Small Portions

POV: James

"You sure you don't mind me sitting with you, Alpha James?"

"I'm technically in your domain right now." A small smile tugged at my mouth. "If you're fine with it, so am I. Though I'd move quick, before someone else barges in with more demands."

She nodded, filled a small bowl for herself, and sat across from me. Coffee was the only thing she'd had all morning, and lunch hadn't happened at all. Hungry as she clearly was, she wasn't about to pass up an actual hot meal, even sitting across from the one man who'd made her life harder than it ever needed to be. There was something almost surreal about it, sharing a table with the Alpha, like the walls between them had thinned just enough to let this small, ordinary moment sneak through.

And if I let myself notice how good he looks in this light, that's my business.

I frowned at the size of the portion she'd given herself. The frown deepened when I clocked how carefully she ate: small bites, slow, deliberate, like her body wasn't entirely convinced the food would still be there if she rushed.

I know that look. Seen it in warriors after survival training, when a few days of nothing shrinks your stomach down until eating fast makes you sick.

Is nobody feeding her right?

The thought sat in me like a stone. I'd seen the stores in this kitchen with my own eyes. She ran the damn place. There was no shortage of food here, and one rule I'd carved into stone the day I became Alpha was that nobody in Bloodmoon pack went hungry. Watching her eat like someone who'd learned not to trust a full plate stirred something ugly in my chest, guilt tangled up with an anger I didn't have a name for yet.

Maybe she just never gets the time. If people keep bursting in on her, the way Richard just did, when the hell would she ever sit down long enough to actually eat?

I linked every pack member right then, laying down a new rule without much room for argument. Kitchen and staff would be off limits for forty minutes after lunch was cleared each day, no exceptions. It wasn't much. But it was something concrete, a small correction to a wrong I was only now starting to see clearly.

Trishelle, for her part, was just grateful for a real meal in front of her. She knew she was already behind on dinner prep and decided, quietly, that she'd deal with the fallout later. Right now she wanted this: the warmth of the food, the strange, rare comfort of not eating alone.

And the way he's watching me like I matter. I could get used to that, if I let myself.

I finished first, stood, and rinsed my dishes in the sink. When she started to rise to clear her own bowl, I crossed the kitchen and pressed her gently back down onto her stool, my hand warm against her shoulder for a beat longer than it needed to be.

"It's fine. Finish eating first, chores can wait." My voice dropped, rough at the edges. "Have seconds if you want them. Don't hold back on my account."

I headed for the back door, then paused, hand on the frame. "Don't push yourself today. Keep dinner simple, and take care of that hand. We don't want it getting infected. If it looks off at all, go see the doctor."

"Yes, Alpha." She bowed her head. "And thank you."

I stepped out with a small smile tugging at my mouth, the quiet gratitude in her voice trailing after me longer than I expected, settling somewhere under my ribs like an unfinished thought.

I can't undo how I've treated her.

But maybe I can start making it right. Starting now.