Warrior's human mate

Chapter 5

Laila

My week passed in a blur. I met with Mrs. Montgomery on Wednesday. Thankfully, Mr. Playboy wasn’t there. That can only mean one thing—he’s already forgotten about me. And honestly, that’s a relief. But then again, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment when he didn’t show. He had said he’d be there, and part of me had been scanning the room, hoping he’d walk in at any moment. But he didn’t. And I quickly pushed the thought aside. I didn’t need that kind of distraction. I was here to focus on my work. Besides, I had been right all along—he would forget about me by the next day. Still, a small flutter in my chest lingered, almost like a warning. My instincts told me to stay as far away from him as possible, so maybe it was for the best that he didn’t appear.

The meeting went smoothly, and by the end of it, Mrs. Montgomery had invited me to her charity ball on Saturday. She explained that she usually hosts it in December, but this year, she wanted to get it done before her house was turned upside down. I didn’t have any other plans, so I agreed to attend.

Now here I was, dressed in a long, flowing red maxi dress that cascaded all the way to my heels. The dress had long, sheer sleeves that added a touch of elegance. I paired it with black heels and a simple black clutch. My hair fell freely around my shoulders, and I’d chosen a bold red lipstick to complement the smoky eyeshadow. I looked decent, at least that was the goal. I did put this dress in my suitcase just in case, and it turned out to be a smart move. I wasn’t planning on making an impression or compete for attention—just didn’t want to look out of place, more like blend in.

As I walked into the venue, a place I’d become all too familiar with, it still felt I live here. More than usual, I noticed the sense of comfort the house brought me. Maybe it was because of the warmth I felt every time I stepped inside, a warmth I hadn’t realized I needed. I smiled at the thought, then made my way slowly down the hall, taking in the faces around me.

I noticed a girl glance in my direction. She sniffed the air, then scrunched her nose in disgust. Excuse me? My heart skipped. Was my perfume too much? Was I overwhelming her? I thought I’d chosen something subtle, something neutral. I only sprayed a little, after all. Suddenly, I had the overwhelming urge to check myself. Did I smell? Had I somehow sweated on the way here? But I didn’t stop to check. I kept moving, though now I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched. The crowd seemed familiar with one another, and I, of course, was the odd one out.

Well, that wasn’t new. I thought as I kept walking.

James

I could smell her the moment she entered my house. I didn’t even need to see her. Her intoxicating scent flooded the air, reaching me in an instant. Alpha had given me an urgent task on Wednesday, so I hadn’t seen her then. But this week without her felt like pure torture. I thought waiting for my mate was the worst thing I could endure, but now, not having her by my side every day—it was unbearable.

As her scent grew stronger, I scanned the crowd and quickly spotted her blonde head. She was moving through the pack, observing everyone. I couldn’t stand the idea of anyone making a move on her—she was fresh meat in our pack, and I needed to be close. I made my way toward her. Her dress was perfect. She carried herself with such natural grace, and the red dress only emphasized her beauty. She looked like an angel floating through the crowd… well, if angels wore red. The red lipstick that accentuated her full lips made my d**k twitch. Damn it, I couldn’t let myself get distracted this early in the evening. This was an important event for my mother, and I had to stay composed.

I reached her in a few long strides.

"Laila! You came!" I greeted her, smiling brightly hearing her heartbeat faster than last time when she met my mom. The urge to hug her was almost overwhelming, but I kept my hands at my sides to avoid doing something stupid. She returned my smile, but it was tight—like something was holding her back. My heart sank.

"Yes, of course. I promised Mrs. Montgomery I’d be here." Her words were polite, but there was a coolness to them.

"Great! I’m happy to see you!" I said, trying to keep my tone upbeat. But my mind raced—why was she so distant?

"Would you like something to drink?" I asked, eager to do something for her.

"Umm, sure. Where’s the bar?" she replied, her tone polite but distant.

"I’ll bring you what you want," I offered, wanting to make her feel comfortable, to have her depend on me. Was that weird? Maybe. She definitely came off as fiercely independent. And I couldn't help but wonder why that was, where it came from.

"Oh, no need to bother! You’ve got a full house of guests to attend to. Just point me in the right direction." She brushed me off, her independence clear—it seemed like she didn’t want to be a burden. I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to that.

"No," I said firmly, flashing her a bright smile, "You’re the most important guest here." She squinted at me, skeptical, and I rushed to reassure her. "Follow me. The bar is this way."

I guided her through the crowd, the joy of simply walking beside her filling me. It wasn’t a grand gesture, but having my mate next to me, feeling the weight of her presence, was enough to ease the tension I’d carried all week. My wolf finally relaxed.

"What would you like to drink?" I asked. "Champagne? Wine? Something stronger?"

She looked at me with an amused smile, as if I was joking. But then her answer took me by surprise.

"No. An orange juice, please."

I raised an eyebrow. Did she drive here? Maybe. I ordered her drink and handed it to her. She took it with a polite nod.

"Thank you," she said, her smile still tight, like she was holding herself back. That smile—why did it feel so distant? Was this just how she was, or was I the cause of it?

I watched her start to walk away, heading in the opposite direction. Was she leaving me? I followed her instinctively, my steps trailing behind her. I was so distracted by her that I forgot to order a drink for myself, but that didn’t matter. Not now. She was my focus.

She moved closer to one of the walls, scanning the room. I stood beside her, uncertain of what to say next. Her tight smile and furrowed brows—something about it triggered something in me, but I didn’t know what. All week, I’d daydreamed about this moment. I had so many questions, so many things I wanted to ask. But now? My mind went completely blank. What had happened to the ease I’d imagined between us?

I waited for her to speak, but all I could hear was the buzzing in my chest, the impatience of my wolf, both of us desperate for the connection we were meant to have.

“How are you?” I asked, trying to break the tension. Maybe a bit of small talk could help us move forward, make things feel a little less awkward. A tiny smile twitched at the corner of her lips, but it was fleeting.

“I’m okay,” she replied, her answer short and to the point.

She didn’t seem interested in keeping the conversation going. It was like I was talking to a wall. My heart sank a little. What was I doing wrong? Why wasn’t she opening up? But I couldn't just walk away now. I couldn’t give up on this.

“Have you… Have you settled into your new place already?” I asked, the concern slipping out before I could stop it. I wanted to know if she was okay. If she was living somewhere safe, somewhere she felt comfortable. I should probably check it out soon. Find out where she lives.

“More or less, yes, I have,” she replied with a simple nod, her face still neutral, almost unreadable. Should I ask for her address now? No, I’d have to wait for that one.

“Is the neighborhood good?” I pressed, needing to know.

“I… hope so. I haven’t experienced any bad encounters so far,” she said with a shrug. Well, that was at least some relief.

“Have you explored around?” I asked, trying to keep the conversation alive. This wasn’t easy. Talking to her was like trying to dig through stone with my bare hands. This wasn’t how I was used to things going. Usually, it was a couple of smiles, a drink, and things moved quickly from there.

“Not much yet, but I know the basics I need,” she responded shortly. She wasn’t offering much, but at least she hadn’t shut me down completely.

“Do you need help with anything? Settling in?” I offered again, hoping for a response. I felt like I was pulling teeth, just trying to get her to open up even a little.

“No. Thank you. I’m good,” she answered, shaking her head, her brows furrowing as she thought for a moment.

This was harder than I expected. She was shutting me out, and I didn’t know how to break through. I had never had to work this hard to get a conversation going with a woman before.

“Do you… Have you…” I started to ask something else, but my mind went blank. She glanced at me, amusement dancing in her bright blue eyes.

“James, you don’t have to make small talk with me. You’ve got plenty of guests to attend to. I’m fine on my own,” she said, her tone polite but distant. Formal.

It stung more than I expected. I hated the formality in her voice, even though I loved the sound of it. Was I losing my mind here? Was I really starting to get frustrated with her polite responses?

“No, I know everyone here, but you,” I said, trying to sound casual, but my words felt too rushed. “Besides, you’re the most important guest here.”

She squinted her eyes at me, and I could almost hear the unspoken “Are you shitting me?” echoing in her gaze. And yet, I could also tell that her displeasure was clear. It was written all over her. How the hell could I read her so easily? Maybe it was the mate bond.

“For me,” I added with a bright smile, hoping to soften the blow.

She glared at me, her eyes narrowing. f***k, this was going well. I compliment her, and she just looks at me like I’m a joke. What the hell? Since when did women act like this? I was used to girls smiling, giggling, hanging on every word I said. But not her. She was the complete opposite. It was like she didn’t want anything to do with me—maybe not even me standing next to her.

At this point, my heart felt like it had sunk straight to the pit of my stomach. Even my wolf was upset, pacing inside me. He blamed me for this. I could feel his frustration, like he was already throwing me under the bus. He thought I was being an i.diot. Great. Just what I needed.

“Oh, thanks for the support, buddy,” I muttered to myself. My wolf suggested I should just bring her to our room, mark her, and make sure no one else had a chance with her. It wasn’t a terrible idea, but how well did he think that would go, huh? I could already hear her shouting at me in my mind.

Still, despite how rough things felt, I wanted to know more. So much more about her. She was my mate, and yet I couldn’t even get a decent conversation out of her. This wasn’t how I imagined this going.

"Can I ask you something more personal?" I ventured, my voice softer this time, hoping for some kind of breakthrough.

She met my gaze again, her eyes thoughtful, a small smile playing at the corner of her lips, like she was trying to decide whether to indulge me or shut me down.

"Even if I said 'no,' would that stop you?" she asked, her tone laced with amusement.

I chuckled at her quick wit. She could see right through me, and it only made me more intrigued.

"No, it wouldn’t," I replied with a grin, unable to help myself.

"I thought so!" she said, her eyebrows lifting in that playful way. Then, without missing a beat, she turned her attention back to the crowd, leaving me standing there. I wasn’t getting anywhere.

"How old are you?" I asked, hoping this time, I might get something more from her.

Her eyes flicked back to me, that small smile still tugging at her lips, and for a moment, I forgot to breathe. Even in the simplest expression, she was stunning.

"I'm twenty-eight. You?" she asked, her voice light, almost teasing.

Yes. A small victory. She was finally participating, giving me a little piece of herself.

"I’m 30," I replied, keeping my tone casual, though my heart was racing.

She nodded, then looked around the room again, her attention slipping away from me like sand through my fingers. I was still getting nowhere.

"Not very chatty, I see..." I muttered, more to myself than her, frustration creeping in.

"No. I’m very chatty and easygoing," she answered, that amused smile still there, but her eyes never really met mine. Her gaze scanned the crowd once more. She didn’t elaborate.

What did that mean? Was she this reserved only with me? Was I really that unappealing? Was the bond between us even there for her? Why didn’t she feel it?

The thought of it made my chest tighten. I had never struggled to hold someone’s attention like this before. My mind raced with questions, most of them left unanswered. She wasn’t giving me anything. Anything real, at least.

"Where is it?" I thought, desperate. "Where is the mate bond? Why don’t you feel it?"

I had to stop myself from spiraling. But the ache in my gut wasn’t going away. Neither was the feeling of being… invisible.

Laila

I’m smiling inwardly, wondering why James has been so persistent in trying to chat with me. Many girls keep glancing at him now and then. He could easily go to any of them. I keep hinting that I’m not interested, that I’d rather not have this conversation, but he doesn’t take the hint. It’s not easy, though. He’s persistent, and his presence has a way of making me feel… funky?

He looks incredibly appealing in that dark blue tuxedo, his hair styled just right, the gel giving it that effortless "I’m too cool to care" look. Something tugs at my heart. Maybe I wish circumstances were different. Maybe I could have a fling with him. But, no—what am I thinking? That doesn't matter… right?

I usually pride myself on being kind and open to conversation, but this guy… this hot, rich stranger is making me feel… uneasy. I can’t even put a name to the feeling. Maybe edgy? Yes, something like that. But I can’t decide if it’s a good or bad kind of edginess. So, I try to keep my distance, remain calm, and not let him get too close. My guard is up, and I’m not making this easy for him at all.

One of his comments was so cheesy, I couldn’t help but cringe. If you asked me, it was way over the top.

At the same time, I can’t deny that there’s a part of me that feels flattered. Instead of chasing after all the other women in the room, he’s focusing his attention on me. But then he mentioned that he knows everyone here, and suddenly, a thought strikes me. Could he…? Has he dated…?

I blinked, my mind racing. Wait. Could it be that he’s been with every girl here? Is that why he’s spending time with me—because I’m just another name on a long list? A fresh piece of meat?

I glance around the room, and I quickly stop myself from counting the girls in attendance. Some are married, others have boyfriends, and a few are older. But the majority… My stomach twisted, a wave of nausea flooding me. No. I don’t know, and I don’t want to know.

Since he stood next to me, my skin has been on overdrive, goosebumps prickling every inch. How is that even possible from just his presence? That can’t be a good sign, right? Definitely bad news.

I need to get rid of him.

“Did your mom tell you to babysit me or something?” I ask, hoping to break the tension.

He shrugs, flashing that bright smile. Hmm, what a lovely sight, I smiled inwardly. It’s enough to stop me in my tracks. Ugh, seriously, get it together, I tell myself.

“Don’t worry about me,” I continue. “I’m used to being alone in a crowd of strangers. I don’t feel lonely. I can entertain myself.”

I gesture toward the other guests. “I like to observe, so don’t feel obligated to stick with me. You’ve probably got a million things to do as the lovely host, don’t you?”

This is the most I’ve said to him tonight. I almost chuckle at myself. Poor guy.

As I mentioned earlier, I usually have a chatty and easy-going personality, but with him tonight, I’m all politeness and short replies.

"Like which guests?" he asked, probably rhetorically.

But I knew. I could already see the way the girls kept glancing in his direction. I’d noticed it before.

"Well, for starters," I said, casually scanning the room, "I can see... five girls practically undressing you with their eyes."

I scratched my nose as I said it, trying to seem indifferent.

"Rather gross," I added under my breath.

I would never understand why some girls acted so pathetic around a handsome guy. They fawned over him, practically throwing themselves at his feet. Didn’t they have any self-respect? Why couldn’t they just let the guy come to them? And if he did, why not make him work for it? Create a little struggle. Push him away a bit. Make him sweat to see if he would stick around longer than a couple of hours.

They seemed to think that after one night, the guy would be so captivated that he’d become obsessed and never let them go. Ridiculous. That only happens in cheesy romance novels. I’m not a guy, but even I understood the principle: easy come, easy go. But whatever—it’s not my life.

Still, if he really was the player I suspected, he should be chasing after one of them, not wasting time on me. I was the wrong choice for him.

I glanced at him and offered a small smile. Silly guy.

"Are you jealous?" he asked with a smirk.

My face fell into a frown, annoyance creeping up.

"Are you arrogant?"

I shot back, my voice sharp with irritation, my expression matching. The amused smile that had lingered earlier disappeared in an instant. He was getting ahead of himself, thinking he had me figured out. Arrogance was one of the things I hated most in people. And, of course, this rich, handsome guy seemed to think all the girls were falling over him. Well, newsflash—I'm not one of them. I’d rather die than let him know the slightest bit of attraction.

I had to keep pushing him away. It was time to strike his ego, hard. That’s the surefire way to scare guys off, right? I might be assuming the wrong things, but let’s see, maybe I hit spot on.

"Have you ever thought that maybe girls are using you?"

I said it with a bite in my tone. He frowned in response.

"What do you mean?"

His confusion was almost amusing.

"Well, that you’re nothing more than a good time? No other reason for a girl to stick around longer than one night?"

His jaw dropped for a moment before he quickly closed it, clenching his teeth. He was processing what I said, and I could see it—it was anger, frustration, and something else. Pain. Good. Maybe now he’ll back off.

I felt a twinge of guilt, of course. I’m usually a nice person. I don’t like hurting people. But this guy was really pushing my buttons. Some people just get under my skin, and I could fight them until blood. Figuratively speaking, of course. I rarely have to, but with him—his arrogance—it was almost too much.

"You think I’m stupid or something?"

He asked, a frown deepening on his face.

"Well, you don’t need to be a genius to figure that out,"

I retorted, my eyebrows raised in challenge.

"You don’t know me!"

His voice was tinged with frustration now, the tension clear.

"And I don’t want to!"

I snapped back, annoyance creeping into my tone. I could see the pain in his eyes, though, and for a second, I faltered. But then he clenched his jaw again. Maybe I should’ve been kinder. He was partially my client, after all. I inwardly sighed. Great. My bratty mouth always gets me in trouble.

"I’ll prove you wrong!"

He said, determination heavy in his voice.

Why? Why is he ignoring everything I’ve said? Why isn’t he leaving me alone? Why isn’t he off chasing another girl? Did I send any signal that I was interested? No. I was extremely careful not to do so. I was polite but distant. I didn’t even give him a proper smile. I avoided him. What is this guy’s deal? Even now, after I hit his ego hard, he’s still persistent about… What exactly? Talking to me? Or hitting on me?

"Oh, James, please, I’m begging you to prove me wrong."

I mocked him sarcastically, though in my mind, I was begging him to just leave me alone. I turned away from him and took a sip of my drink.

An awkward silence stretched between us. His presence made the hair on my body stand on end. What the hell? What was with these strange body reactions? I didn’t even know how to interpret these signals.

"I don’t see most of the females. I only have my eyes on one woman tonight. A very special one."

He suddenly said with a low, almost sad tone. I pulled my gaze away from the crowd, curious to see who he might be looking at. Could there be a girlfriend among the crowd? Or maybe a wife? No. Could it be?

As I turned, I found him looking down at me. My heart skipped a beat. Is he serious? I frowned, but a confused smile tugged at my lips too.

"Jeez, you’re a nonstop cheesy flirt!"

He smirked at me. I shook my head, but the smile still lingered. He knew exactly how to make a woman feel special. He knew how to use words to play tricks on the female mind. But I wasn’t going to fall for it. No. I wouldn’t.

"So, when your mom told you to babysit me, did she include flirting in your duties?"

I raised an eyebrow, my voice carrying an edge of displeasure, but the smile still didn’t leave my face.

"No. For that, I happily volunteered myself!"

He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. I was so annoyed by his cocky behavior. I despised bratty, arrogant men. But, strangely enough, it suited him. The vibe I got from him was light and playful. Despite my mental protests, he bounced back with his usual energy. I guess I could admire that.

"So, are these your pick-up lines or something?"

I tried to sound annoyed, but I think I’m failing.

"The real question is—is it working?"

He wiggled his eyebrows again. I shifted my gaze back to the crowd as I sipped my juice.

"I’m rather unimpressed."

I was really trying to push him away. I glanced back at him and saw the flash of pain in his eyes again. He couldn’t possibly have such a fragile ego that something I said would hurt him, right? I felt a twinge of guilt, but I pushed it aside. I needed to keep pushing him further away. I met his eyes, unwavering.

"And slightly repulsed, as I have a feeling you're just trying to get me into your bed."

James

So far, I’ve heard more than my fair share of crap from my mate. Her comment about me being an easy f***k to girls? That one stung. She’s bold, brave, but d.amn, she can be harsh. On the flip side, the old me would probably have just shrugged it off and thought, if girls were using me, I wouldn’t mind. But things have changed. Now, all I want is this one stubborn woman—Laila.

She’s rejected me so many times in the last ten minutes that it feels like a punch to the gut. Her words hurt. A lot. My wolf’s howling in pain right along with me. I don’t even know where my persistence is coming from, but I’m still hell-bent on winning her over. Maybe it’s my gut telling me she’s pushing me away on purpose—not because she’s not interested, but because there’s something more going on. I can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to this story.

Maybe it’s my pride talking, but I can’t help but think that all the girls want me. The ones who say they don’t? They’re just lying to themselves. And then there’s the fact that she’s my mate—she just doesn’t know yet that I’m the one for her.

Her last bold statement catches me off guard for a moment. Suddenly, a vivid image of her on my bed flashes through my mind, and I can’t shake the thought. Oh, you have no idea. If I could have it my way, I would have pulled you to the closest bathroom and f*cked you hard while bending you over the sink. We wouldn’t even get to bed. I feel that my d**k grows hard because of these vivid images in my head. But I can’t have these thoughts now if I don’t want to have an embarrassing tent in my pants.

Oh, man, I had so many wet dreams about my mate all week long. I have been jerk*ng off in the shower more than back in my teenage years.

And it's all because of this stunning woman in front of me, who, despite her beauty, seems to have a sharp edge and is doing everything she can to push me away. Rejected again. Me. One of the most sought-after guys among she-wolves and human females alike. But I try again.

"You’re our guest in this country. You don’t know anyone here, so I feel responsible to entertain you tonight and keep you company," I reply earnestly.

"I think the silence earlier told me everything I need to know about what kind of 'entertainment' you have in mind," she air-quotes the word "entertainment," her voice dripping with displeasure as she shakes her head. She’s right, but I can’t admit that to her. Not yet at least.

"Maybe I should prove you wrong," I say, determination still fueling my words.

"Maybe you should just leave me alone?" she snaps back, her tone edged with anger.

Why does she keep pushing me away? Does she have a boyfriend? The thought stings, and jealousy twists at my heart. Does she not like me at all? It seems like she hates my guts—doesn’t want to talk to me, doesn’t even want to be near me. I felt a surge of frustration. This sucks. I grumbled inwardly like a child. I was starting to feel desperate… My head dropped, and I kicked the floor with my shoe, pretending to aim at a rock. I wanted to kick something—anything. Or someone. The constant pressure and rejection was getting to me in ways I couldn’t shake. I needed to release this tension, to run it off, but she was here. How could I leave her?

"Okay, I’m sorry. Maybe your intentions are innocent. I don’t know anyone here except you and your mom."

Her words caught me off guard. It was like our previous exchange had worked her up, but now she’d relaxed and even apologized. That was… unexpected. And, I hoped, a good sign. But my earlier hopes about making progress had been dashed by her sharp words, so I tried not to get too hopeful just yet.

"Come on, I'll introduce you to my younger sisters. They're lovely girls."

Since this conversation wasn't going anywhere good, I needed a change of pace, something to take my mind off things. My family might just be the distraction I needed.

"Hey, girls! This is Laila, my… our home re-decorator and designer."