The Mate He Thought Was Human

Chapter 4

For a moment, I couldn't remember where I was. Then, the memories of what happened came rushing back.

My heart slammed violently against my ribs as I pushed myself upright too quickly. Pain exploded at the back of my head, sharp and disorienting, making my vision blur for a second before everything settled into place.

The door opened without a knock.

A woman entered carrying a tray. She was of average height, beautiful, older, with kind eyes and grey streaked hair pulled back neatly. She looked at me like she was relieved but something about it felt wrong.

"You're standing," she said. "Good."

Her eyes moved quickly over me, checking for injuries before she seemed to realize I was watching her.

"Where am I?" I asked.

"Safe," she said. Exactly what Damien had said.

"Everyone keeps saying that," I said. "Nobody is explaining what it means."

She set the tray on the desk. Soup. Bread. Water. "Eat first. Then Damien will come back and give answers to all your questions ."

"I want answers now."

She looked at me for a moment. Something in her expression shifted. Not unkind but firm.

"Young lady," she said quietly. “You were unconscious for six hours. You have a head injury, and you're currently somewhere very few outsiders ever see.” She gestured to the tray. "Eat please."

Then she turned and left. The door clicking shut softly behind her. I kept my eyes on it long after she was gone, her words settling heavily in my chest.

Most humans never see and live to remember.

That wasn’t comforting. It felt like a warning I didn’t fully understand yet.

I glanced down at the tray she had left behind. The food looked normal but I didn’t reach for it immediately.

A quiet unease settled over me, tightening in my chest as my thoughts began to spiral.

What if this was where they had brought me? What if “safe” didn’t mean safe for me?

I didn't know where I was, who these people were, or whether I could trust Damien but one thing was certain which is I wasn't going to sit quietly and wait for someone else to decide what happened to me.

My fingers curled slightly against the edge of the table as I tried to steady myself, but my stomach twisted in protest, reminding me how long it had been since I’d eaten.

Reluctantly, I sat down.

I told myself I would only take one bite just to ease the hunger but one bite turned into another.

The soup was warm, better than I expected, like someone had actually taken time to prepare it.

That should have been comforting but It wasn’t because it made everything feel more deliberate. I had just set the spoon down when the door opened again.

Damien came in. For a second, neither of us moved. He looked different. Not like the man I had met outside the school gate, and not like someone who didn’t belong anywhere.

Here, he fit.

Two people had passed outside the doorway. The moment they noticed him, they lowered their heads slightly before continuing.

He was in dark trousers, plain shirt, nothing about him trying to stand out. And yet, he still did effortlessly. The space around him adjusted without question, like the place itself acknowledged him in a way it didn’t with anyone else.

It made me acutely aware that I was the one out of place.

Something in my chest tightened the moment my eyes landed on him. Not relief, not fear but something stranger than both. Like my body had reacted before I could even understand why.

He sat in the chair by the window without being invited. Like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"How's your head?" he asked.

"It has been better," I said. "Who were those men?"

He was quiet for a moment. "Enemies."He said,like the words carried consequences

“Humans?” I asked.

“No,” he said immediately.

“You’re not safe out there,” Damien added, his voice lower now, less explanation, more warning.

My fingers tightened slightly against the edge of the bed. “Safe from what?”

For the first time, he hesitated.

“From things you don’t understand yet,” he said.

“You keep telling me I don't understand,” I said. “Then explain it.”

His jaw tightened.

“Not yet.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

I stared at him. “That's not an answer.”

“It's the only one you're getting right now.” And that was all he gave me.

Somehow, it was enough to make everything feel worse.

I set the bread down slowly, my appetite gone again. “And why were they coming after me?”

His gaze didn’t move away from mine.

“Because of who you are to me.”

My chest tightened. “And what exactly am I to you?”

He studied me for a long moment, something unreadable shifting behind his eyes, the same restraint I had noticed before, like he was constantly holding something back.

“That’s a complicated answer,” he said finally.

“You're stubborn.”

“You've known me for two days.”

“And I've already figured that out.”

He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees, eyes locked on mine.

He was silent for a moment. Then, his eyes narrowed slightly.

“ Nova….What do you know about wolves?” he asked.

I almost laughed. “Wolves?”

“Yes.”

“I know they live in packs,” I said. “They howl at the moon. And I know they’re definitely not supposed to be the reason three men chased me down a street and knocked me unconscious.”

Something flickered at the corner of his mouth, almost a smile, but it disappeared before it formed.

“What if I told you,” he said quietly, “that there are things in this world most people live their entire lives without knowing exist?”

I looked at his steady eyes and his careful words and the way he sat like a man who was used to carrying things he couldn't put down.

“I would say that the last forty-eight hours have already convinced me of that.” I answered slowly.

He nodded once.

“What I’m about to tell you cannot be unheard,” he said. “Once you know it, you cannot unknow it. Are you sure you want to hear it?”

My mind flashed briefly to the dream. The wolves bowing, the voice calling me home, the strange warmth that lingered on my skin since the moment he touched me.

All of it felt less like coincidence now.

“Tell me,” I said.

He took a slow breath.

“I am not human,” he said simply. “Neither are the men who attacked you last night.” His gaze held steady. “We are werewolves. And this place you’re in right now is my pack’s territory.”.

I waited for the disbelief to come. The rational part of my brain that would reject everything he had just said and demand a reasonable explanation but It didn't come. Instead something else rose up quietly from somewhere deep inside me. Something that felt less like shock and more like recognition. Like a door opening onto a room I had always known was there but never been able to find.

“Say something,” he said.

“The dream,” I said quietly. “I’ve been having it my whole life. Wolves bowing, a voice calling me home.”

I looked at him again. “That meant something, didn’t it?”

Something sharp shifted in his expression.

“What did you just say?” he asked.

“The dream,” I repeated. “Wolves bowing, eyes glowing, a voice saying ‘come home.’ I’ve had it since I was seven.”

He went completely still. For the first time since I'd met him, Damien looked genuinely shaken.

“Nova,” he said slowly. “Wolves don’t bow to humans.”

The words landed heavily between us.

I stared at him.

He stared back.

And in the silence between us something enormous, terrifying and inevitable began to take shape.

"Then what do they bow to?" I whispered.

He didn't answer immediately.

But the look on his face said everything……