Warrior's human mate

Chapter 20

James

I had mind-linked everyone not to touch the room where Laila had slept. And thank the Goddess for that.

The moment I got home, I rushed upstairs, agitation burning through me. I pushed open the door and inhaled deeply—her scent still lingered in the air. It calmed me.

I went straight to the bed, lying down where she had slept. The sheets held the strongest trace of her, so I took slow, deep breaths, letting her scent ground me. My wolf, restless and unsettled, finally started to ease.

I spent the entire day in that room, forcing myself to focus on the good moments instead of replaying the morning over and over—the sadness in her eyes, the way she had pulled away, the tears she had tried to hide.

At some point in the evening, Fay walked in. I didn’t even have to look—I could feel her presence before she spoke.

"Why are you sulking in here, bro?"

I glanced up. She stood in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest, her expression unreadable. I didn’t want to talk to her. Not after this morning. Not after how her careless words had dimmed Laila’s light.

I sat up, my jaw tightening. "Just as I was saying goodbye to Laila, she started to cry."

Fay’s posture stiffened. "Oh no. What did you do?"

I snapped. I shot to my feet, frustration boiling over. "I didn’t do anything! You did!"

Her eyes widened as I glared at her.

"She was sad all morning, Fay! You saw it! It started after you made those comments about how she should change and how she looked like sh.it!"

Fay flinched but recovered quickly, crossing her arms tighter.

"I didn’t mean to upset her!" she shot back, her voice rising. "I didn’t expect her to react like that! I just wanted to give her some better clothes and— I don’t know—shoes! Maybe some socks! I wasn’t trying to hurt or offend her, okay? I was just trying to help!"

Her hands flailed in chaotic gestures before she suddenly went still.

Then, in a much softer voice, she added, "I… I’m sorry, okay?"

I blinked. Did my sister just apologize? Did she ever do it easily? No. Abso-fu.cking-lutely not.

I tilted my head, studying her. "You like her, don’t you?"

Fay’s gaze flickered to the side. She was quiet for a moment.

Then, almost in a whisper, she admitted, "Yeah… I do."

Well. Damn.

Fay didn’t like people. She barely tolerated most of them. She had two best friends, and that was it. She judged everyone ruthlessly. And she hated every single girl I had ever brought home—on principle.

Now I had to ask.

"Why?"

She turned to face me fully, her expression serious, but her eyes alight with something fierce.

"Any girl who doesn’t throw herself at you within the first five minutes of meeting you is a girl I’m going to like."

She said with mean spite. Ouch.

"And she’s resisted you for three weeks already," she continued, her tone dripping with something between amusement and grudging admiration. "Even though I know you’ve been showering her with all your sweet bu.llsh.it."

I smirked. She wasn’t wrong.

"She even flipped you after the date and didn’t give a da.mn about your diamonds and shi.t," Fay added with a smirk of her own.

Then, with a glare, she delivered the final blow.

"Guess what that means? I think I love her already."

I let out a breath, nodding. Yeah. That made sense. I could see something deeper in Fay’s eyes—something more than just approval. But I didn’t push. Instead, I just looked at my little sister.

Fay was a beautiful young she-wolf, sharp as hell and often a pain in my a.ss. Sometimes, I swore she hated my guts. Like now.

But I still loved her. And I hoped she got a good mate one day. If not… well. I’d love to beat his a.ss. With pleasure. I smirked inwardly.

Laila

It was late Sunday morning, and I was texting my sister on Whats.App when my phone started ringing. "James The i***t" flashed across the screen.

I smiled at the name. He was an i***t. A fool who followed me around, trying to swoon me.

"Yes?"

I wasn’t a hello person.

"Hey! How are you today?"

James’ voice was bright, full of warmth.

"Well… I’m better," I said slowly. "I slept, so I… refreshed."

It wasn’t entirely a lie. I had rested. Some. But the rest of my time had been spent brainwashing myself—reminding myself why I couldn’t, shouldn’t, even be friends with James.

The more time I spent with him, the more attached I became. He was making his way into my heart, and that was dangerous. He was easy to like, easy to enjoy, and my traitorous mind had already started spinning fantasies—ifs, coulds, woulds—that had no place in reality.

I would never live in the States. I doubted he’d move to my homeland. And I refused to have my heart broken again. A heart can only take a few. I think I have had enough already, so I had to be cautious. And I knew that if I spent more time with him, my resistance would break. So my decision was clear: I couldn’t see him again.

"I’m happy to hear that!" he said, and I could practically hear the smile in his voice.

"Do you have any plans for today?"

Hope laced his words. I could tell he had something in mind. I should make myself busy.

"Well... I was thinking of exploring the city," I said truthfully. "I haven’t seen much yet."

This had been on my mind since I arrived. But somehow, every moment of my free time had been spent with James. No wonder I was getting attached.

"Nice plan!" he said enthusiastically. "I can give you a lift and be your tour guide."

I let out a slow breath. If I want to stop seeing him, what do I say now?

"Well..." Think, girl. Think.

"You probably have better things to do than entertain me," I tried.

"Nonsense!" he shot back immediately. "I have nothing to do today. And I can take you to places that aren’t in any guidebook or on Trip.Advisor. I know every corner of this city—everything worth seeing."

Damn it. He dangled the perfect offer right in front of my face. I scrunched my nose, groaning inwardly.

"Hmm…"

It was tempting. I had always loved the "off the beaten path" kind of adventures.

"That does sound interesting," I admitted. "I don’t know anyone else here who could advise me on those kinds of things…"

"And you don’t need anyone else, because I’m here," he said smoothly.

I could hear his smirk.

"As a proper, cultured American, I was raised to treat my guests with high value," he teased.

I rolled my eyes.

"Come on, get ready! I’ll pick you up in half an hour," he added, his tone bossy, expectant.

He wasn’t going to take no for an answer. And honestly? I wasn’t interested in saying it, either. I was too curious to let such an opportunity slide.

"Okay, I’m getting ready," I muttered, scrunching my nose as my brain pulled me in two different directions.

"Great!" James’ cheerful voice rang through the speaker.

"I’m getting in my car, so chop-chop, girl!"

I groaned. "Aye, aye, Sir!"

He laughed. "I like this attitude. You should always talk to me like that."

"Ha! You wish. Bye, I’m getting ready."

I hung up before he could come up with a comeback. I sighed, staring at my phone. What am I doing? Okay. I would hang out with him today. And then I would stop seeing him.

I winced as my consciousness kicked in with full-blown force. Was I being a b.itch? Using him?

Guilt curled in my stomach. I wasn’t a mean person. I didn’t play with people. But James was relentless, and I felt trapped—cornered by his charm, his kindness, his sheer persistence.

***

I fastened my seatbelt and glanced at him. He was looking as good as always. Bright smile. Twinkle in his eyes. What…?

"So, when are you going to come on a date with me?" he asked casually, like he was asking about the weather.

I frowned.

"Uh… never?"

James grinned. "Come on! That’s too harsh, even for you."

I narrowed my eyes. "Hearing you now, I suspect you weren’t even serious."

He shrugged, flashing that stupidly charming smile.

"I had to try."

I stared at him. "Why?"

"I never know when you might surprise me."

And then he flashed his perfect, bright teeth, looking so… handsome. Sweet. Sexy. The more good things I noticed about him, the sadder I became. I turned away, my face twisting. I didn’t want to admit why. James immediately noticed. His smile faded.

"What’s wrong?" he asked, direct and serious.

I sobered, shaking my head. "Nothing."

He didn’t buy it, but didn’t push either.

"So, as a soldier… were you ever involved in any of the U.S. wars? Like Afghanistan or anywhere else?"

I drastically changed the subject, I’d been curious about this for a while. James paused.

"No, never," he said finally. "I’ve always served only one specific… company."

I frowned. "Company?"

"Yeah… it’s like a community," he corrected.

Something about the way he said it made me squint at him.

"A soldier for a company and community?" I repeated, trying to piece it together.

"And a bodyguard," he added, flashing a wink.

Okay. Something was off. The words company and community didn’t sound right. Almost like he was avoiding the real term. Was it a secret? And why would it be a secret?

Something clicked. I turned to him, eyes wide.

"Are you in the mafia?" Where have I gotten myself into? His family was rich, but maybe job titles were just a pretense to the outside world. Maybe I don’t know a true thing about them. And I have this feeling that he is hiding something big from me for a long time.

James choked on air. "What?!"

He stared at me, genuinely surprised.

"No! Why would you think that?"

I raised a brow. "I’m just trying to make sense of this company community thing you’re talking about—"

"It’s not the mafia," he cut in, clearly irritated.

"Don’t worry. It’s nothing illegal," he assured me, his deep voice carrying a serious weight. "One day, I’ll take you there and show you around. Then you’ll understand."

His baritone sent a hum of pleasure through my body. What?! I mentally slapped myself. Get a grip, woman.

"Okay," I said quietly. I must’ve offended him.

James exhaled, and I smoothly switched topics.

"So, will this be like a ‘hop-on-a-bus’ tour, or are we visiting specific places?"

"A mix of both, I guess." James stated. "Any special requests?"

I shrugged. "Today, I’m good for anything. I’ll just follow your lead."

His eyebrows shot up.

"Wow. You will?" He smirked.

"Then I should definitely take full advantage of that."

I rolled my eyes. "I am not following you into your bedroom, so forget about it."

James laughed, his cheeky grin back in full force.

I crossed my arms. "Besides, what does that mean?"

"You’re a strong, independent woman. Leading and managing have made you bossy," he teased.

I scoffed. "If I had a p.enis, they’d call me a born leader." James chuckled.

"It's my life. I like that in my life things happen the way I like or want them."

I added softly with a shrug.

"I’m just teasing you." He added now serious.

"Yeah, yeah," I muttered.

"Better tell me about your travels," he suggested.

I sighed, a dreamy smile forming.

"Well… I love exploring new places. It is fascinating and always gives me a fresh feeling. I love to broaden my knowledge and impressions as it gives me a new or different perspective." I replies, as I remembered some wonderful experiences this far.

James

As she spoke, I melted into her presence, drawn in by the softness of her voice and the way her eyes lit up with thought. I longed for her to look at me with that same dreamy smile, but more often than not, all I received were frowns, raised eyebrows, or sharp retorts. Oh, Goddess, she was so infuriating when she opened her mouth! And yet, like this—lost in her musings—she was magic, something to be admired.

"So many times, I've realized how narrow my perspective can be, how limited my way of thinking is—even with the simplest things."

She spoke as if caught in a revelation, then turned to me with curiosity in her eyes.

"When you hear the word 'forest,' what’s the first thing that comes to mind?"

I didn't have to think long.

"Definitely the forest near my house. The lush greenery, the towering trees. I practically grew up there—running, playing with my friends, going on camping trips with my family."

It wasn’t just that. For my wolf, the forest was home, his sanctuary. Naturally, that made it my second home as well. We were bound to nature in a way words couldn't quite capture.

" I like to connect with nature. Sometimes, it's the only thing that can restore my peace, bring me back to myself. In this crazy, chaotic, gadget-filled world, the forest is my oasis."

I said it almost absently, lost in thought.

"Hmm..." she hummed, momentarily lost in her own reflections. "That’s very true."

Then, as if shaking herself free from the moment, she continued, her words coming faster now.

"So, when you picture a forest, it’s full of pines, maples, oaks, birch trees, and the like, right?"

"Yes."

I nodded in agreement.

"Exactly. My homeland has forests like that too, so that’s the image I've always had in my mind. But then, I moved to a tropical country, and suddenly, the word 'forest' had to transform into something completely different. A jungle—palms, ramón trees, rubber trees, orchids, vines. It seems like such a small thing, but it made me realize how limited my thinking was, as my brain processes the world in a rather uniform and even monotonous manner. These little realizations can be humbling."

I had never considered something like that before. Then again, I hadn’t traveled much.

"That’s a deep and unique perspective," I admitted.

"You’ve traveled quite a lot, haven’t you?" I asked, curiosity piqued.

She shrugged, as if it was nothing.

"Maybe. I did the classic Eurotrip."

"Why ‘of course’?“ I raised an eyebrow at her sudden confidence.

"Well, when the closest foreign country is only a two-hour drive away, you have to go."

She arched her brows at me, and I couldn't help but smile.

"Fair point."

"And sometimes, airlines offer ridiculously cheap flights—one euro, fourteen euros."

My eyes widened. "That cheap?"

"Yup." She popped the 'p' with amusement. "Even a thirty or sixty-euro flight is practically nothing. My friends and I would jump at those deals, traveling all over Europe. We were broke students, so we couch-surfed, stayed with locals, anything to make it work."

"Have you lived in other countries besides the U.S.?"

"Yes, in five," she replied.

"Which ones?"

"Portugal, India, Taiwan, New Zealand, and Costa Rica."

I blinked in amazement. "That’s quite the mix."

"It is. And I loved every single place. Portugal was full of passion and beauty. India was unique—so different from the Western world, with its own rules and traditions. Taiwan surprised me with its cultural diversity—so many indigenous tribes and religions leaving their marks, making it rich and colorful. New Zealand was a fairytale, with breathtaking landscapes. And Costa Rica? Pure paradise. I could retire there just to escape winter back home."

Her voice was vibrant, alive with the memories. I could hear how deeply she had loved every place she had been.

"How did you end up in all those places? Was it similar to now, working on renovation projects?"

She laughed, shaking her head. "Oh, no! Portugal was for my Erasmus exchange program during my bachelor's. After graduation, I joined an organization called AIESEC and did development projects in India and Taiwan. Then, I got a one-year visa for New Zealand, where we worked random jobs while traveling."

I honed in on one particular word. "We?"

Did she travel with a boyfriend? A strange, sharp feeling curled in my chest.

"Yeah!" she said brightly. "I met this Lithuanian girl in Taiwan, and we bonded over our travel stories. We both dreamed of going to New Zealand, so we figured—why not go together? It was safer, and we both qualified for the visa, so we went for it."

I exhaled quietly. A girl. False alarm.

"And Costa Rica?" I prompted.

"Despite traveling all over New Zealand, I managed to save up some money. I searched for the farthest place I could afford to go, and Costa Rica won. I found an organization called Work Away, where I worked on farms in exchange for food and housing."

She shrugged, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

"That’s fascinating."

I absorbed her words, trying to piece her together. She was so different from anyone I'd ever met—unconcerned with luxury, driven by experience rather than status. For her, travel wasn’t about comfort. It was about something much deeper.

"That’s a lot of countries to have lived in, and you’re so young. How did that happen?" I asked, genuinely curious.

Laila shrugged lightly. "Well, I didn’t stay in each place for very long. Portugal was six months, India five, Taiwan only four. New Zealand was the longest—one year. And Costa Rica, five months."

She paused, then added, "I actually wanted to stay in Costa Rica longer, but at that point, I only had enough money to cross the ocean and get back home. I didn’t want to risk spending it all and getting stuck halfway across the world."

"So, all of this was one long journey, back to back?" I asked, trying to piece together the timeline.

"Yes—except for Portugal. That was during my studies. But after graduation, I decided to hit the road and see what else was out there. I had already explored Europe, so I wanted something different—something more exotic. Asia seemed like the perfect place to start. And it made sense to travel continuously, taking one-way flights from India to Taiwan, then to New Zealand and Costa Rica. It was much cheaper than making multiple round trips."

I leaned back, impressed. "So you literally traveled around the globe?"

She tilted her head thoughtfully. "Yeah… I guess it was a full circle in the end."

A question burned in my mind, one I had to ask. "Have you ever thought about staying somewhere permanently?"

"No." The answer came without hesitation.

It hit me like wolfsbane to the heart, spreading pain through my chest.

She continued, unaware of the effect her words had on me. "After living in those first three countries, I realized there’s no perfect place in the world. No matter where you go, you’ll find good and bad—because that’s life. The duality exists everywhere: joy and sadness, laughter and anger, comfort and struggle. Every country has its flaws. And the more I traveled, the more I appreciated things about my own homeland—things I used to take for granted or never even noticed before. It didn’t take me long to learn that the grass isn’t greener on the other side. The grass is greener where you water it and homeland will always give that homey vibe, because in other places you always end up as a guest, an immigrant, an outsider."

She turned to me then, her gaze serious. "Do you understand what I mean?"

I exhaled, considering her words. "Well... I haven’t traveled much, but I’ve never wanted to leave this place."

It wasn’t just personal preference—it was instinct. Wolves were deeply tied to their packs, their land. Leaving was rare, and when it happened, it was usually for mating or tragic reasons. We belonged to our territory the way a river belonged to its course.

"That’s a different kind of attachment," she noted, her expression unreadable.

"True," I admitted. Then, wanting to know more, I asked, "So what happened after all that? What was your next adventure?"

She sighed, stretching her arms slightly before dropping them. "Honestly? That whole journey exhausted me. Constantly adjusting to new cultures, learning different systems, figuring out the basics—where to get a phone number, how to buy a bus pass, where to find food—it takes time and energy. Adapting, creating mental maps, building new social circles… It was amazing, but it wore me out. So after I finally returned home, I didn’t travel for almost two years. This is my second trip to the States. I only do it because I love my work and you can get good money in the States. Salaries in the EU are different. On my first trip here, the Grand Canyon was a must-see. But I didn’t explore much as it was mainly loads of work."

I listened, hanging on her every word. When she talked about traveling, she was animated, her voice full of life. I could listen to her for hours—even if she was just saying "blah blah blah" in different tones. It would still sound like a beautiful melody worth replaying over and over again.

Damn this bond. How could it make me adore someone this much?

I loved everything about her—her depth, her thoughts, her passion. But why did she keep rejecting me? Why did she push me away? Was I not enough? Was my life too small, too ordinary compared to hers?

I clenched the steering wheel, shoving the thoughts away. No self-doubt. Not now.

"Okay, sorry to interrupt your fascinating travel stories," I said as I pulled the car to a stop. "But this is our first stop."

I turned to look at her, but she was already gazing out the window, lost in thought.

***

We walked in silence around Ferril Lake. Late November had stripped the trees bare, leaving only skeletal branches against the pale sky. The fountain was shut down for the season, and the grass had turned brittle and brown under the night’s frost.

She gazed at the lake for a long moment, then turned onto a path that led uphill. We walked side by side, saying nothing, until she suddenly stopped, turning to face the city stretched below us. In the distance, the mountains stood like quiet sentinels against the horizon.

"It’s beautiful here," she murmured, a small, content smile on her lips.

"Yeah…" I breathed, but I wasn’t looking at the view.

I was looking at her. I wanted to say, You are beautiful, but the words got caught in my throat. I didn’t want her to frown, to scoff, to brush me off. I just wanted to watch her—like this—forever. But I couldn’t. So I said nothing at all.

She licked her bottom lip, then caught it between her teeth before running her tongue over her upper lip. What was she doing?

It seemed unconscious—just a small, absentminded movement as she gazed out over the city and lake. But to me, it was hypnotic.

I wanted to taste her lips the same way she had just tasted them.

I was in a trance, drawn to her like she was the only thing in the world worth moving toward. Slowly, I leaned in, my gaze locked on her mouth as if it were prey. I needed to feel her lips again, to claim them, to know they were mine.

Yesterday, when I kissed her, she had cried—but she hadn’t pushed me away. Was that progress? Did it mean I could kiss her now without fearing she'd recoil? Without fearing she'd slap me?

As I closed the space between us, she finally turned to look at me.

I met her eyes, holding her gaze with the full force of my desire. I wanted her to feel it—to be drawn in, trapped in the same spell I was under. I wanted to make her submit to me.

Laila

He moved toward me slowly, his gaze intense, eyes flicking to my lips. I... I...

"The mountains here are amazing," I blurted out.

James halted mid-step, his focus shifting to my face. For a long moment, he just looked at me, then—just as slowly—turned to take in the view instead. I followed his gaze, my heart racing.

Panic flared inside me. I needed to keep talking.

"Even though our seasons are a bit similar to yours here in Denver, my country is flat as a pancake," I chuckled, forcing lightness into my voice.

"But I’ve always been fascinated by mountains. There’s something magical about them."

I smiled softly, hoping the moment would pass, that the tension between us would dissolve.

"I can take you on a hike next time," James said, turning back to me.

There was something in his eyes—something raw. Was it pain? Disappointment? I... I...

"I'm free next Saturday," he added before I could gather my thoughts. "I know a great trail—one tourists don’t usually go to."

"Oh, that sounds great! I’m in!" I replied, too quickly, too eagerly.

And then it hit me. Right. I had decided not to meet him again.

Fantastic job, Laila. You’re really sticking to your resolution.

I shook my head inwardly. What the hell is wrong with me? I’m usually good at following through on my own decisions, my own goals. But James… he was messing with my head.

James smiled softly, as if he could read my thoughts.

"Okay, let’s get to the next stop," he said, nudging me lightly with his shoulder.

I fell into step beside him, following him back to the parking lot, my mind still tangled in knots.