Page 24 of Possessive

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" Reuben asked, eyeing the twins meaningfully.

"At this exact moment, no," Hunter said. "That's why we're here, talking to Mina." He glanced at me. "You like books too? There might be room on Reuben's credit card for more books."

"I can't ask you to buy me things," I said.

"We like buying things," Parker said. "Especially if Reuben is paying."

"If you want books, you can have books," Reuben said to me.

I got the feeling that if I asked for the twin's heads on a silver platter, he'd give them to me. Fortunately for all concerned, that wasn't something I wanted or needed. On the contrary, it was difficult not to like Hunter and Parker. With them, there was no pretence. What you saw was what you got. I appreciated that.

"I…like romance books," I admitted with a shrug. The old Mina, before Kurt, believed in happily ever afters. That was probably why everyone believed my father's story that I ran off to get married. Behind every good lie was a dash of truth.

What did I believe now? Did it matter? I just wanted to lose myself in the pages for a little while. No one could blame me for that.

"Get her romance books," Reuben said to the twins. "Whatever she wants."

"As if you won't read them too," Hunter teased.

Reuben looked back at him, a bland expression on his face. "My library is missing having books with covers made from the hide of human male twins. I could have that rectified, if you like."

Hunter and Parker both laughed.

"You wouldn't do that to us," Parker said. "You love us too much."

Reuben grunted. "Don't tempt me." He nodded his dismissal and turned his back to them.

They both made faces at him behind his back, then grinned at me before walking out of the room, their arms over each other's shoulders.

"Sometimes I wonder if they're adopted," Reuben said. "Then I remember, they're my half-brothers. It must be something from their mother's DNA."

"I envy them," I said softly. "They seem to love life."

Reuben sank into a chair and sighed heavily. "That they do. So should you." He pressed his lips together, then glanced down at the bags. "If you don't like anything in there, we can order more. Whatever you need."

I perched on the edge of another chair and reached for one of the bags.

"I need clothes, but if I open one of these and Kurt's head is inside…”

The sides of his eyes crinkled slightly, like he was holding back a smile. "We'd both thoroughly enjoy that. Unfortunately, we haven't found him yet. I have all of my resources on it. It won't be long. He can't hide from us forever."

At some point, I was going to have to use my own resources, but in the meantime I opened the bag and started to pull out various items of clothes. Mostly black trousers, black jeans, black skirts and lighter coloured blouses and T-shirts. Amongst those was lacy underwear in a variety of designs and sizes.

Every item looked expensive. The twins might not have exaggerated when they mentioned maxing out Reuben's credit card. Without access to my funds, I had little choice but to accept the extravagant gift. I'd draw more attention to myself dressed the way I was, than in the clothes stacked neatly in either of the bags.

"You didn't have to do this," I said, holding a black mohair jumper up to myself.

"You might prefer old track pants and T-shirts, but we'd soon run out of them," Reuben said dryly. "You'll feel more yourself in clothes of your own." His ice blue eyes regarded me intently, searching for my reaction, reading my response and taking note of everything.

For some reason, this was important to him, like he'd told the twins exactly what to buy. Like he'd chosen every item to make me look a certain way. The way he wanted me to look. This wasn't just about clothes, this was him making me into something. Moulding me into what he wanted. Claiming me in front of the world.

"I should try them on," I said. I stood and picked up both bags.

Reuben quickly rose too. "Do you need help?"

"I can manage," I said. Neither bag looked too heavy. If they were, I might have refused his help anyway. This was a small thing, but I needed to do it by myself. To prove to myself I wasn't a broken doll. "Thank you."

"It was my pleasure," he said, his voice smoother than silk. He'd be thinking of every centimetre of fabric as it slid against my skin, touching me in a way he wanted to, but couldn't. Not yet. If I was, when I was, ready to give myself to a man, he'd be ready. Ready to fill me, touch me. Claim me.