Warrior's human mate

Chapter 19

James

As I inhaled her scent—fresh like sun-dried hay—I lost myself. And, at the same time, I found myself.

I was calm. My wolf was calm. He purred in satisfaction, content to have our mate so close. The delicious sparks danced across my chest, stomach, and arms, igniting something deep inside me. I savored it. Having a mate was the most incredible feeling in this life.

The more I breathed her in, the sleepier I felt. Sound sleep had been a stranger to me—every night without her was restless. But just as I was settling into the warmth of her presence, she suddenly pulled away, making our embrace painfully short. The loss was physical, a sharp ache in my chest.

It felt like I was losing her.

Her face held a flicker of surprise, and I wondered—what had startled her?

"I have a special task tomorrow, so I can't have lunch with you. But would you like to go dancing at night?" I asked, hopeful.

She gave me a blank look.

"What day is tomorrow?"

"Friday," I replied with a small smile.

She cupped her forehead, nodding. "All my workdays are starting to blur together," she sighed, rubbing her tired eyes.

"Okay, I guess we can do that," she said after a pause.

"I have no other plans anyway."

A small victory. "Great! I'll pick you up at eight p.m.?"

She nodded, but it felt like déjà vu. A week had passed, yet we hadn’t made any real progress.

***

At exactly eight p.m., I picked Laila up.

Same routine, same feeling—the more time I get with her, the better.

The moment we stepped into the club, Laila shrugged of her trench coat and headed straight for the dance floor.

She was stunning, as always. Tonight, she wore a silky blue knee-length dress with a flowing skirt. Unlike her usual long-sleeved outfits, this one had short sleeves, revealing more of her delicate arms. And, as always, her long hair cascaded down her shoulders, effortlessly feminine.

She barely spared me a glance, just a wave before she lost herself in the rhythm.

I wanted to join her. But I didn’t. My self-control was hanging by a thread.

Three weeks. It had only been three weeks since I first met her, but I am a werewolf, that felt like three months. And my body felt it too. My wolf growled constantly, pushing me to claim her, mate with her. He had been restless lately, pacing inside my head like a caged animal. It was giving me a headache on top of the other struggles.

I sat at the bar, turning my back to her, hoping it would help. It didn’t.

Because as I took a sip of my beer, my mind betrayed me, conjuring images of all the men around her—watching her, lusting after my gem. I couldn’t take it.

Without another thought, I stood and made my way toward her. She barely had time to react before I pulled her against my chest.

She looked up at me, surprised.

"I can’t let those dogs lust after you," I smirked.

She quirked a brow. "Possessive much?"

"Yes. But you can thank me later—at least no one will get their sticky hands on you tonight."

She shook her head with a small smile but didn’t argue. We danced. For over an hour, I let myself drown in the pleasure—and torture—of having her in my arms. Every sway, every touch, every brush of her body against mine was agony. The sparks were burning me from the inside out.

She often closed her eyes as she moved, lost in the music. And every time she did, I let my gaze drop to her lips—plump, tempting, mine. My mind wandered. I imagined tasting them, teasing them, owning them.

I could do it. Just lean in. Just—

Her piercing gaze snapped open, slicing through my thoughts like a blade. I forced myself back to reality. But the moment she closed her eyes again, I let my mind wander down that road once more.

"Let’s get some drinks?" she asked at one point.

"Sure," I agreed, pulling her toward the bar.

Once we reached it, I grinned. "Another round of tequila?"

She scoffed. "No. I don’t drink alcohol, remembaa?" she said, mimicking a British accent with a sarcastic edge.

I smirked. "But I need a neck to properly drink tequila. Would you like to volunteer?"

"Ha! Nice try." She snorted. "For that, you can pick one of the girls eyeing you like you’re dessert. I bet they’d love to giggle under your touch."

She frowned. Interesting.

"That thought upsets you, doesn’t it?" I teased.

Her face shifted, serious. She was thinking.

"You’re free to do as you wish, James," she finally said, but her voice carried the slightest trace of sadness.

I leaned in, voice low. "If I’m free to do as I wish… then can I lick your neck and r****h that mouth of yours?"

"Ha! Everything but that," she shot back, eyebrows raised. But she was smiling.

After drinks she returned to the dance floor. I joined her a few more times, but as before, I noticed something—when Laila was exhausted, she started talking like a drunk person.

And tonight, that was my cue.

"Okay, let’s go home," I said, taking her hand.

"Yeah… I’m done for tonight," she mumbled, following me outside.

The moment she slipped into the passenger seat, I knew—this was my chance. I roared my car to life and we sped off. I had a plan but I was not going to share it with her. I hope she is not too mad at me afterward. She dozed off while we were driving. I inwardly rubbed my hands.

Perfect.

I drove her to my house. When we arrived, I gently shook her awake. She stirred, barely opening her eyes. Without a word, she got out of the car sleepy. I took her hand and she followed. I opened the front door and led her in. She was looking at the floor dazed. She took off her shoes and held them in her right hand. Laila walked toward the stairs—barefoot, half-asleep, and completely unaware.

I watched, stunned. She didn’t question why she was here. She didn’t accuse me of anything. No sharp words, no stubborn resistance. I followed her quietly.

She climbed the stairs and, without hesitation, turned toward my bedroom. My heart pounded. Had she accepted me at last?

But of course, I spoke too soon. She stopped suddenly, froze in place. Then, wide-eyed, she spun around.

"This is not my house!" she gasped, sounding half-terrified, half-dazed.

I laughed. I couldn’t help it.

"And you’re just now realizing that?"

She groaned, running a hand over her head. "Oh, man. I am reeeaally tired."

"You sure looked like you lived here," I teased.

She chuckled, shaking her head. "My brain didn’t even register the difference!" Then, after a pause, she added, "Though… I have felt like I’ve lived here before. Maybe all those virtual tours messed with my head."

That statement warmed me more than I expected. Maybe soon she will live here for real.

But then her head snapped up, eyes sharp again.

"James! What am I doing here?"

I sighed. Here goes nothing.

"Last time, you were exhausted, and you don’t have a bath at your place. I figured you could relax your sore muscles here." I gave her my most sincere smile. I didn’t have any other secret or horny motive. Maybe.

Her hands went to her hips. She glared. Sh.it. Maybe I didn’t think this plan through.

"So, is this just another trick to get a girl into your bed?" she demanded.

"Shh, my parents are sleeping," I whispered. "And no. We have plenty of guest rooms. I prepped one for you—it even has a big bathtub. Trust me, you’ll feel better tomorrow."

She studied me for a long moment before finally relaxing. I didn’t have ill intentions. If only she wanted to…

"Come on," I said, taking her hand. "I’ll get the bath ready for you."

Laila

I woke up to the sun shining brightly outside. After last night, exhaustion still clung to me, but I was a guest in this house. Sleeping in all day would be rude. I had to show myself to... well, my clients. How did I even get into this mess?

With a groan, I dragged myself out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom to wash my face. The cold water jolted me awake, but it did nothing to wash away the memory of yesterday. I winced inwardly, my thoughts a jumbled mess.

James had held me in his arms, and for a moment, I wanted to let go. I wanted to melt into him, rest my head against his chest, and listen to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. He had asked me so many times to be with him, to let him in. And yet, I resisted. Closing my eyes, I tried to lose myself in the music, but when I looked up at him again, my resolve wavered.

I wanted to bite his jaw, to r****h his mouth the way he had a week ago. Those kisses burned in my memory, playing on repeat in the back of my mind. I groaned, torn between two forces pulling me in opposite directions. My rational mind screamed no, while every fiber of my being ached to say yesss. It was an inner turmoil I hadn’t expected to hurt this much.

So I did the only thing I could—I closed my eyes and pretended to be someone else, somewhere else. And it helped. Until I opened them again and my gaze locked onto his lips, dragging me back into that torturous cycle. Close. Escape. Open. Ache. Repeat.

I exhaled sharply and looked at myself in the mirror. I was a mess. With wet fingers, I tried to tame my hair, but it was a lost cause with frizzy nest. Whatever. Who cares? Shrugging, I stepped out of the guest room and immediately froze as the cold tiles sent a shock through my bare feet.

I should’ve grabbed socks. Oh wait—I didn’t have any with me. Just tights. Probably stinky tights. I scrunched my nose. Great.

Hoping no one was in the kitchen, I made my way downstairs. As I reached the kitchen, I heard movement. Sh.it. James’ parents were standing with their backs to me. I padded in silently, but somehow, they sensed my presence. They both froze. Then, slowly, they turned to face me, surprise clear on their expressions.

Oh, sh.it. This was a bad idea. Where was James? Still sleeping? Maybe I should’ve woken him up first.

But then their faces softened, breaking into warm smiles.

“Laila! Good morning! What a lovely surprise!” Mrs. Montgomery greeted me sincerely.

“Good morning! I’m sorry if I’m disturbing your family this morning,” I said apologetically.

“James kidn*pped me yesterday and brought me here,” I added nonchalantly. Because, really, I could always blame him.

“He did what?!” His mother’s voice rose in alarm.

“Yeah.” I shrugged and plopped onto the nearest seat by the kitchen island. It wasn’t exactly a lie.

“And you’re so calm about it?” His father asked, eyeing me curiously.

“Well, I was tired,” I said with another shrug, grabbing a glass and pouring myself some water. I was still so thirsty after all that dancing yesterday.

I heard footsteps bouncing down the stairs. My heart skipped a beat. Was it James? I kind of hoped it was. Sitting alone with his parents was starting to feel… uncomfortable. As they are my clients, I suddenly became very conscious about how I looked.

As if sensing my thoughts, James appeared, his gaze immediately locking onto me. His parents had an amused smile playing on their lips, probably hoping for some kind of development between us. I wasn’t ready to think about that.

James grinned. “Gooood morning, beautiful! I was hoping to wake up before you.”

I shrugged, lips pursed.

His gaze roamed over me, amusement flickering in his eyes. But still he looked at me… like I was the most fascinating thing in the world… No guy had ever looked at me like that before.

James

When I woke up, I rushed straight to check on Laila, but she was already up and gone from her room. With her being next door, I barely got any sleep last night. My mind was a battlefield—fighting with myself, wrestling with my wolf, struggling against my carnal desires. My wolf was done waiting. He wanted to mark and mate with her right then and there. But I had to hold back. I had to give her space. Our relationship wasn’t at that stage yet.

I finally dozed off when the sun was already up.

Following her scent, I found her sitting on the kitchen island, my parents watching her with amused smiles. Great. They were probably hoping for some action between us. Goddess, I didn’t even want to think about it. I turned to Laila to greet her.

Her hair was still messy from sleep, and she looked tired, but somehow, unbelievably cute. She had come downstairs straight from bed, still wearing my t-shirt and my sister’s pajama shorts. I was captivated by the sight.

I had never seen a girl walk out of a room without making herself presentable—not even my sisters. But Laila looked like she didn’t care. And somehow, I loved that. It meant only one thing—she felt comfortable with us. The realization warmed my heart. I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

“James Montgomery! Why is sweet Laila telling me you kidn*pped her?”

My mom’s sharp voice snapped me out of my daze. Sh.it. What?

“I didn’t kidnap her!” I said defensively.

“Well, technically, you did,” Laila cut in, raising a pointed eyebrow. “You didn’t ask me if I wanted to come here. You didn’t even inform me. So…”

“Come on! You know I brought you here so you could have a nice bath for your sore muscles after dancing. That’s it.” I defended myself.

My mom’s expression softened, and a small smile played on her lips.

“Well, that was very thoughtful of you, James.”

Phew. At least Mom wasn’t mad anymore. My dad had always been strict when I was a reckless teenager, but my mom? She was the one woman who could still scare me to death. Well… okay, maybe Laila was getting there too.

“Yes, it was thoughtful,” Laila agreed, nodding at my mom.

Yes! I grinned brightly at her. She shot me a look, widening her eyes as if she wanted to roll them at me.

We moved to the dining room with plates of food. In our family, my mom—and sometimes even my dad—enjoyed cooking themselves, giving our omega maids some free time during the week.

A few moments later, I heard my sister Fay bouncing down the stairs. She stopped in the doorway the second she saw Laila, with Astrid close behind her.

“I thought I smelled you, but I couldn’t believe it.”

Laila frowned briefly but, thank the Goddess, let that comment about “smelling her” slide. Fay took in Laila’s disheveled look.

“Wow. You look like sh.it.”

Laila threw her head back and laughed heartily. What a beautiful sight...

“Thanks! That’s really boosting my self-esteem this morning,” she said sarcastically once she calmed down.

“What are you doing here?” Fay continued questioning.

“James kidn*pped me.” Laila pointed at me.

Fay furrowed her eyebrows and scrunched her nose.

“That makes sense. I knew you wouldn’t come here willingly to that horny wolf’s den.” She shot me a look. Laila snickered.

“I didn’t kidnap her,” I repeated, glaring at Fay, silently begging her to shut her loose mouth before she said too much. But she ignored me and sniffed the air.

“Where did you stay?” Fay turned back to Laila.

“In the guest room.” Laila nodded toward the bedroom.

Fay and my parents exchanged meaningful looks. I knew they were all wondering if I had mated with Laila. Oh, how I wished—but things weren’t that simple. We were moving at a slow pace. A very slow pace.

“Come. You don’t have clothes here. I’ll give you some,” Fay offered.

Laila shrugged. “Meh. It doesn’t matter. Don’t bother.”

“Are you sure you’re okay sitting here in your makeshift pajama outfit?” Fay raised an eyebrow.

“I can give you my cosmetics, too. You can comb your hair.”

Just as I said - that was Fay's standard of leaving the room. She had light make-up on her already and designer clothes on, even if they looked casual. Something flickered across Laila’s face—regret? Sadness? Hurt? I couldn’t tell.

“Oh, I’m not presentable enough for you?” she said quietly. “I’m sorry… I was too tired to think about it. Or care. And I crashed at your house. You probably have your standards. I’m sorry for being inappropriate.”

She rambled nonsense, her assumptions completely wrong. Sadness crossed her face again. She looked down at her hands resting in her lap.

“I think I’ll go home.”

“No!” I practically shouted.

“No, no, sweetie,” my mom jumped in. “We don’t care about mundane things like clothing. Fay was just making sure you were comfortable. We love having you here. I know how much James cares for you.”

Laila gave her a small, grateful smile, but it still looked sad.

“Yeah, girl! If you’re good, I’m good. Chill.” Fay chimed in.

“See? No problem. I love the way you look.” I flashed my signature smile and winked at her.

She smiled back, but there was still that sadness in her eyes.

“Are you okay?” I asked, worried now.

“No.” She shook her head honestly.

My chest tightened. “What’s wrong?”

Something about Fay’s offer had completely ruined her mood. I turned to glare at Fay, blaming her immediately.

Laila sighed. “Well… your family is still our client. My bosses wouldn’t approve of this.”

My mother smiled warmly. “Don’t you worry, dear! You’re a guest in our country and in our home. We’re more than happy to have a closer relationship than just a formal business connection.”

I exhaled, relieved. My mom had a way with words. Meanwhile, all I ever did was p.iss Laila off.

“Thank you, Mrs. Montgomery,” Laila said softly.

“Claire,” my mom corrected with a kind smile. “Call me Claire, dear.”

Despite the reassurance, Laila’s mood didn’t improve much throughout breakfast. She smiled occasionally, but it never reached her eyes. My parents asked her questions, but she answered briefly. She listened to our conversations but barely participated.

It wasn’t like her.

The sadness was thick in the air. My parents and sisters kept glancing at her. Even Fay looked regretful—something I rarely saw from her. I guess she already liked Laila a lot.

I couldn’t take it anymore. I rested my arm on the back of her chair and leaned in close to whisper in her ear.

“What’s the matter?”

Laila

I don’t belong here. I don’t belong here. I don’t belong here.

The thought echoed in my mind on an endless loop as we sat around the brunch table. No matter how hard I tried to focus on the conversation, to smile when they joked, or to pretend I was at ease—I couldn’t shake that overwhelming feeling.

I didn’t fit in here.

Fay’s casual remark about changing had made me feel self-conscious, though I knew she didn’t mean any harm. But still, it stuck with me. They were all effortlessly put together—polished, refined. The women in the family wore light makeup, their outfits were casual but still coordinated and stylish. Meanwhile, I was sitting here in a borrowed T-shirt, my hair a mess from sleep, looking like I’d just rolled out of bed. Which, technically, I had.

I felt ashamed. These people had standards that never applied in my life. I came from a simple family. At home, I wouldn’t have cared. I could have wandered around in just a T-shirt and underwear if I wanted. No one batted an eye—except for my mom, who would nag me to put on socks. Warm feet, healthy kidneys. That was her rule.

But here? Here, I felt like an outsider.

They were wealthy—not just comfortable, but wealthy. They probably had an entirely different standard of what was considered “casual.” I grew up running barefoot in the mud, while James had likely spent his childhood playing in a private pool. What the hell was I doing here?

I listened to their conversations, their easy laughter and teasing. It was sweet—genuine, even. They weren’t arrogant or snobby. But that didn’t change the fact that I felt completely out of place. I wanted to curl up in my chair, pull my knees to my chest, and hide. Instead, I sat stiffly, my hands folded in my lap, feeling like I was playing a part in a scene I didn’t belong in.

Was I homesick? I’d only been gone for three weeks, and usually, it took months for that feeling to creep in. But maybe it wasn’t just about home. Maybe it was something deeper.

But I don’t belong here. Tears pricked at my eyes. No, no, no. I tilted my head up, blinking rapidly to stop them from falling. What the hell was wrong with me? Why was I so emotional? Did I… want to belong here?

A sharp pang struck my chest. Maybe I did.

I had only been on one official date with James, but we had spent almost every day together since. He had somehow wormed his way under my skin, more than I had expected—more than I had been prepared for. But just because I wanted to belong didn’t mean I did.

I just wanted to crawl into bed and hide under the covers.

James’ arm rested on the back of my chair, and he leaned in close to whisper in my ear.

“What’s the matter?”

His voice was low, concerned. I turned to meet his blue eyes—the same eyes I had grown so used to seeing every day. He had been nothing but kind to me, making me laugh, supporting me in ways I hadn’t realized I needed. He was more than just the rich playboy I had assumed he was showing depth and maturity.

But no matter how much I liked being around him, I didn’t fit into his world.

My eyes burned again. James’ expression shifted, his brows drawing together in concern. I blinked rapidly, willing the tears away. I needed to get out of here before anyone noticed. I didn’t want him or others to fuss about me. I didn’t want that James tries to find out why I’m almost crying. I didn’t know myself. Well, I did, but I didn’t want to talk about it. Or even admit it. f***k.

I turned to his parents.

“It’s been a lovely brunch. Thank you for hosting me. I should get going now.” My voice was strained, but I forced a polite smile. “Don’t worry, James. I’ll take a cab.”

I stood up quickly, eager to escape before I embarrassed myself any further.

“No. I’ll take you home.”

James immediately rose to his feet.

“Please don’t bother,” I said, trying to keep my voice light. “You should spend time with your family.”

“No.” His tone left no room for argument. “I brought you here. I’ll take you home.”

I met his gaze, seeing the determination there. I didn’t have the energy to fight him on this. I dropped my eyes to the floor.

“Okay.”

“I’ll be ready in five,” I muttered before turning on my heel and practically running upstairs.

Only when I reached the guest room did I realize—I had been barefoot that whole time. For f**k’s sake.

They probably thought I looked like a homeless person. Rich people had standards—expectations. And I had no idea how to meet them.

I quickly changed and did my best to tidy up the room. I didn’t want to leave behind any mess. At least here, in this small act, I had some control.

I could be messy at home. But here?

Here, I didn’t belong.

James

She was quiet the entire ride, her gaze fixed on the passing scenery. Occasionally, she glanced down at her hands resting in her lap, lost in thought—just as she had been at my house. But now, in the dim glow of the car’s interior, the sadness on her face was even more evident.

I wanted to know what was going on in her mind. I wanted to fix it. No, I needed to fix it

When we reached her apartment, I walked her to her door. She unlocked it, then turned to me, offering a tired, forced smile.

“Thank you. And I’m sorry—I’m just in a weird mood. I think I need more sleep in my system.”

She let out a small chuckle, but there was no humor in it.

“Stop apologizing. It doesn’t matter,” I said softly. “I just wish I could do something to make you feel better.”

She shook her head. “It’s okay.”

I placed my hands on her shoulders, resisting the overwhelming urge to pull her into my arms. I wanted to hold her, to hug her until whatever was weighing her down disappeared. But we weren’t there yet.

I felt disabled. I felt like a soldier without an armory. I was…helpless. Powerless. I was a werewolf. Strength and power had always been on my side. But here—where it mattered most, with her—I had none.

Acting on impulse, I leaned in and kissed her. Just a soft peck, nothing more. But she responded. For a brief second, hope flickered inside me.

Then I opened my eyes and saw the tears streaming down her face, making my own heart break. My stomach twisted. What the f***k is so wrong?

“Wow! First time in my life a girl has cried after I kissed her,” I tried to joke, forcing a teasing smirk. “And here I thought I was pretty good at it.”

She didn’t open her eyes, but a small, fleeting smile cracked on her lips. I cupped her face, brushing away the tears with my thumbs.

“Laila, what’s wrong?” My voice was low, pleading.

She leaned into my touch before shaking her head slightly, as if trying to pull away. Finally, she opened her teary eyes.

“I’m just tired,” she whispered. “I need more sleep. It’s happened before. I really just need rest. Don’t worry.”

It sounded believable. But something in her tone told me she was trying to convince herself more than me. I didn’t push.

Instead, I gave in to my instincts and pulled her into a hug. She hesitated for a moment, then melted against my chest with a soft sigh.

I closed my eyes, inhaling the faint scent of her hair. This—this—felt perfect. After a few seconds, she slowly stepped out of my embrace.

“Thanks for everything,” she murmured. “I’ll see you… when I see you.” Her sad smile nearly broke me.

I shook my head. “Don’t worry, beautiful. You’ll see me on Monday. Lunch, as always.” I winked, trying to keep things light. It had become our little tradition.

She nodded. “Bye.”

“See you soon. Rest well. And call me if you need anything.” The words rushed out just as she closed the door.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair, reluctant to leave her like this.

I should be inside, curled up with her under a blanket, holding her close until she felt better. That was the power of the bond—it could soothe, heal, make everything right in an instant.

But today, I had to walk away. And that fu.cking sucked.