He’s an Alpha She doesn’t Care novel Chapter 99

Jared

He’d heard everything his father had stated, and was happy with it, but there was still a full concern about Wynta’s safety and, right that very minute, he was inclined to just go and sit in her apartment, just to make sure she was safe. He’d asked Chris to let him know if Wynta left it. She had, but only to go and get a coffee and chat with those that worked on the ground floor. Then she’d returned to her apartment, Chris had actually kept his eyes upon her the entire time.

He’d also seen nothing suspicious, like overly muscled-up men just standing around for no reason, he’d not seen anyone actively watching her, and he’d looked for those things for Jared. Yet, despite Chris’s protective presence, Wynta had caught sight of him and, with an exaggerated roll of her eyes, acknowledged the fact that one of the pack’s warriors was shadowing her.

She would simply have to cope with it. Even after her attempts to remind him of their complicated relationship that morning, when she had touched the mating bond band on his wrist, it was clear she wanted him to understand that she was not his Mate—not unless that band illuminated with the glow of their connection. She seemed to want him to lessen his concern for her well-being, or perhaps she was trying to convince herself that if it didn’t glow come the full moon, they would be nothing more than strangers for the rest of their lives.

Jared was uncertain whether her actions were meant for her own reassurance or his. He had instinctively pulled his hand away from hers, not wanting to dwell on what that moment could signify for their relationship. It felt almost effortless, the way they had shared space in her apartment—it was as if they belonged there together. Yet, in that fleeting moment, he found himself wishing he wasn’t bound by the very thing that signified his status. Until that morning, the band had never bothered him, but today it felt like a shackle, a reminder of the responsibilities that came with being the eldest son of his father.

The thought that Wynta would use it as a barrier between them troubled him deeply. She had chosen her words carefully, ones that would push him away, and he had complied. Perhaps he should have simply pulled her into him and confessed his feelings, disregarding the significance of the mating bond band entirely.

He was aware that he could ask his father to remove it if he chose to step back from his role as the next Alpha. After all, he had established his own successful company in France. He could even start a new pack there if he truly desired. But the truth was, he missed home more than he cared to admit.

Growing up in that pack, he had aspired to be its next Alpha, and both he and Creed understood the weight of that aspiration. Leaving had been a statement to his father, demonstrating that he could build and create wealth independently. Over the past eight years, he had successfully allied their home pack in San Francisco with four European packs.

None of his brothers had achieved anything close to his accomplishments. Sure, Lance’s mate had allied their pack with Cedar Rapids, but it was a minor alliance, resulting in trivial business dealings—barely a whisper compared to his own achievements. Dwane, despite being mated to Tallah, would see greater benefits from his bond than Lance would. Mason Keller owned an international shipping empire, with connections to a Kitsune pack in Italy. His father had even mentioned links to two packs in the States, both of which had Kitsunes, through Alpha Sloan and a niece. Mason’s influence stretched wide across Europe and America.

Jared and his unit would always bring more to the table than any of his brothers. All that remained was for him to find his Goddess-Gifted Mate, and he was convinced that Wynta was the one. So was Creed. She was captivating, witty, and intelligent—stubborn, yes, but there was not a single facet of her he didn’t admire.

Leaving her apartment that morning had left him in a state of frustration with himself; after a delightful morning spent together, he had relished their camaraderie, which had felt nearly perfect. The way she had allowed him to cook breakfast for her without hesitation, the playful banter they shared—it was lighthearted and fun, devoid of the usual sexual tension that often accompanied their interactions.

He had found an unexpected joy in those moments, envisioning a future where he could repeat that morning ritual with her every day. The thought of stealing half her breakfast and watching her pout in mock annoyance made his heart flutter. It was endearing, and he cherished seeing her in that light.

He had also taken pleasure in knowing she enjoyed his favorite meal, the way she savored the omelet and smiled at him, praising his culinary skills. He could tell he had surprised her—she hadn’t expected him to be capable in the kitchen.

But then again, he was 82 years old, having lived in a penthouse for the past eight years, far removed from the pack lifestyle. He could cook, clean, do laundry, and maintain his living space to an impeccable standard. He managed a multimillion-dollar company, was fluent in two languages, and still managed to be just an ordinary guy behind closed doors. Yes, he had his moments of arrogance, but he could also unwind and be the average Joe when he wanted to be, just as he had been that morning.

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