Chapter 16 #2
Broxen stepped over to a nearby table that had rows of lacy panties laid out atop it.
He plucked up a pair to study the tiny floral designs in the lacing.
In his imagination, he pictured what it might look like on Gabriela, pictured her wearing this in place of the bikini bottoms she’d worn during the summer.
His cock twitched, and another growl threatened to emerge from deep within his chest. He gritted his teeth and swallowed the sound.
Laying the underwear on the table, he swept his gaze around the store.
There were dozens of things he’d love to see Gabriela wearing, dozens of things that would flatter her body—not that she needed anything to look sexy as hell.
The clothing choices in McCall’s stores had been limited, especially due to the season.
She looked good in anything she wore, but he thought she’d like things like this—pretty clothing for a beautiful woman.
His eyes settled on a set of displays deeper in the store, where mannequins without arms, legs, or heads were dressed in clothes that looked like mixes between undergarments and sleepwear, most of which were quite revealing.
Broxen pictured Gabriela wearing those items as he walked toward them, but he knew his imagination would never do her justice—and that, if he did this for too long, he wouldn’t be able to hide the evidence of his lustful thoughts.
Kruk, this place could be my undoing.
He knew enough about humans to understand that such a display wouldn’t be looked upon kindly.
Lifting one of the garments off the nearby rack, he frowned at the sizing tag.
It had taken him long enough to figure out men’s sizes for clothing and shoes; puzzling out the sizes on these items would be like deciphering an alphanumeric code in comparison.
And he’d never been good at that sort of thing.
Holding the hanger by the hook, he lowered the garment until it was roughly around the height it’d be if Gabriela were wearing it.
She was so tiny—but most humans seemed small to him, and it was hard to tell if the hem of this garment would reach her mid-thigh or down to her knees.
His frown deepened as he adjusted the height of it again.
“Can I help you, sir?” asked a female from nearby.
Broxen turned his head to see one of the store’s employees standing nearby, her smile friendly but her brow slightly furrowed.
“I want to buy some of these for my mate,” he replied, turning his attention back to the garment.
“Great. I can totally help you with that.” The female moved closer to him, smile softening. “Do you happen to know her size?”
Flattening a hand, Broxen held it up to the middle of his chest.
“Um…” The female tilted her head.
“She is this tall,” Broxen said.
“Oh!” The employee laughed nervously. “I meant her clothing size and her bra size, but I guess that helps a bit.”
He only realized then that all the clothing Gabriela and Ana had selected when he’d taken them shopping had tags displaying their sizes. He should’ve saved himself the trouble and checked before he left.
What was Gabriela’s bra size?
Returning the garment to the rack, he cupped his hands in front of his chest, imagining the soft flesh of Gabriela’s breasts in his hands. “About this big.”
The female’s eyes widened, and she nodded. “Okay. Well, the good news is that we have a ninety-day return policy if stuff doesn’t fit, so…let’s work with what we have.”
He exited the store sometime later with a large paper bag stuffed nearly full, wondering why the females at the cash register had been giving him such surprised looks. Had he bought more than seemed normal?
Broxen didn’t dwell long on the matter, however, as his gaze fell upon a jewelry store across the way, where the lighting made everything sparkle and glitter.
Surprise her this Christmas, said one of the signs on the counter, bearing a picture of a gold necklace with shining diamonds on its pendant.
But his thoughts were not upon that necklace as he approached the jewelry store. No, his mind had turned to something else, to something new—the rings lined up in the display cases.
He knew the human custom, what they called a proposal. He knew, at least in vague terms, the way they went about becoming mates. He’d seen it in their shows and movies, had read it in several books.
And it always started with a ring. Even if he didn’t understand why the gifting of a ring was important to human mating, it was important.
I could claim her in my way, and in the way of her kind…
But would she be ready for that? Would she be prepared for that sort of commitment? He knew he was moving fast, that he was being too bold, but he also knew what he wanted.
Gabriela.
He released a harsh breath through his nostrils, turned, and walked away from the jewelry store. Making his full claim on Gabriela—and her accepting it with equal fullness—was inevitable. It would happen. He didn’t need to rush anything, and yet…
Broxen glanced over his shoulder, glimpsing the jewelry store’s bright lights and gleaming displays from the corner of his eye. His lips fell into a frown. He’d have to revisit this matter after giving it some thought—and he doubted that he would be able to do that while he was here.
Forcing his face forward, he continued onward.
His frustration and annoyance flared often as he worked his way around the mall, navigating between clusters of shoppers and vendors offering him free samples of who knew what.
There was a word that seemed to fit the people here, one that had stuck with him for some reason ever since he’d first seen it in a book—masochist. He’d known a few people on Turata who’d fit the definition of it.
He couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to be in this mall right now who didn’t enjoy a little suffering.
Every store had lines at the registers. Every cashier seemed slower than the last. But every time he thought he had enough, that he’d seen all there was to see, he’d spot something in another display window that would make him think of Ana or Gabriela, and he’d find himself heading into a new store.
There were also a few other jewelry stores, taunting him with their glinting displays as he passed them.
The number of bags in his hands grew as he went from store to store, and as it did, it became more of a challenge to avoid bumping anyone.
The little kits walking with their parents were particularly difficult to look out for, and more than once Broxen had to swing his arms up high to avoid knocking over a tiny human.
With his hands full, he couldn’t check his phone, but he felt the minutes burning away. He felt every mile between himself and his females.
It is for them.
Broxen’s irritation was nearing its peak when he entered a store with signs that said it specialized in pop culture memorabilia; he wasn’t sure what that meant, but it had many items with cartoon characters upon them, and he had a feeling Ana would have loved to look around inside.
Unfortunately, the store space was crammed with display racks and shelving, and some of the walkways were so narrow that he could barely fit through without turning sideways and lifting his bags over his head.
It was exactly the sort of place he would have strongly recommended Astius avoid back when Broxen was still a bodyguard—a security nightmare where the escape routes were effectively blocked no matter where you were because it was so crowded.
He found himself forced to stop in a narrow aisle where a small, frail looking female—an elder of advanced years, by the looks of her—was staring up at an item on a high shelf.