After Lunch

POV: James

A soft knock on his bedroom door yanked him back into the present, and he groaned loud enough that it bounced around inside his own skull. Standing took more effort than it should have. His body felt heavy in a way that had nothing to do with sleep and everything to do with whatever exhaustion had dug itself into his bones the past few days. He shuffled to the door on legs that felt like they belonged to someone else and cracked it open just enough to see who was bothering him.

A young male Omega stood on the other side, ducking his head the second James's eyes landed on him. "Excuse me, Alpha. Beta Juda wanted to know if you were up."

James dragged a hand down his face, trying to scrub the fog off his brain. "Tell him I'm up. I'll see him at ten, in my office."

He started to shut the door when the Omega piped up again, quick and nervous. "Ah, I'm sorry, Alpha, but it's already after lunch."

"What?" The word came out sharper than he meant, and his own voice rang inside his skull like somebody had smacked a bell. The Omega flinched back a full step, shoulders hunching like he was bracing for worse. James winced and gentled his tone right away, hating that he'd put that look on the kid's face. "Sorry. Didn't realize the time. Tell Juda we'll talk tomorrow instead."

"Yes, Alpha." The young man vanished in seconds, footsteps hauling ass down the hall at a pace just short of a run. James eased the door shut and leaned his forehead against it, letting the cool wood ground him for a second.

*Months since I've missed training. Last time was rut, and even then I dragged myself out for at least half the session.* The thought needled him, a quiet accusation he couldn't shake off. What the hell was wrong with him lately?

His stomach picked that exact moment to remind him it existed, twisting hard enough that he pressed a hand against it. A hot shower seemed like the only reasonable next move, so he peeled off last night's clothes on the way to the bathroom and let the water beat some sense back into him.

The shower helped more than he expected. By the time he stepped out, the drumline in his head had dropped to a dull, manageable hum, and his stomach had switched from threatening mutiny to just plain demanding food. He got dressed and made his way toward the dining hall, only to find it already stripped clean, tables wiped down, not a soul in sight. The empty room felt like a small, personal insult.

*Missed lunch entirely. Should've known.*

He wasn't above making his own food, whatever his warriors liked to joke about the big bad Alpha being useless in a kitchen. Let them laugh. He'd fed himself long before any of them existed to have opinions about it. He wandered into the kitchen and started digging through cupboards for bread, meat, anything that would pass for a sandwich, when footsteps behind him stopped him cold.

Before he even turned around, her scent hit him, familiar in a way that landed somewhere between his chest and his gut. Something in him settled that he hadn't even realized was still off balance.

He turned slowly, hands still full, until she came into view.

*There she is.*

Trishelle stood just inside the doorway in her usual clothes, gardening apron still tied over the top, dirt smudged along one forearm like she'd walked straight in from the flower beds. He'd seen her only days ago, but some starved, stupid part of his chest reacted like months had gone by, refusing to be reasonable about any of it. His heart slammed hard against his ribs. Her mouth fell open at the sight of him, shock written all over her face, and he couldn't stop the small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

*God, she has no idea what she does to me.*

She caught it. Her jaw snapped shut, confusion flickering across her face as her eyes dropped to the food in his hands.

"Umm." He cleared his throat, feeling strangely exposed under her stare, like she could read every ridiculous thought currently rattling around in his skull. "I just woke up. Realized lunch was already over, so I was gonna throw a sandwich together."

She turned away without a word, and for one absurd second his chest clenched like she'd shot him down flat, some old insecurity rearing up faster than he could smother it. Then he clocked what she was actually doing, setting a basket down on the counter beside her, one he hadn't even noticed she'd been carrying the whole time. Relief loosened the knot in his chest almost as fast as it had formed.