by Clare Murray
“Now, sweet thing,” Cam whispered, breaking the kiss. “Let yourself go.”
She hardly needed his encouragement. Russ gathered her to him as she rode through the orgasm, keeping his hand cupped against her sex. Cam withdrew his fingers, and the brothers swapped positions so smoothly that she hardly noticed.
Her eyes closed as Russ kissed her, a gentle caress that he broke almost immediately. It felt like possession, like he’d accepted her as his. But that was a crazy line of thinking. These days, relationships took a distinct second seat to survival. Could she really afford to distract herself like this?
“I could use a shower,” Abby managed.
“Conveniently, there’s one back here,” Cam said.
She let them lead her past the beds to the bathroom, which was surprisingly large, given that it was tacked on to the back of a shack. Self-consciously, she let her jeans fall to the floor, her underwear following shortly afterward. She’d bathed the afternoon of her escape, but she wanted to sluice off the memories of Headquarters—or try to, at least.
Abby peeled off her jacket, shirt and bra, tossing them atop the backpack that contained her personal belongings. Although she’d been extremely intimate with the Twins only a minute ago, the urge to cover her breasts was strong. She compromised by presenting her back to the men, who remained at the open door to the bathroom.
The shower itself was large enough for two—but not three. Abby hesitated on its threshold, wondering how to proceed. Then Cam withdrew, though his gaze was heated, and Russ lingered only a moment longer.
“See you in a few minutes, Abby,” he said.
You can watch. The words were on the tip of her tongue, but the spray of tepid water killed the moment and the door closed behind the Twins before she spoke. She reached for the homemade shampoo, sparing a rueful thought for the strawberry-scented stuff she used to love. Suds spilled across her body and washed down the drain.
She wished they could wash away the months at Headquarters.
Once she was finished, she wrapped herself in a not-so-fluffy towel, bundled up her clothes, and went back into the bedroom. Russ lay on a bottom bunk, situated so that he could watch both the door and her. He greeted her with a nod.
“Cam will be back in a little while. You got fresh clothes?” he asked.
“In my bag.” She had one spare set left. They’d been talking about implementing uniforms at Headquarters, probably fueled by one of the senator’s obsession with maids. Abby shuddered at the thought of wearing a French maid outfit.
“You okay?”
Russ was still watching her. Abby glanced up, met his gaze, decided not to lie. “Can’t stop thinking about all the stuff at Headquarters.”
“You’ll always carry that shit with you. Can’t erase it. But you can get past it.”
“How?” She sank onto the opposite bed.
“Couple of ways. You can drink hard. Or you can act out, rely on external stuff to eclipse all those thoughts. I know Twins who do that. They’re off the rails, because being on the rails takes them to a destination too goddamn painful to handle.”
Abby nodded, bunching up the edges of the ratty towel in both hands. She’d seen plenty of acting out. Alcoholism, not so much. A person might be able to steal foodstuffs in Headquarters, but the senators were touchy as hell about their alcohol.
“Or,” Russ said, continuing, “you can make a conscious decision not to let your baggage define you as a person.”
“Easier said than done,” she snapped.
“Yeah, most stuff is. I’m not saying you ought to put that shit aside and waltz off like it never happened. That’s yet another coping mechanism, but it’ll bite you in the ass at some point.”
The shadows in his eyes made her think he had personal experience with that. She waited him out, interested despite herself in what he had to say.
“Do you still think of yourself as a slave?”
“Indentured servant,” was her automatic reply. Headquarters had banned the term “slave,” even in private conversation. Apparently the veneer of civilization wasn’t entirely gone.
Russ gestured to the manacles still around her ankles. She’d grown used to them. Yet now they hung heavy, the thin metal slightly warmed by the water of the shower. They’d never truly impeded her day-to-day chores. She’d gotten used to walking with a slightly shorter stride, adjusting to the ever-present chain. Now that the chain was gone, she realized just how much of an impediment it had been.
“No. I don’t think of myself as a slave,” she whispered. “But…”
“But they did their damnedest to sculpt you into one,” Russ said when she couldn’t continue. He came over to her, lifted the towel from her body, and ruffled her damp hair. “When was the last time anyone mentioned you have gorgeous hair?”
“My mom, probably.” Abby smiled ruefully. She reached up to tug at it and winced. She had her mother’s curls—with the faintest touch of auburn, courtesy of her redheaded father. Going more than a day without working out tangles meant sporting a bird’s nest, so she’d have to dig out her brush this evening.
Russ draped the towel over her shoulders, sinking down next to her on the mattress of the double bed. Although he made no move to touch her, nor to ogle her naked body, Abby got the sense that he would, in a heartbeat, if she invited him to. She swallowed.
“I’ll have to get used to living on the outside, I guess.” She reached for her bag, pulling out a set of spare clothes. There had been some perks at Headquarters, like access to washing machines. Still, one grew used to scrubbing clothes by hand even if homemade detergent wasn’t as nice-smelling as pre-Invasion stuff.
Abby sometimes wished she’d done something wild and crazy when she was younger, like skydiving or backpacking in Peru. Now she didn’t even know if Machu Picchu even existed anymore, or if the ancient ruins had been obliterated by a descending mothership. As for skydiving, that had lost its appeal. Hiding from aliens gave her all the adrenaline rush she needed for a lifetime.
Russ’s gaze lingered upon the manacles still around her ankles. She pulled on a pair of pants, self-consciously tugging the cuffs over the metal. Having no connecting chain was a blessed relief, at least, but she could hardly wait to get rid of the bands.
“Need to get those off you,” Russ said abruptly. “They’re sure to have tools here we can borrow.”
“I don’t know about that.” Abby kept her tone light. “The way Uther looked at us made me think he’d charge us for the air we breathe.”
“He can try.” There was a flash of hardness behind the Twin’s eyes, reminding her of the men’s formidable reputations. Despite that, she hoped neither of them would be called upon to fight.
“Uther actively encourages infighting,” Russ said. “It takes the spotlight off his bad leadership if everyone else is kept busy settling petty shit.”
Abby got to her feet, restless at the mention of Uther. She hated people who played games. “So suddenly the big bad Twins walk in, and he’s got a new distraction for all the unhappy people he’s mismanaging?”
“That’s about the size of it, yeah.”
Pausing by the door, Abby regarded him. She was torn between going back to sit next to him and taking a walk outside to explore her new surroundings. If Russ would let her go out, that was. His eyes had sharpened when she headed to the door, the mattress under his thighs creaking as he sat forward. She decided to test him by reaching out for the knob.
“Abby.”
“Russ.”
Would he forbid her to leave? Half of her wished he would. The other half was too raw from her experience at Headquarters. So she simply stood there, gaze fixed upon him, in an almost-challenge.
He met it by rising to his feet and stalking toward her, never breaking eye contact. His body slotted against hers, warm and powerful and way too sexy. His
head tilted downward, and she could feel the slight gust of his warm breath against her ear.
“If you’re going out, I need to come with you to ensure your safety.”
“Okay.” Her agreement was breathy, instant. She cleared her throat, abashed at her immediate capitulation. “I’m sure I’d be fine, though.”
His fingers skimmed across her shoulders, settling at the small of her back. “Uther’s men have a reputation.”
“Only the men?”
“Whoever carries out his orders. Those soldiers outside don’t trust him. This City is a major crossroads—if the soldiers cede control to Uther, they might as well be handing over the reins to highway bandits.”
“So why does the government let him stay in power?” Abby asked.
“They have to pick their battles.” Russ’s lips twisted as if in disgust. “Up until a few weeks ago, those battles seemed to focus on controlling us.”
“The Twins?”
“Yes. One of the top scientists majorly screwed up a mission and defected to the Shadow Feds. Maybe he was a traitor all this time—that’s the talk, anyway. The Twins involved in that mess nearly died. Afterward? The first thing the top brass addressed was the fact that those Twins had brought back a woman and were insisting on keeping her with them.”
“Nice priorities,” Abby said.
Privately, it sounded as if those so-called top scientists weren’t that much worse than the Shadow Feds who still labeled themselves senators.
“Yeah, I’ll say.” His fingers made a movement against her shirt that might have been a stilled caress.
Abby opened the door and headed out before she could dwell too much upon what seemed to be blossoming between them—between all three of them, she reminded herself. If she thought about it too much, it sounded too crazy.
But then, life itself was crazy these days.
Apart from the warehouses, there wasn’t much to the area. The vehicles were well-kept, but the people she saw were in poor shape. A pair of children ran past, carrying a worn ball as they cast suspicious glances at Abby and Russ over their shoulders. They scattered a small flock of chickens, who squawked indignantly before settling again. The birds seemed in good condition, at least, with bright eyes and shiny feathers.
It would behoove Uther to take care of his chickens, though, Abby thought cynically. They’d produce better eggs, which would provide more food for him. She sidled past a large hen and continued onward.
“Cam says we can go have a bite to eat in the kitchen,” Russ told her as they rounded a corner. “This way.”
The mention of food made her stomach grind almost painfully. She immediately adjusted her course, nearly bumping Cam as he emerged abruptly from a doorway. The Twin’s gaze was fixed upon his brother’s—why was he scowling? She sensed Russ’s tension from the way he stiffened, and his returning stare was equally as fierce. The Twins squared off silently.
Arguing mind-to-mind, she realized.
“You know it’s rude to exclude someone from a conversation, don’t you?” Abby stepped forward to slip her hand into the crook of Cam’s arm, effectively leading both men forward and breaking the moment. It took her eyes a moment to adjust to the relative gloom of the kitchen, but when she looked at the men, their scowls had lessened.
What had that been about?
Shaking her head, she walked between them toward a long wooden table. Given a bit of space, she would have chosen to sit across from the men, but they helped her swing her legs over a bench seat, sandwiching her in between them. It unnerved her that she couldn’t read these men. Couldn’t tell whether something was really wrong, or only mildly so. Ironic that, less than an hour ago, she’d practically begged them both to touch her. Now they were caging her in. Or protecting her, depending on the view.
Maybe they should have had a get-to-know-you chat before she’d let them bring her to almost-screaming orgasm.
A woman crossed the room to plonk three mugs in front of them while balancing a tray of food with her other hand. That deft handling of cutlery suggested she’d been a waitress in the pre-Invasion days; the hardness to her face told Abby the woman wasn’t someone to mess with. She flicked her blue eyes upward, meeting Abby’s gaze.
“Soup today, like it was yesterday and the day before.” She added something in a foreign language.
“Say what?” Abby asked. Next to her, Russ solicitously stirred her soup until she plucked the spoon out of his fingers.
“Cabbage soup is my fare. My Russian baba was fond of the saying.” The woman hooked a chair opposite them and took a seat. “I’m Katya.”
They introduced themselves around mouthfuls of soup and coarse bread. The soup wasn’t thick, but it was salty and decently full of vegetables. Drinks consisted of diluted powdered orange juice. Despite the poor repast, Abby felt much better by the time she put her spoon down.
“You sure walked in at a funny time.” Katya continued to regard them from across the table.
“Why’s that?” Russ asked.
“Everyone’s on edge, thinking Uther’s going to be challenged for leadership. So is it true? Is the government out to assassinate him?”
“Not through us.” Russ took a gulp from his mug. “Is that what Uther’s been saying?”
Some of the tension seemed to leave Katya, and she lounged more loosely against the wooden back of her chair. “There’s folk who say we need an Arthur rather than an Uther, so to speak. Long as you guys don’t fancy yourselves the two true kings, I think you’ll be fine.”
“Do you already have a designated Arthur?” Cam asked.
“Can’t answer that.” Katya shrugged, beginning to stack the empty dishes on the tray. “You know, though, you’re a pretty trusting bunch. If one of Uther’s bosom buddies had made this food, it might have been poisoned.”
She cocked her head, sending a chill down Abby’s spine.
“One step ahead of you there. This’ll detect all common poisons to the nearest particle.” Russ held up a small device. Abby’s heartbeat quit galloping and she nearly smiled. Russ hadn’t been smothering her by stirring her soup—he’d been testing for poison.
Katya flashed them a grin. “What about the uncommon ones?”
“Does Uther have access to polonium?”
“No.” She snorted. “He limits himself to ricin and arsenic.”
The tray rattled as Katya got to her feet, carrying the stack of dirty bowls to a sink across the room. Without overtly saying so, she’d established herself as anti-Uther. Abby reminded herself that anti-Uther didn’t necessarily equate to trustworthy, but she was inclined to support Katya if push came to shove. Still, she couldn’t help but needle the other woman.
“So why are you telling us all this?” Abby asked.
Katya looked across the room at the table, raking the Twins with a mercenary gaze. “Over the years, I learned to hedge my bets. But you two? You’re strong enough to put Uther in his place if he tries to pull a power play out of his hat tonight.”
“We’re not here for that kind of shit,” Russ told her.
“Neither am I, but that’s the breaks.” She turned back to the dishes, leaving them to finish the dregs of juice in their mugs.
Cam’s hand stroked a brief caress up Abby’s back, drawing her attention to the fact that both men were getting to their feet. Belatedly, she joined them. “Are we going back to our bedroom?”
Their sudden smiles nearly made her blush. She pulled herself together as Katya approached. The look on the other woman’s face instantly chilled the mood.
“Are you married?” she asked Abby.
“Nope.”
“Then you’re fair game for Uther or one of his henchmen. I’d suggest you stick to the guest shed.”
Abby raised her eyebrows. “It’s like that, is it?”
“Yes. Can’t
think why people want change around here.” She fixed them with a long look, then snapped back into hostess mode. “Let me give you some bread and cheese for later—that’ll allow you to avoid having to eat with everyone else. Wish I could give you some meat, but Uther’s buddies get to pick through all the best parts before the hoi polloi are allowed to serve themselves.”
“Bread and cheese is fine. Thanks.” Abby took the packet of food Katya handed over.
“Watch yourselves,” was the woman’s parting shot as they left the kitchen.
Chapter Five
Lounging on the bottom bunk, Russ split his attention between his commtab and Abby, who was taking the opportunity for a late-afternoon nap. She was curled up on her side, head pillowed on her arm, one bare foot poking out through the slats of the top bunk. Not for the first time, Russ wished her head was pillowed on his chest.
She’d been so sweet in his arms, gasping out those needy cries as he and Cam had built her up. He’d been all set to resist her charms until she’d turned those eyes of hers upon him, all but begging him to join in. Russ’s nostrils flared.
“Is this going to be a problem for us?”
He shot the question at his Twin, unable to hold back any longer. On the double bed, Cam raised his head.
“You know I don’t want it to be, but I can’t help being jealous. It’s a stupid, knee-jerk reaction, I know, except…I’ve never felt this way before.”
“Neither have I.”
“Trust us to pick the best timing to jump into a relationship…”
Russ nearly cracked a smile. “Yeah.”
“There’s a whole bunch of politics going on here. Uther’s strong, and a lot of people will roll with whoever has the most iron of fists. But Snake Eyes gave me the impression there’s a schism, and Katya all but told us there’d be some kind of a revolt soon.”
“It’ll go down tonight, most likely. We need to make sure the van’s ready to roll out. Worse comes to worst, we can survive the night outside the walls.”