for my life on a couple of the bends, we make it back to my place in record time.

“Thanks for tonight,” I say tentatively when we’re back at the curb outside my folks’ house.

Jasper grinds his teeth. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry? I had a nice time.”

“Those people. That father, the way he was looking at us.”

I shrug. “Hey, not everyone is going to be cool with you being mated to me right away.”

“Then why did they interrupt us?” Jasper bangs the steering wheel with the ball of his palm. “Couldn’t they see we were on a date?”

“That’s what you’re angry about? He was a kid, he probably didn’t know any better. I assumed you were used to people approaching you in public.”

Jasper takes a few slow breaths to calm down. “I am, just not when you’re there too. I realize now that being with me might mean people approaching you too. And I’m worried they won’t all be as subtle about how they feel as that guy.”

“You think that was subtle?” I joke, but Jasper is too upset to laugh. “Look, I’m not gonna lie, it was a bit weird to have the guy staring at us the whole time. But it’s okay. It’s a small price to pay if we get to hang out.”

“We only had one night before we have to go back to school. I wanted it to be perfect.”

Okay, so Jasper is being overserious and a little too sensitive, but that’s part of who he is and so I can’t help finding his reaction pretty damn adorable. But I also hate that he thinks he’s failed on some level.

“So it wasn’t exactly perfect,” I say. “You can’t control everything and it was still pretty great. I had a good time.”

“I don’t know when I’ll see you next,” he says.

“Look at me.” He turns so that our eyes can finally meet. “You’re seeing me now.” Suddenly, an idea pops into my head. “I want to show you something.”

“What is it—”

I don’t answer Jasper’s question because I’m already slipping out of the car and making my way toward the side of the house.

“Come on!”