Warrior's human mate

Chapter 8

Laila

I was busy working on Monday. My Sunday passed quickly, as I slept in until noon. Though I tried to distract myself with cooking and housework, James kept popping into my thoughts. That nervous flutter in my stomach was there again, thinking about the upcoming lunch with him. It made me a little nauseous. Was it that ominous warning feeling again, or was it excitement? But why should I be excited? I wasn’t looking for anything with any guy. My intuition was telling me something, for sure.

As I typed on my laptop, I realized James would be here soon, so I started getting ready. I didn’t need much to prepare. I had dressed in the morning and wasn’t planning to change. I wore a navy blue dress that reached my knees — one of my typical work dresses. I only needed to add my coat, black ankle boots, and grab my gray bag. I didn’t need anything else, right? I searched my mind for anything I might have forgotten. I was nervous. f***k. This isn’t a date. Relax.

I tried to shake off the tension in my shoulders, my back, my mind. I breathed in, then out, several times. Slowly, I centered myself, focusing on my heart. I exhaled deeply. Better.

I grabbed my things and went downstairs. I waited on the street for him, as I didn’t want him to come up to my apartment and know exactly where I lived. I leaned against the stone wall of the outside staircase, trying to calm my thoughts.

I looked around aimlessly. I didn’t know what car he drove, but soon enough, one of those posh sports cars with two seats pulled up and parked in front of the house. James jumped out quickly, flashing a bright smile and waving for me to come to him. I frowned, something I noticed I did often around him. Normally, I’m relaxed and smiling, but with him… I always felt like I had to defend myself, like I needed to be extra careful not to be too nice.

"Is your d.ick really that small?" I murmured under my breath before I started walking toward his car. He frowned at me.

"Did you just say that?"

My eyes widened in surprise. Did he hear that? What kind of hearing does he have? I thought I barely whispered. Oh no! If I was a blushing person, I’d probably be bright red by now. Thankfully, no such thing happened. I quickly tried to regain my composure, adopting a neutral expression.

"You weren’t supposed to hear that."

I said, almost sounding accusatory, as if he was eavesdropping. I quickly slid into the car, and James followed suit. Let’s just pretend I hadn’t said anything, shall we? He gave me a smile that didn’t help my nerves.

"So, you’re interested in my d.ick?"

He stated it more than asked, his grin widening mischievously. My eyes went wide. Did he really just say that? Thankfully, I wasn’t the type to blush easily. I shook my head with a slight smile.

"I guess I brought this topic on myself, huh?"

I chuckled nervously, shaking my head, still trying to regain my composure.

"Care to explain your assumption about the size of my d.ick? That’s completely wrong, but..."

"I really don’t want to hear this."

I quickly interrupted him, trying to stop this conversation before it went any further.

"I’m sorry. I just tend to think guys with cars like this might be compensating... maybe for small d.icks that they have, or they have low self-esteem. But since you seem confident enough, I went with the first option."

I rushed to explain, avoiding eye contact and focusing on the road ahead. Why do I keep saying these things? I thought, inwardly cringing. My mouth usually didn’t get me into this much trouble.

"That’s a pretty judgmental thing to say, you know."

I could hear the amusement in his voice, which meant he was definitely teasing me.

"I know, I know. I’m sorry."

I quickly apologized, feeling embarrassed.

"Can we just drop this? Where are you taking me?"

I shifted the conversation, hoping to steer things in a safer direction.

"Alright, I’ll let it slide this time... But first..."

He reached behind my seat.

"This is for you."

He held up a dozen red roses. I froze, my breath caught in my chest.

James

I handed her the flowers with an unsure smile. She froze, visibly taken aback. She looked stunning in her dress. Her fresh scent seemed to fill the small space of my car, and I could almost drown in it. But I loved it.

“Why?”

She asked, furrowing her brows. f***k.

“I said this isn’t a date. I can’t accept them.”

She shook her head, her eyes wide. A string of curses ran through my mind. I knew it. I knew bringing her flowers was a bad idea.

“I...”

Think, damn it!

“Flowers are good for the qi energy. It’s for your house. You just moved in! You need a positive environment in your place. You’re an interior designer. You should know this.”

I almost sighed in relief at my own brilliance for recalling something I’d read once. Her gaze narrowed at me with suspicion.

“Oookay.”

She reluctantly reached for the flowers.

“Thank you!”

She said with a tight smile, though her voice was soft. Phew. I managed to slip through that one. Okay, let’s get to the restaurant, I thought as I roared my car to life.

The drive to the restaurant was quiet. I noticed her smelling the flowers twice. Yes! She likes them. I recalled what she said when I first arrived. I couldn’t help but chuckle inwardly. I still couldn’t believe she’d said that. Her thought process was... interesting. Definitely weird, but maybe I could use it to my advantage somehow.

I took her to a place called Watercourse—great American cuisine. I had initially thought about picking somewhere I thought she’d enjoy, but then I decided to take her somewhere she could try something new from our cuisine. The interior was simple, wooden tables and chairs, but the food was excellent. The waitress led us to our table, a small one next to the window in the furthest corner. I was already flipping through the menu when I spoke.

“They have great chicken legs here.”

She glanced up at me.

“Okay, let’s get to know each other.”

Laila smiled a little, and I paused.

“My name is Laila, and I’m a vegetarian.”

She said it with a small, innocent smile, but my eyes went wide. I was... shocked.

“But...”

I gaped like a fish.

“I like... meat.”

The Moon Goddess gave me a mate who’s a vegetarian? Unheard of, right?

“Jeez, I don’t judge. Please, eat meat. I’m not one of those fanatics who thinks meat-eaters are demons or something. Just don’t try to tell me that I need meat because ‘how will I get iron in my system otherwise?’”

She mimicked in a higher-pitched voice, clearly teasing me.

“Sure. I’m not judging you either. I was just... surprised.”

I said slowly, trying to digest the new information. She shrugged casually. Here I was, sitting with my mate, and I still didn’t know much about her.

“How long have you been a vegetarian?”

I asked, genuinely curious.

“Long. Eight years now.”

She answered, and I relaxed slightly. At least she hadn’t been one since childhood.

“Why did you become one?”

I pressed, eager to know more. She tilted her head, considering the question.

“Well, it was for spiritual reasons. Then, I watched this terrible documentary about the meat industry. It was called Earthlings. It was enough to motivate me. If you like scary movies, you could watch it instead. The screams of the animals will keep you up for weeks.”

She added with a taunting look. I scrunched my nose. That didn’t sound like a fun night at all.

“Do you... ever miss eating meat?”

I asked cautiously. She scrunched her nose at the thought.

“No. I used to like meat, but my taste buds have changed a lot over the years.”

She shrugged again, and I found myself nodding, processing her words. So much for that fantasy of coming home to her serving steak.

“Hmm...”

I hummed, lost in thought. As a teenager, I’d imagined countless scenarios with my mate—like her serving dinner with tons of different meat dishes. Now, that image was a little... hard to digest.

“Chill. Like I said, I’m not going to convert you into a vegetarian.”

She chuckled, breaking my train of thought. I realized I was frowning and straightened up.

“I took you to a meat place...”

I muttered under my breath. i***t.

“Do you see anything on the menu you can eat? Or should we head somewhere else?”

I felt a wave of frustration roll over me. Great choice for dinner, James.

“There should be something I can eat. Don’t worry.”

She waved me off, smiling as if it was no big deal. We ordered. She went for the classic mac and cheese—thankfully, they had it. I went with the chicken wings. My thoughts wandered again. I was still puzzled by why the Moon Goddess had paired me with her. I didn’t understand it, but I wanted to get to know her better.

“Let’s play twenty-one questions?”

I suggested. She frowned.

“What’s that?”

She asked, clearly unfamiliar with the idea.

“You ask twenty-one questions to each other, and vice versa.”

I quickly explained.

“The same questions?”

She asked, clarifying.

“It can be the same or different, it’s up to you.”

I replied.

“Okay. Got it. Shoot.”

She encouraged me, ready for the game.

“What’s your favorite color?”

I asked, expecting the usual answer. Laila scrunched her nose in clear distaste.

“Are all those questions just ‘favorite’ something?”

She frowned, clearly unimpressed.

“Pretty much, yeah.”

I shrugged, but she scrunched her nose even more.

“Those are questions for... teenagers. Sounds so...”

She shook her head in disapproval. Seriously?

“I don’t have favorites. I like a lot of things—colors, food, music, movies... You name it. At some point, you become a slave to your favorites, and you can’t enjoy life as it comes. So, I don’t do favorites.”

She explained herself with a bit of a shrug. I hummed in response, processing her words.

“Anyway, you’re an adult. I’m an adult. Let me ask you twenty-one adult questions.”

She said with an exaggerated voice, pointing between the two of us. I chuckled.

“Okay, adult. Shoot.”

I grinned c.ockily, ready for the next round.

She shook her head, clearly processing what I had said.

"Have you ever had a real conversation with a girl? Or was it just... physical?"

Her voice was curious, but she furrowed her eyebrows. I paused, thinking about how to answer her. Honestly, for the past few years, most of my relationships were fleeting. A few sweet lines, and things would move quickly. Most of the time, the girls would leave before the morning, and I didn’t want anyone in my family to meet them. But now, hearing her ask, it made me reflect on it.

"Of course, I converse, I have two sisters, after all,"

I replied with a half-grin, trying to deflect. She gave me a pointed look.

"Yeah, but you don’t talk with your sisters to get them into your bed. "

She said irritated, raising an eyebrow. I could not confess to my mate and tell her about other women. She would hate me, right? I just shrugged instead.

"It’s hard for me to wrap my head around this. So you’ve never had a proper relationship?"

She asked, frowning slightly. I didn’t want her to think the worst of me, but how could I explain something like "waiting for my mate"?

"What is a 'proper' relationship?"

I responded, trying to lighten the conversation.

"A relationship that lasts at least six months," she answered quickly. I shrugged, unsure of how to explain what I had been going through.

"When I was younger, I dated a couple of girls. But I always had this feeling that there was someone special out there. I just waited, hoping she’d show up. Over time, I started to think that maybe she didn’t exist. So, I stopped looking for anything serious. For a long time, I just... satisfied my own needs."

Saying it out loud made me feel uneasy. I felt a little ashamed of the choices I had made. If I had known I’d find her, I would have done things differently.

"But recently, I met someone special."

I smiled at her, my mate sitting right across from me. Her eyes lit up at the mention of "someone special."

"Oh really? Was she at the charity ball?"

She asked, intrigued.

"Yes, she was."

Her face softened for a moment, and then she looked a little uneasy.

"Oh no... your parents made you spend time with me instead of her. I’m sorry if that was awkward for her."

She looked genuinely concerned, and I didn’t want her to feel bad.

"Actually, I did spend time with her that night."

I tried to reassure her. She looked at me, still puzzled, and I continued.

"Why did you ask me on a date then? What kind of games are you playing, Mr.Playboy?", she shook her pointer finger at me. I’m Mr.Playboy?

"Well, I consider myself a gentleman. I ought to ask my special girl out."

I stated while she looked puzzled at me.

"What?" She frowned. Should I say it?

"The special girl... she’s sitting right here."

I said, my tone serious as I gazed in her blue eyes. Her face froze, processing my words. It took a moment for her to realize what I meant, and I couldn’t help but admire the way her mind worked.

"You i.diot!"

She tossed a piece of bread at me, looking both frustrated and amused. I dodged it, but I couldn’t help but laugh softly. She was so unpredictable, and that was part of what I found so intriguing about her.

"Here I was listening to your story and thinking – oh, heartbroken James, after so many years, he found a girl of his dreams. That even sounded romantic!"

She exclaimed loudly.

- I thought that maybe at last the f.ucked-up womanizer would have real relationships. The girl would fill the big hole in his chest. So he will change his ways and will be a faithful husband and father. Until…

She trailed off, shaking her head, clearly frustrated.

"I’m not a ‘f*ked up womanizer’,’" I tried to defended myself. She gave me a look that told me she wasn’t convinced.

"Really? Well, let’s see, then," she said with a raised eyebrow, her tone challenging.

"So, these girls who helped you to satisfy your needs... was it just a once-in-a-while thing? Or more like every week?"

She asked with frowning lips, almost as though she were conducting an interrogation. Those lips spit fire at me every time she had a chance. But I just wanted to kiss them, even worship them. Was that something too much to ask? I felt a little uncomfortable with her line of questioning, but I couldn’t avoid it now.

"Once a week."

I replied, feeling a knot in my stomach.

"Okay, did you ever see the same girl again?"

She asked, pressing further. I clenched my jaw, unwilling to lie.

"No."

I said, trying to stay calm.

"Alright, let’s do some quick math."

She said, with an annoying fake excitement.

"There are fifty-two weeks in a year. Let’s say you saw fifty different girls a year. That’s at least two hundred girls in four years."

She frowned, clearly processing the numbers. I winced internally, knowing that it had been even worse. Some weeks, I’d see more than one girl. And sometimes, it was multiple girls at the same time. f***k.

"Jesus, James!"

She said, her eyes wide in shock.

"That’s way too many. I can’t even wrap my head around the real number in total."

She shook her head, visibly disturbed.

"Are you even healthy?"

She asked, looking concerned. I could feel my stomach drop. I didn’t want her to think the worst of me. She will never want to be my girl now, will she?

"Yes, I’m healthy."

I answered quietly. Thanks to my werewolf genetics, I was fortunate in that regard, but I could tell she wasn’t fully convinced.

"Lucky you! I wouldn’t be surprised if you spent all your luck just staying healthy."

I gritted my teeth. Thanks to my werewolf genetics, I was healthy. But why did I get the feeling that I was doomed? She shook her head.

"Your mouth is too smooth for your own good."

She wagged a finger at me.

"No, scratch that. For the good of the girls. Now I feel sorry for the girls who fall under your radar."

She sighed, shaking her head, her gaze dropping to the table. I smiled bitterly at her.

"So, you pity yourself?"

I smirked, my tone teasing. Her head snapped up, her eyes flashing.

"Sush!"

She waved her hand dismissively, a look of mock exasperation on her face. At that moment, the waitress brought our food, providing a welcome distraction. We both started eating, and for a moment, the tension seemed to ease.

"Change of subject. Here comes that adult question."

Laila furrowed her brows, intrigued.

"What gives meaning to your life?"

She asked seriously, and for a split second, the answer came to me—you. Finding my mate has given my life new meaning. But I couldn’t say that to her. She wouldn’t believe it, would she?

"That’s a deep question."

I looked into her eyes, trying to deflect, unsure of how to answer.

"After that calculation I just made, that’s exactly what I want to find out. Is there any depth in you? Or is it just immature teenage stuff?"

She said, giving me a pointed look. It felt like someone had just poured a bucket of b.ullsh.it over me. Her words stung a lot. No one had ever called me out like this—not like she was doing in just a few minutes. Her ability to cut through my bravado with a single sentence was almost unsettling.

"Is that what you think of me?"

I furrowed my brows, genuinely surprised.

"I’m looking forward to you proving me wrong."

Her voice was cool, almost playful.

"I vaguely remember you telling me that a few days ago. I haven’t completely formed an opinion about you yet, so... do impress me!"

The way she said it, with that exaggerated smile, made me feel like I was some sort of joke. And it bothered me more than I wanted to admit. For the first time, I felt lame in front of a girl. I had always been the confident one—the c.ocky, charming guy that girls fawned over. But Laila? She’d boxed me in within minutes.

"My family and my relatives give my life meaning."

I started to answer her question seriously, my voice steady.

"As well as my… community."

I almost said "pack."

"My work and my... boss."

I wanted to say "Alpha."

"And my inner spirit."

I wanted to say "my wolf."

"The biggest thing is having my... soulmate with me."

I almost said, "having you."

"Hmm..."

She hummed thoughtfully, her eyes briefly drifting to the side as she processed my answer.

"So, basically, people close to you give the biggest meaning in your life."

She summarized, something softer in her gaze.

"Yes, you could say that. What about you? What gives meaning to your life?"

I asked, curious to hear her answer. I imagined it would be something noble. She paused for a moment, her expression thoughtful as she spoke.

"It’s the little things. But I suppose the biggest thing is witnessing kindness and spreading it. If my smile can brighten a stranger's day, then that day is worth living. Maybe, one day, I’ll touch someone’s heart in a way that prevents them from following through on thoughts they might have had, like taking their life. That would mean something. With my friends and acquaintances, if I can make a positive impact, that’s what counts. It might sound arrogant, but I hope to be that little nudge in someone's life—significant enough to help them change. Though, most people end up crediting themselves and never really acknowledge the people who helped them get there. But when I look back at my life, there have definitely been people who had a major impact on me, and I’m really grateful for them."

Her words were sincere, and I didn’t find them arrogant at all. In fact, they felt genuinely noble... and meaningful.

"Okay, next question. Do you still have grandparents?"

It was quite a shift in the conversation, but I smiled at her curiosity.

"Yes, I do. My mom’s side."

"Do you see them often?"

She continued asking, not missing a beat as she took a bite of her food.

"Yes, they live in our neighborhood. When I was younger, I spent more time at their place than at my own home. But now, I don’t visit them as much."

I got lost in those memories for a second, thinking of my grandmother’s pies and the chocolate cookies she used to bake just for me. I should visit them again soon.

"What about you?"

I asked, returning the question.

"I only have one grandma left. She’s about 90 years old."

She smiled widely as she spoke.

"And she’s hilarious! Well, at least, I think so. She’s a grumpy lady. Most of the time, she just sits at home and insults everyone around her—us, our relatives, people on TV, or even strangers who pass by the window. But she does it in such a funny way. She uses these old-fashioned words and comes up with the funniest phrases!"

She laughed out loud, and the sound was like music to my ears. I couldn’t help but smile at her. She was so full of life.

"I could sit all day just listening to her, like watching a comedy show, while munching on popcorn! Like, once she said: 'Oh, that old farter is going somewhere again! He’s shaking so much, I’m getting sea-sick just watching him!'"

She burst into laughter again. I couldn’t help but chuckle along with her. The way her face lit up, how her smile made everything else fade away—she was so under my skin already. She sighed happily afterwards.

“Okay. Next question. What did you study at university?” she asked while chewing.

“I didn’t go to university. From the age of 13, I wanted to be a... soldier.”

How do I explain a pack warrior to her?

“So I trained and became exactly that,” I said.

Her eyes went wide.

“You’re a soldier?!” she asked in disbelief.

“Kinda. I guard a specific territory. I can also be a bodyguard if assigned. And I fight with... trespassers if they occur.”

How do I explain rogues to her?

“Fight?”

She re-asked, leaning closer to me.

“Have you... ever... killed someone?” she asked, almost in a whisper.

The disbelief still lingered on her face. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to confess this today, but I couldn’t lie to her.

“Yes, I have.”

I replied seriously. Her eyes went wide.

“I’ve never met anyone who has killed another human being. That is scary sh*t! Shouldn’t you just disarm them and send them to prison?”

She continued questioning, clearly intrigued.

“Well, maybe we could. But if the other side is determined to fight to the death, then death it is,” I said honestly.

She was still in shock, but I couldn’t soften the truth about this part of my life.

“So you live your life on the edge, huh? Any day you could die,” she said, her voice still filled with concern.

Was she worried about my well-being? The thought warmed my heart.

“Nah, I’m too good for that. I’m one of the best fighters,” I said, flashing a c.ocky grin.

I’m the best in our pack, but there are other packs, so I’ll stay humble. She looked me in the eyes and did a once-over.

“Now I understand why you’re so ripped. So, do you train a lot?”

She continued to ask questions with curiosity.

“Yes, at least eight hours a day,” I replied. I loved talking about my training and work. Her eyes bulged out.

“Wow, that’s a lot! When do you manage to do the other duties?”

I shrugged.

“In between. The first training starts at 6 a.m.”

Her eyes went wide again, making me chuckle. She looked so cute with those surprised expressions. I guess I loved surprising her. She acted as though she knew everything about me, but it wasn’t true. I bet I’m the first “soldier” she’s ever met. That thought made me feel good.

“Sh*t! That’s early,” she said, slowly shaking her head with a faraway look in her eyes.

I guess she was trying to wrap her head around me, my job, and my daily routine.

“Okay. My turn. Did you go to university?”

She looked me in the eyes again.

“Of course! Now that I think about it, out of my 800+ acquaintances, I know maybe 15 who didn’t continue their studies after high school. Okay, at least 20 people dropped out, but still...”

That sounded impressive. But those were human lives. We lived differently in packs.

“So then I’m the sixteenth person,” I said with a smile.

“Yes,” she smiled back. I loved when she smiled at me. Such a small thing, but I burned that moment into my heart.

“What did you study?”

I kept questioning her. I wanted to know every single detail about her, her past, present, and future.

“I studied interior design for four years in my bachelor’s and two years of graphic design in my master’s studies,” she replied.

“Cool. You even have a master’s,” I said, impressed.

She shrugged.

“I was thinking about doing a doctorate, but I postponed it for the time being. I want to gain more work experience.”

Her ambitions sounded even more impressive.

“Wow! You still think to do it?” I asked.

“Yes,” Laila replied nonchalantly.

“Sounds impressive,” I said truthfully.

“Meh,” she shrugged.

“Nothing special. At least not in my country,” Laila added.

“Does everyone have a doctor’s degree there?” I arched an eyebrow. That sounded impossible.

“No, of course not. But many of my peers do, so...”

She shrugged.

“Though we do have more female doctors than males. We’re the only ones in Europe with such statistics.”

She said with a proud smile.

“Oh,” I bobbed my head in approval.

“Sh*t. What time is it?”

She asked, grabbing her purse and looking inside. I looked at my wristwatch.

“It’s 2:30 p.m.,” I replied quickly.

She froze and looked at me wide-eyed.

“It’s late! I need to work. Can you drop me at my house again?”

She asked, worried.

“Of course, I will! Don’t worry.”

She started looking around. I guess she was searching for the waitress. I stood up.

“Don’t worry. I’ll pay at the counter, and we can leave.”

I told her calmly.

“Wait, I’ll give you money,” she said, starting to go through her purse.

“No, you’re a guest in this country. It’s on me,” I said seriously.

She looked at me again.

“But...”

I didn’t want to hear another “this is not a date” bulls*t, so I cut her off.

“Stop arguing with me.”

I said sternly. And for the first time, she listened to me. I was surprised. She fought with me at every chance she got. I paid, and we left. We didn’t speak on the drive back because she was busily typing on her phone.

“I’m sorry. I have to work,” she apologized and kept typing something on her phone.

“It’s okay. I understand. No need to apologize.”

Somehow, I liked that she was sorry. It meant she cared. She wasn’t the cold-hearted b.itch she’d acted like on Saturday. She was truly a sweet girl.

As we approached her building, I mustered my courage.

“So, how about lunch tomorrow as well?”

I asked as I parked the car. She looked at me with slightly wide eyes. Her body went still, as if pausing to think about what to do.

“Okay.”

Laila breathed out. I smiled widely. Yes! Another victory.

“Great! See you tomorrow at the same time.”

I flashed her my pearly smile. After today’s lunch, I felt that we had started to make progress.

She stepped out of the car and then looked back inside.

“Thanks! See you tomorrow.”

I watched as she ran up the stairs. I sighed. Such a wonderful sight…