Warrior's human mate

Chapter 12

James

I picked Laila up at eight p.m. on Friday. It was early to hit the club, but I wanted to spend as much time with her as possible. Plus, we would have drinks first anyway, so with fewer people around, it would be easier to talk.

Due to the rouge mission, we didn’t meet for lunch today, but I liked how we had started making it a ritual. The mission had been only partially successful, as we managed to eliminate one branch but didn’t get to the core. We captured a few rogues to interrogate and gather more information about their main base.

My thoughts shifted back to Laila. I could feel my mate becoming more comfortable around me. She was more relaxed, more at ease. Gone was the uptight attitude from last week. That, in my opinion, was a significant improvement. Despite the tension we’d had earlier, she didn’t hold any grudges or push me away.

I believed Laila had started to grow attached to me. On Thursday, she even touched me while walking beside me and talking. The sparks zinged through my body, and the way she did it—almost unknowingly—made it all the more electrifying. But my body sure knew it. I couldn’t help but hope my semi wasn’t visible through my jeans. Maybe it was the mate bond making her do it. The thought excited me. If it were up to me, I’d touch her, hold her, 24/7. I hoped tonight would give me that opportunity. A dance would be a perfect excuse to have her close. I grinned at the thought.

I parked the car and ran around to open the door for her. I extended my hand, hoping she’d take it. She eyed it with a frown before looking me straight in the eyes. Not again. I flashed her my most charming smile, silently pleading with her to just take my hand. Please, no argument this time. She kept frowning but eventually took my hand. Yes!

She stepped out, long legs in black 4-inch heels that added to her elegance. Damn, what a sight. She stood tall, looking every bit the goddess in that sparkly black dress. It had long sleeves, no cleavage, and ended just above her knees. But it curved around her body so perfectly. S.exy without being revealing. I loved that she didn’t expose much of her body. It meant less attention from other men. But damn, I wouldn't mind seeing her shoulders and some cleavage. Still, for me and my wolf, the fewer guys eyeing her, the better.

I opened the club door and led her in. The loud music and bass hit us as we walked in, and the vibe immediately took over. We went downstairs and through a small hallway. The place was still empty, which was perfect. There were a few people at the bar and some sitting at tables.

"Uuh, nice! The dance floor is empty! Let’s hit it!" Laila beamed with excitement. Her eyes sparkled like never before, and it made my heart race. I chuckled at her energy.

"Don’t you want a drink first?" I asked, offering her a smile.

Laila looked at me with an amused expression. "James! Guess what? I don’t drink alcohol."

I blinked, surprised. "Really?"

She laughed, "Is that so hard to believe?"

I shrugged, recovering. "Well, okay. How about something non-alcoholic, then? We could wait for more people to hit the dance floor."

She waved it off. "No way! The dance floor is nice and free! No one’s going to be pushing me. I can use all the space!"

I laughed again. "Isn’t it that girls usually wait until more people show up so they won’t be the center of attention?"

She shrugged casually. "I don’t care about attention. I ignore it. I came here to dance. The fewer people, the more enjoyable it is."

"Fair enough," I said.

"But if you want a drink, feel free. I’ll be right here."

She pointed to the dance floor, her smile mischievous. "In case you’re looking for me," she teased.

I couldn’t help but grin. "So, you’re okay dancing alone then? I can join you if you want."

She looked at me like I’d grown two heads. "Did I give the impression that I’m a shy girl?"

I laughed. "No, not at all. You’re definitely not a shy girl."

"I thought so too."

She raised an eyebrow and gave me a pointed look. I chuckled. She was… amazing. Goddess, give me strength to keep myself at bay, or I might lose control and claim her lips and mouth hard and rough right here, right now. To compose myself, I headed to the bar.

I sat on a stool and ordered a beer. As I sipped it, I watched her. What I saw took me underwater. I was drowning. I was drowning in my emotions, attachment and love for her. It wasn’t professional dance moves or anything, but it wasn’t just swaying hips either. It was something deeper—like contemporary dance mixed with her own unique style. She used her whole body to express the music, the rhythm, and even the lyrics at times. Some songs she sang along to, while others she just felt, moving with the flow. Her eyes were sometimes closed, lost in her own world. She twirled, spun, and moved in such a fluid way. While dancing, she managed to cover most of the dance floor. Quite often she danced just on one leg. The balance and strength of her legs were amazing, especially because she was wearing high heels. She was magnetic, like music was flowing through her. It was impossible not to watch.

She would glance at me now and then and smile, which I found oddly comforting, as though she was acknowledging my presence while immersed in her dance. Every so often, she’d look up at the DJ, as though evaluating each new song. If she liked it, she’d smile or nod toward him. Before long, it seemed like the DJ was picking songs she enjoyed. I couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy as she responded to him, but that passed quickly when I focused back on her dancing, which was more vibrant with every beat.

Her movements were mesmerizing, and she gave herself completely to the music. She even incorporated her hair into the rhythm, flipping it dramatically when the beat picked up. It was like a silent conversation between her and the music. I watched her smile at the DJ and give him a thumbs-up. That did not sit well with me. Was she... flirting with him? She was mine. Mine.

I forced myself to look away and surveyed the club. It seemed like every person in the room, both men and women, had their eyes on her. Even those with dates couldn’t stop sneaking glances in her direction. I let out a quiet growl. The bartenders, too, were stealing looks as they worked. It seemed everyone was enchanted by her moves as well. Could Laila be a witch? I knew that she was a human, but she had everyone under her spell. Some girls shot jealous glares at her, but she didn’t seem to notice or care.

She was oblivious—or perhaps she simply didn’t care. Apart from the DJ and me, she didn’t pay attention to anyone else. The next song that came on was Rihanna’s Rehab. Laila closed her eyes, swaying to the beat. Her face was serious, absorbed in the music, but her movements were fluid, deliberate, and utterly captivating. She was completely in her element.

Then came the chorus, and—wow.

I was utterly transfixed. Every movement of hers seemed deliberate, perfect, like a choreographed dance that only she could perform. Her body moved with a sensual grace that felt almost intimate, as though she were in a world of her own. Her hips swayed, and then she dropped into a squat, moving with such fluidity that I couldn’t tear my eyes away.

Then she quickly opened and closed her knees with her hands and arched her back, sticking out her ass, and went all the way up, her body flowing in a smooth, graceful rhythm. Her right hand reached up toward the sky, fingertips brushing the air, before she kicked her left leg out, toes pointed, her body held in perfect balance. She rested it in the air for a moment, the delicate curve of her leg adding to her elegance, and slightly pressed it against her right knee.

Slowly, she lowered it, her foot brushing the ground, and then she bent toward it. Her right hand touched her foot gently, and her forehead almost kissed her knee in a moment of serene focus. When she finally rose, arcing her back in that very s.exy way, her hair cascaded upward like a ribbon in the wind, and the graceful movement left me feeling as though time had paused.

It was as if she was telling a story with her body, like she was making love with music, and I was helpless to resist. My heart raced, and my body reacted involuntarily. Of course, I was sporting a b.oner in my jeans. My mouth hung slightly open, breath coming in quick, shallow bursts. I swallowed, the movement difficult, as if my entire being was caught in the moment. D.amn. What are you doing to me, woman?

I always thought that a naked woman was s.exy. Now I think the s.exiest thing is the calf muscle when the toes are pointing straight. Laila was such a goddess, and she deserved her body was worshiped. The moment I get my hands on that delicious body of hers, I do exactly that – I will worship it. I will kiss every single spot on her skin before I touch her in more sensual ways. My wolf approved my thought pattern.

I had always thought physical attraction was the most powerful force. But watching her, I realized it wasn’t just about the surface. It was the way she moved, how she made everything look so effortless. Laila was enchanting, and I found myself more drawn to her with every passing second.

The DJ smirked and switched to a song that Laila instantly connected with. She moved her hips, her chest, and shoulders in perfect harmony with the beat popping them and driving me mad with desire. She was magnetic. I could barely keep my composure as I watched her, but it was becoming increasingly difficult.

It was just the beginning of the night, and I already had a hard-on. If the night goes like this in a few hours, I’m gonna have blue balls. F.uck.Me. If by the end of this night I can’t have this fireball in my bed, then the Moon Goddess, kill me here and now. Just put a bullet through my brain. But please don't torment me like this. I prayed silently. This is a twisted kind of torture. The worst kind. I can withstand some wolfsbane and silver. This? Pure mind and body f***k. I was on the edge of becoming mad with desires, lust and need for her.

Lost in my thoughts, I suddenly saw a guy approach her. He smiled and tried to place his hands on her hips. My protective instincts kicked in, and I growled softly, barely audible over the music. Laila, quick on her feet, stepped back and shook her head, signaling that she wasn’t interested. The guy continued dancing but at a distance.

This was it. I had to claim her—show everyone she was mine. I hopped off the stool, and in just a few long strides, I was in front of her. She smiled at me. I glared at the guy, and he reluctantly walked away.

I gathered every ounce of power I had within me and let it radiate outward. The atmosphere around me shifted, thickening with the weight of my presence. I locked eyes with every male who dared to look her way. Though I wasn’t a ranked wolf, I came from Beta blood, and that gave me strength. The wolves around us submitted, looking away, some nodding in quiet acknowledgment. Humans felt it too, the subtle pressure, and most of them quickly turned their gaze. A few still sneaked glances.

"What are you doing?"

Laila leaned closer, her voice cutting through the pulsing music. My poor wolf's ears.

"Scaring the dogs away."

I grinned, feeling the rush of dominance. She raised an eyebrow, glanced around briefly, then waved me off with a dismissive gesture. She created some distance between us and resumed dancing. The song slowed, and her movements followed, sensual and deliberate. She caught my gaze, tilting her head with a small, teasing smirk playing on her lips. What now?

She moved toward me, stepping closer, so close her breath brushed my skin. The teasing smirk never left her lips. Her hips swayed with a hypnotic rhythm as she leaned in, her face just inches from mine. Her eyes locked with mine, and something shifted—this wasn’t just dancing anymore. There was a quiet intensity in the way she moved, drawing me in, making my pulse race.

Slowly, she went down, her body swaying with such grace, I nearly forgot how to breathe. Damn... Just. Damn. In my mind, fantasies flooded in—visions of her lips on my chest, s.ucking me, taking me all in, her touch sending shock waves through me. I tried to control my thoughts, but damn, she was killing me.

But in the real world, she was only going down to my belt. Still, the world around me seemed to blur as she moved with slow, deliberate seduction. Every inch of her was a tease, and I was utterly hooked. Her eyes never left mine.

She slowly stood again and leaned in close to my ear, her breath hot against my skin.

"That’s how you scare the dogs away."

She smirked and winked. My heart thundered in my chest. This woman—she was playing with fire, and I was burning. Was she flirting with me?

I grinned back, giddy inside. This was progress, and I couldn’t help but feel a sense of victory. Laila moved away, closing her eyes as she slipped back into her own rhythm, her body lost in the music. But I couldn’t forget what had just happened. Her gesture was bold, playful—so intimate without even touching me. I think this was the most intimate thing that a woman has ever done to me. I was hooked, no denying it now. I needed a distraction, something to take my mind off how much she was making me lose control. So, I swayed to the music, but it didn’t help. I was still lost in her.

The dance floor filled, the crowd growing thicker around us. But she kept her distance, dancing in the limited space, her hair damp and sticking to her face as she moved. The sight of her, so effortlessly graceful, drove me wild.

After a while, Laila leaned toward me.

"Let’s get something to drink. I’m thirsty."

"Sure. Come."

I seized the opportunity and took her hand, pulling her through the crowd. My broad shoulders made it easy to push through, but the sparks of her touch made everything else fade. I wanted to hold onto this moment for as long as I could. She didn’t resist, just followed me, and I couldn’t stop the grin spreading across my face.

We reached the bar.

"What do you want?"

"Just some cold water. With lemon, please."

"Sure."

I made eye contact with the bartender and ordered water for her and a beer for myself. I couldn’t get drunk being a werewolf, but I enjoyed the bitter, refreshing taste.

"I’m impressed with your dancing."

I smiled, watching her smile as she met my gaze.

"You’re not the first one."

She shot me a cheeky grin.

"Are you arrogant?"

I teased, remembering when she had asked me that same question at the charity ball. She threw her head back, laughing freely. My heart did a flip in my chest. I loved everything about her—her laugh, her confidence, the way she made me feel alive.

When she calmed down, she turned toward me with a playful grin.

"Didn’t you understand that from the beginning?"

She asked, her tone teasing with a “duh” underline in her voice.

"What do you mean?"

I asked, puzzled. I tried to remember our first interactions—when had she come across as arrogant? To me, she had always been a humble and sweet soul. I hadn’t picked up on any signs of her thinking she was better than others. She smiled, mischief twinkling in her eyes.

"The girl must be arrogant to be able to say no to a hot, rich hunk like you."

She winked at me. I chuckled, sipping my beer. So she thinks I'm a "hot hunk." Good. I smirked inwardly. And here she was, flirting with me again. I liked where this was heading. It seemed that dancing had loosened her up a bit—she was freer than usual. I liked it. This was great progress.

"So you think I'm a hot hunk, huh?"

I wanted to see how she’d react. Maybe I was hoping for a few more compliments from her lips.

"That’s all you heard?"

She raised an eyebrow.

"We both know you have enough self-esteem to evaluate yourself accurately. I was just stating facts."

My mate didn’t back down. She leaned her back against the bar, elbows resting on it, and surveyed the crowd. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Why should I? She was my gorgeous mate. If she catches me staring, so be it. I wasn’t hiding how I felt.

After a few minutes, she glanced at me, her eyes narrowing as though considering something. Then her face softened again, but she didn’t say a word.

"Shoot," I said with an amused smile, curious about what was going on in that head of hers.

"Are you a good observer?"

She asked, her voice low and teasing.

"I believe I am."

I replied confidently. Fighting and night patrols have sharpened my observation skills.

"Are you a quick learner?"

She pressed on.

"I think so, yes."

So far, I hadn't noticed otherwise. She smiled—mischief dancing in her eyes. Where was this conversation heading? I had no idea, but with her, you could never be too sure. Then, without warning, she placed her hands on my shoulders and turned me toward the crowd on the dance floor. She leaned closer, her cheek brushing near mine, though our skin didn’t quite touch. I could feel her warmth radiating off her, and her fresh scent—intoxicating, sweet— covered and engulfed me. I was drunk on it, my pulse quickening. And with her closeness, lustful thoughts surged through me. My body reacted immediately. Just. Damn. This was an endless cycle of torment.

"Do you see the couple in the corner?"

She pointed to the left. I tried to tear myself out of my lust-driven haze and glanced over. There was a couple dancing.

"Yes. Why?"

She smiled, the look on her face mischievous. Oh, here it comes.

"Observe. Learn. Let me know when you're ready to be that guy."

She gestured to the couple, her smile widening as her eyebrows shot up and down, emphasizing her point. I gave her a look—one that said, Are you for real?, but I didn’t voice it out loud. Alright, let’s see what we’ve got here.

I focused on the couple. The guy was a good dancer—fluid and smooth. He kept the girl close, and they moved together in a rhythm that seemed effortless. Salsa-like moves—he twirled her, spun her around, bending her with ease. She followed his movements flawlessly, every step a perfect match. It was a beautiful dance to watch.

My mom was determined to teach all of us classical dances. She didn’t want us to be an embarrassment at official pack balls. There, you had to know the waltz, rumba, salsa, and other dances. It was an old tradition, still going strong. I felt confident that I could pull off a freestyle. Besides, if my mate was challenging me, I was more than up for it. And what better way to hold her close to me, to feel the warmth of her small, soft frame against mine? The thought alone made me grin. I turned to her, still grinning.

"Okay. I think I’m ready."

She looked at me, a little surprised. It hadn’t even been five minutes.

"Okay."

She said it with a slight shrug, and placed one of her hands on my shoulder. Laila leaned in close to my ear, then pointed toward the corner on the right.

"Let’s go there. There’s more space."

"Sure."

I took her hand and led her to the spot she had pointed to. I turned to face her again, meeting her eyes, and slid my arm around her waist, pulling her close. Her body pressed into mine, sending a surge of heat through me. She placed one hand on my shoulder as I raised our joined hands, positioning them like we were about to waltz.

I loved this closeness already. Every inch of me seemed to spark with energy from where our skin touched. May the Moon Goddess help me control myself and not to devour her here on the dance floor, I silently prayed before starting to move with her.

"Lead me, and I’ll follow you. You can twirl and turn me as much as you want. Test my limits. I should be able to keep up."

She said it with that trademark smile of hers, fiery and full of confidence.

"Yes, Ma’am."

I returned her smile, my grin widening. And so, we danced. At first, I simply swayed with her, enjoying the warmth of her body against mine. Then I started to twirl and spin her. It was effortless, guiding her movements. She was light, fast, and flexible. No matter how quickly I twirled her, she spun smoothly, as though we had been dancing together for years. Of course, I didn’t use my super speed. I wasn’t an i***t. It was moments like these that made me smile—she had this natural way of keeping up, of getting lost in the dance with me.

I bent her frequently, loving the way she instinctively wrapped one leg around my waist each time. Of course, I used this moment to slide my hand from her hip down to her knee. I smirked in my head. I’m the devil in an angel’s skin, ain’t I? We danced like that for at least an hour. She often laughed, enjoying the rhythm of our movements, and I beamed every time I heard it.

But there were some things I didn’t do. Like when a slow and sexy song came up, I didn’t press her back to my chest, nor grinned my hips with her ass. I knew that such a move would cause me to have a b.oner, and she would feel it for sure. I was scared to chase her away.

We were making great progress, and though she hadn’t agreed to go on a date with me yet, this dance felt more intimate than any date I could imagine. Her soft body pressed against mine, our skin brushing lightly—it was already close to bliss. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what it would be like to hold her in my arms, kissing her, cuddling her, making love with her—just being close to her in every way. That must be mind-blowing - the thought made my heart race.

She leaned in, her breath warm against my ear.

"I’m thirsty. Are you?"

Her voice sent a thrill through me as she whispered the words.

"Let’s get drinks!"

I said, almost too eagerly, and pulled her through the crowd.