2053, eleven years after the Invasion
The 10:04 to Scar City was late. That didn’t matter much, since Marisol Aquino was the only person in the station waiting for the train, but it certainly didn’t set her at ease. She clutched her nonrefundable ticket, trying not to crumple it as she paced along the platform.
Nobody was here to see her off, which meant nobody witnessed her trying to hold it together. Panic attacks were never fun. Trying to stave one off meant lots of deep breathing and self-distraction.
Mari had been able to half convince herself that being aboard a train didn’t really mean she would be outside and unprotected. She would still be surrounded by metal, enclosed in relative security as the carriages hurtled down the line at over a hundred miles per hour. They were scheduled to arrive before dark. So, she told herself, an alien attack was impossible.
Of course, if the train didn’t arrive soon, the latter point was moot.
Shuddering at the thought of traveling after sundown, Mari went over to the battered notice board. Its digital display no longer worked. Wooden plaques hung next to magnetic numbers, each with the name of a city engraved upon it.
The word Reno had a big scratch mark through it, and someone had scrawled Scar City in permanent black marker. It was both a slap in authority’s face and a reminder that the world had been irrevocably changed. An alien mothership had destroyed half of Reno, leaving the city scarred but not broken.
One deep breath. Two. Whatever the rumors of Scar City’s troubles, the place had walls, and she would be safe behind them. Once she’d cobbled a little money together, she could go anywhere.
On her third breath, Mari heard the distant whistle of a train. Most likely it had been held up at the gate. Four minutes late by the station’s clock, three by her father’s favorite watch. The masculine watch looked odd on her wrist, but she hadn’t been able to bring herself to sell it. Not yet.
Some people would call her crazy for leaving Flagstaff. Even if it was isolationist, it was a solid, safe City with a growing economy. Mari would be comfortable enough here…if she married Tim Johnston. Since the man had twenty years on her and kept a mistress, she’d already told him a big fat no.
But Tim was nothing if not persistent. He’d called upon her three times this week, his beet-red face staring disapprovingly at the shipping container she called home. Each time, Mari had declined to walk with him. The third time, he threatened her with eviction.
“Shall we see how you like living on the streets, girl? I know the man who owns this land. So you think long and hard about marriage, before it’s too late and nobody wants you.”
Mari had to admit that the offer was tempting in some ways. In return for tolerating Tim’s mistress and bearing him a child or three, she would get a solid roof over her head and three squares a day. That was more than she’d had for the past year.
Not that she would have traded nursing her dying father for false comfort, but pain meds cost a bomb even on the black market. Now she was down to her last few dollars. She fingered the watch on her wrist again. There was a shortage of jobs in this City—at least ones that didn’t require her to leave the walls. It was time to move on.
So there was no time to feel sorry for herself, no time for panic attacks. When the locomotive chuffed to a halt in a cloud of steam, Mari handed over her ticket to the conductor. Then she picked up her suitcases and boarded the passenger carriage. It was an old, repurposed Amtrak single-decker. The rest of the train consisted of freight cars. There wasn’t a lot of passenger traffic in and out of Scar City. Given the fact that the City lived up to its name in two ways—scars and scarcity, Mari wasn’t surprised.
She chose a seat near the middle, but she could have chosen almost any other seat. The carriage was empty save for two men sprawled nearby. They sat across from each other, so they were together. She avoided their gazes, avoided even looking at them. She just wanted to get to her destination without trouble.
Mari adjusted the holster at her waist, keeping the handle of the Glock ready to draw. As the whistle blew, she stowed her bags and seated herself, disdaining to look out upon the City she was leaving. There was nothing left for her here save the ashes of her parents…and she had been too cowardly to venture outside the walls to place flowers atop their wooden memorials.
A harsh squeal of the whistle heralded the train’s departure. It rattled out of the station and across a bridge before coming to a halt again. That wasn’t troubling, because she knew what was going on—the guards ahead were opening the double gates in the huge wall that protected the City against alien attack. In a few minutes, they would be in ungoverned territory, in the middle of an openness that made her stomach clench just thinking about it.
Once, Mari had loved traveling. She had reveled in road trips up to the Oregon cabin her parents owned. Even after the Invasion, she hadn’t minded working jobs outside the walls, tending stock and helping harvest crops. Everybody knew the aliens only came out at night.
Carter’s death had changed complacency to fear. He’d died when the sun was at its zenith.
When they moved again, the whistle tooted only once, then went quiet as the train picked up speed. They would now average a hundred miles an hour—too fast for even the most determined predator to catch them—throughout the rest of the day and into the late afternoon. Then they’d reach Scar City, last stop before the Sierra Nevadas.
She’d be lying to herself if she didn’t admit she was still skirting the edge of a panic attack. It had been years since she’d left the safety of a City. Mari remembered the Invasion as a blur of horror, a long, extended evacuation from place to place that ended in the death of her mother soon after they settled in Flagstaff.
Her father was—had been, she corrected herself—a notable scientist, one who had been peripherally involved in multi-government projects. Those projects had resulted in the creation of the Twins, genetically modified so-called super-soldiers. Tabloids had heralded them as saviors, playing up their enhanced physical abilities. In those pre-Invasion days, when the motherships were mere blips on human telescopes, they’d seemed like gods.
Afterward, when half the world lay in ruin, there was much speculation as to whether there’d been enough Twins in the first place. Some were of the opinion that governments had turned to infighting, competing with each other instead of collaborating to fend off the approaching motherships. Conspiracy theorists loudly proclaimed Twins had never existed in the first place.
Mari wasn’t sure she truly believed in them herself, since she’d never seen one with her own eyes. Her father had never been one to dwell upon his old life, so Mari had never dared to ask him whether the reports were true—that the Twins had been instrumental in saving entire cities, that their superhuman reflexes and strict training made them weapons that even the birdbrained aliens feared.
She toyed with her unused seat belt and peered surreptitiously at the men in the corner. Panic was fading to deep anxiety, so she amused herself by wondering if they might be Twins, with a capital T. Certainly they were identical—well, not quite, perhaps, upon careful, if furtive, examination. There was a scar near one man’s hairline, visible only because the sun hit him just right through the window.
Mari dropped her gaze before she attracted their notice, then found with a little thrill that she could study them almost as well by looking at their reflections in the window. Both had closely cropped dark hair and physiques that gave even her jaded heart a jolt of excitement. Clad in matching leather jackets and hard-wearing steel-toed boots, they sat casually, although each man gripped the underside of their seat as if steadying themselves. They wore their seat belts cinched tightly across their identical black jeans. If the rumors were correct, the muscles underneath their clothes were rock hard and far more efficient than those of the heftiest human bodybuilder.
But Mari didn’t believe half those rumors. Information these days was spotty, traveling as it did by word-of-mouth and what remained of electronic communications. Some places had taken to using carrier pigeons. Others relied on telegraph lines. Very rural communities even used signal fires.
She looked closer at the reflection, wondering where their guns were. Twins were supposed to be superb fighters, and there was enough gossip flying around about them making the difference in fights that even she believed there was a kernel of truth there. Curious, she dared a direct look at them.
Unexpectedly, the train entered a tunnel, plunging the carriage into semidarkness. When it emerged, both men were looking her way. Her gaze tangled with theirs before she could avert her eyes. Mari drew in a sharp breath. Surely she was mistaken, but the pupils of their eyes seemed to be slitted like a cat’s. Twins were renowned for their ability to see in the dark…
And for their tendency to share women.
Mari let out a yelp as the train lurched abruptly from side to side. Since she was sitting on the outside seat with nothing to brace herself against, she tumbled into the aisle, rapping her head sharply on the edge of a seat. Pain made her dizzy.
What happened? Had they crashed? Panic reared its ugly head, reminding her of how vulnerable they were out there in the open. Mari clutched at the seats, trying to right herself amidst the still-lurching train.
“Hey, easy now.” Strong arms wrapped around her, drawing her upright. Another pair of hands went to her head, probing for any cuts. Scenery still flashed by. So they hadn’t crashed—or even slowed down for that matter.
“I—I’m fine.” Mari detested the quiver in her voice, but she was close to tears. Last night she had allowed herself to cry for the first time in ages, knowing she was leaving the city she’d lived in since her mother’s death. Not that she was fond of Flagstaff, but it had been all she’d known for the past seven years.
Going to Scar City was a gamble, and a risky one at that. If she couldn’t find what she was looking for there, she’d have to sell herself into marriage as a broodmare to a man who only wanted her for children to repopulate the world. If she were very unlucky, she’d be tied to a man who’d insist upon knocking her up every time she became fertile.
“You’ll marry me,” Tim had insisted. “I’m the only man you’ll ever get.”
Since Tim was wealthy by today’s standards, Mari knew the man was right. He would drive off any competition for her hand through threats and intimidation. She shivered.
“You’re not fine. You’re still trembling.” The second voice came from above, and she realized belatedly that both men were tending to her. Through a sheen of tears, she looked up, making her second faux pas of the journey so far.
“Twins. You really are Twins,” she blurted. The one holding her started to withdraw, and Mari impulsively reached out to grip his arm. “Thank you for watching out for me.”
His gaze heated, dark green eyes hyper-focusing on her like a beast sighting prey. Even so, Mari forced herself to remain still, her grip lightening so that only the pads of her fingers touched his forearm. His muscles were impressively thick. No wonder he could lift her so easily. At five foot eight, Mari hadn’t been carried since she’d been a child, but the man placed her into a seat as if she were one.
The man she was touching spoke. “I’m Finn.”
Mari turned instinctively to the other man, the one who had placed her back into the seat.
“Gareth.” He searched her with the same intensity his brother did, then sat down across from her, knees bumping against hers. Far from being annoying, it was rather companionable. And after all the walking she’d done that morning, she was glad to let her legs rest against his.
Finn took the seat next to her so that she was hemmed in against the window. Without asking, he reached over and clipped the seat belt around her waist.
“Keep that on,” he told her. “The tracks can be bumpy.”
Slightly discombobulated, Mari frowned at the passing landscape. Panic rose again. She began to babble. “I don’t see any evidence of aliens. Where do they hide during the day? There’s no houses out here.”
“The Barks can dig huge burrows, so they aren’t entirely reliant on roofs to keep the sun off.” Finn referred to the aliens by their derogatory name. It was said they communicated like dogs, with varying whimpers, whines and howls. Others said they physically resembled a cross between bunnies and sharks, hence the name. But there were so many rumors around that Mari preferred to believe her own eyes.
Not that she wanted to see an alien in the flesh again. Ever.
She hadn’t known they could dig burrows. The thought filled her with horror. UV light burned alien skin and rendered them blind, so they had to hide during the day and hunt in the night.
It was common knowledge to get behind walls at night. Everyone knew they had to hole up somewhere safe as soon as the sun went down. Not many thought about where the aliens hid during the day. Mari stared out the window, unseeing. Carter had entered that barn to fetch an errant lamb. Neither of them had thought a Bark might be hiding there…
“They can slow their breathing and metabolism right down, so being underground isn’t a problem. You don’t know much about them, do you?”
“Why do you say that?” He was right, of course—most of her knowledge was based on rumors—but she wasn’t entirely without pride.
“Because you carry a gun.”
“Yes, I do. Why is that a problem?”
“Bullets hardly dent Barks. You can gut them like fishes with swords and knives, or brain them with something blunt. Or, preferably, crisp them with lasers. Guns? They’re only good against other people.”
Mari shrugged. “I don’t intend to fight Barks, so I’d say my Glock is still pretty useful.”
“But you clearly aren’t a seasoned traveler,” Finn pressed. “You aren’t holding on while you sit. There’s handles under the seat, and you ought to always have a seat belt on in case we go over a rough section of track.”
“I’m supposed to hold on?” She didn’t mean to sound quite so petulant, but she’d wanted to read the book in her bag, not grip a handle for a thousand miles.
“These trains are fast and solid,” Finn said, paying no mind to her slight churlishness. “They don’t derail without serious provocation, but they do give a hell of a jolt every so often, begging your pardon for my language.”
“Once the Barks realize that destroying the track means hurting us, we’re going to have a bad time of it. Traveling between Cities will be even more dangerous,” Gareth said, his voice low, gravelly.
She looked up at him, instinctively seeking the differences between each Twin. There weren’t many, and she suspected it would take somebody time and energy to detect the subtleties. Still, she noticed that Gareth was quieter, more watchful in comparison to his gregarious brother. Gareth was the one with the scar, perhaps the only clear physical difference between the Twins.
“Who gave you that scar?” The question popped out before she could regulate herself.
“I was defending the wall in Chicago when a couple of Barks got through.” Gareth didn’t seem perturbed by her interest.
“What he means to say is I was a bit slow coming to his defense. I tried to get a matching scar, but I haven’t yet succeeded.” Finn flashed white teeth in a brief grin. “Before, we could pass as each other. Got into a bunch of trouble that way.”
“Got out of more than we got into,” Gareth retorted. He continued to examine Mari, as if he might consider her trouble. She tried not to squirm.
“I don’t mean to keep you, if you want to go sit in your original seats,” she told them. They had the whole carriage to themselves anyhow.
“We’ll stay here, if it’s all the same to you,” Gareth said.
“Sure. Fine.” Mari resisted the urge to pat her hair. The wind at the station had blown some of it loose of its pins, and soft brown strands now drifted across her face. Tim and other men had begun insisting that women wear their hair in certain fashions. They’d also introduced a rudimentary dress code. Women had to wear simple frocks, bonnets optional, or skirts and blouses. Men weren’t so restricted.
Yet another reason to leave the City. One of her closest friends, Simon, had departed a month ago in search of a more tolerant place to live. He had promised to keep in touch, but Mari hadn’t left a forwarding address when she’d abandoned her shipping container. She hadn’t wanted Tim to come after her.
To her surprise, Finn leaned over and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. His touch was exceedingly gentle. “Do you mind us staying with you?”
“No. I—like the company.” She stumbled over the admission, mainly because it was so painfully true. Since her father had died a few months ago, she’d been living alone, subsisting on dwindling savings and income from odd jobs. Sara, her only remaining friend in the City, lived half a mile’s walk away and was often too busy or tired to chat long.
Come to think of it, it had been over a month since Mari had participated in any conversation that lasted more than a few sentences. Even though the circumstances were odd, she was grateful not to be alone in the carriage. Besides, these men were almost painfully handsome, and it had been so long since she’d been able to flirt.
Back home, people organized social gatherings every few months. Lately, they’d begun to devolve. Where once they’d been an excuse to drink and chat, Tim and other like-minded people had co-opted the occasions, turning them into forums for their rants and openly checking out women. Mari had felt uncomfortable and stopped going.
She interlaced her hands in her lap, trying to savor the lingering feeling of the men’s hands on her body. So different from Tim’s pawing. Not that she’d allowed him to touch her beyond briefly holding hands once. Mari missed human contact. For that matter, she’d missed any contact. Being on a one-meal-a-day regimen wasn’t conducive to keeping pets.
Without warning, the train lurched again, throwing her sideways into Finn. Her hands scrabbled at his chest, stilling when his arms wrapped around her, keeping her safe.
“I’m sorry,” she gasped, even as she gripped him tightly. It would be so tempting to stay there for the rest of the ride, to hide her head against his warm chest.
“I’m not sorry.” He grinned at her reaction. “You’re a sweet armful. But I think we’re making Gareth jealous.”
She blinked over at the other Twin, still a little punch-drunk from her earlier fall. “You… He… The rumors.” The rumors were true? Why did that turn her insides to jelly in such a good way?
“We share our women, yes,” Finn said. “It’s a mite rough to be left out of things when you’ve got a constant telepathic bond.”
He helped her upright again. Mari sat back, this time gripping the handles. Not that she was averse to being flung half into Finn’s lap again, but she needed time to process what she’d just heard. Sharing. Christ on a pogo stick, as Simon used to say. That was probably the sexiest thing she’d heard of in years.
The train juddered again, but Mari held firm. She didn’t remember the train ride out of Scar City being this rough, although she’d been a teenager at the time. As she recalled, she’d slept most of the way, having been dragged out of bed at an ungodly hour so that they got to the station first thing.
Her father had masked his fear with briskness, but he hadn’t fooled Mari. He’d been fleeing something. It was as if Scar City had scarred his soul.
“So, um, what other rumors about you are true?” Mari asked, uncomfortably aware that the conversation ball had been dropped. “See-in-the-dark eyes, iron muscles, ability to fly?”
“Negative on the last two.” Gareth was quieter than his brother, watched her more intently, as if he were trying to figure something out. “We don’t share all our women either. Only the ones who interest both of us.”
“Oh. So you aren’t married?” She winced, mentally kicking herself for sounding like she was flirting. Her area had become prudish about such matters—more so than the other Cities she’d lived in. Many of the young women she knew, Sara included, married young and got started on childbearing to repopulate the earth. Arranged marriages were back in vogue, short engagements the norm.
There were also unscrupulous people who kidnapped single women and trafficked them to men looking for a fertile wife, although that kind of thing happened only in the rougher places.
Like Scar City.
“It’s been difficult to find a woman who will accept both of us for a fling, let alone marriage.” Finn spoke again, leaning casually back in his seat. One hand rested atop his seat belt, the other was wrapped around the handle. Her father had mentioned that the government considered the Twins “valuable” and kept them under strict surveillance—at least in the pre-Invasion days.
So what was she thinking, engaging them in a scandalous conversation such as this? Struggling to come up with a response, she peeled her fingers off the handle in order to rake hair out of her eyes again.
Another lurch propelled her in Gareth’s direction this time. It was as if the train were conspiring to keep her in the men’s arms. Behind her, Finn reached for her again, pulling her against him as if she’d never left. This time she accepted his embrace. It was better than rolling around the train after all, and she really was annoyed at having to grip a handle all the time. Why couldn’t they put better, more comfortable seat belts in? These lap belts were hardly a restraint at all.
“Are you married?” Finn asked, raising an eyebrow.
“If you think to ask for my hand in marriage, you should know that I have no dowry,” Mari said, the well-practiced line rolling off her tongue with the ease of long usage. That was another rule Tim’s group had implemented. Women with monetary assets transferred it all to their husband. Fathers with eligible daughters handed over money, land or animals to the new husband. Cries of sexism went unheeded. Now, barely anybody bothered to bring it up in the first place. They abided, or they left.
“Money doesn’t concern us,” Gareth said. “We find you beautiful. Sexy. Finn won’t shut up in my head about it.”
Mari blinked, hands tightening around the grip. Flustered. She was actually flustered. But it was nice, if strange, having their undivided attention.
“Are you always this forward with women?” She winced internally. Forward? Living under Tim’s rule had turned her into some sort of querulous spinster.
“Only the ones we like.”
“We haven’t had much practice in the dating arena,” Finn said, flicking a stern glance at Gareth. “I apologize if we’re coming across as rude.”
“All right,” Mari said, allowing herself to relax slightly against the seat. Then she realized he’d moved closer to her, probably cushioning her during the last train lurch. She was wedged half against him, half against the seat. It was remarkably comfortable.
This was such a strange situation, but he really was comfortable. She also didn’t get the impression that these two would take advantage of her. They were far blunter than she was used to. Far more direct. From what she knew of Twins, however, their social life was limited to other Twins and the scientists who nominally controlled them.
All the same, she’d never considered what it might be like to have two men at once. The only person she’d ever had a crush on had been banished from the City by Tim. Tim couldn’t stand up to Finn and Gareth, though. He’d probably turn tail and run upon seeing them. After turning purple. Then they’d carry her off somewhere safe, and…
“We also can’t help but be concerned about your visit to Scar City,” Finn said, and her vague fantasies skidded to a halt.
Scar City—formerly Reno—had been one of the first Cities to erect a protective wall against the invading aliens. The city was scarred, irrevocably so. She remembered it as forbidding, austere, but not unsafe. She and her parents had spent nearly two years there, having fled from the Pacific Northwest.
“What’s your reasoning?” Mari kept her voice carefully neutral. It was too late to go back to Flagstaff. She didn’t even have the money for a return ticket.
“The place has gone downhill in the past few years. Lack of resources pits human against human. There’s violence within and without. It’s dangerous there.” Finn’s muscles rippled against her hands, as if he were preparing for a fight.
“So why are you two going?” Mari asked, hoping to deflect personal questions.
“A mission.” Gareth shrugged as if missions were a routine thing. “The powers-that-be want information on an academic who used to live there. Since it’s dangerous, they sent us instead of going themselves. Who better to question junkies?”
“It’s our third time in the last six months,” Finn added. “Probably our last too.”
“Junkies?” Mari asked.
“A fair amount of the population is addicted to Turq,” Gareth said, naming a synthetic drug she vaguely remembered hearing about, back when news was more easily come by. “The stuff’s readily available there—more so than food.”
Scar City must have changed a fair bit over the past seven years, she mused. It had been on the wild side when she and her parents had lived there, but it hadn’t felt overly dangerous. It hadn’t been anything like Seattle when it was under sustained alien attack, with everyone running and screaming…
The train slowed as it took a series of switchbacks. As she swayed in the seat, leaning against Finn, Mari realized she’d dropped the thread of conversation and the Twins were looking at her. With a gulp, she remembered they could communicate telepathically. Were they…talking about her?
“Do you think the person you’re looking for is still there?” she asked, trying to get the conversation rolling again.
Finn shook his head. “The man’s not in Scar City any longer, no. We’re trying to find out where he might have gone. That’s harder than it seems.”
Mari thought of her friend who’d gone east. She’d likely never see Simon again. His mother might never see him again either. She’d cried on Mari’s shoulder for a week after Simon had caught his train out of there.
“Did he have any family?” she asked.
“Our records show that he had a wife and daughter—but that was pre-Invasion information. When he contacted our Chicago bureau, he told them he had important information on a possible alien device. By the time they tried to follow up, he’d left the area.”
Mari tensed against Finn’s side, earning a calculated look from him. An alien device. How many times had her father used those very words in late-night rants to her mother? Mari rubbed a hand across her eyes. Why were these men looking for her father?
The silence began to drag. Mari wished the train would provide a distraction by lurching, but it stayed steady, rolling swiftly down the tracks.
“We’re looking for traces of Dr. Jorge Aquino,” Gareth said. “He was a scientist.”
Both men watched her like hawks. She kept her best poker face, trying to remember if she’d told them her name. No—she hadn’t introduced herself, and they hadn’t pressed. Her mind raced. Dad had called the government—or what remained of it—to talk about the alien device he thought he’d found?
“I—I guess there might be census records still around,” she said. The lame response probably didn’t fool them. If she’d managed to play it cool, she might have gotten away with pretending there was nothing out of the ordinary.
“Or someone, somewhere, might know something.” Gareth’s gaze remained steady upon her.
“The government did authorize us to offer a small reward to anyone who helps us find him,” Finn added.
When she didn’t respond to that, Gareth’s eyes softened. Mari flicked a gaze between the brothers. She wanted to trust them. Her gut trusted them. They found her beautiful, Gareth had said. Sexy, even. She might have melted at that had she not been so unused to such direct flirting.
But she didn’t trust the government. For all she knew, that “reward” Finn mentioned consisted of a jail cell and a diet of bread and water.
So she responded to Gareth with a bare nod. Split her attention between the two men, an easy task since they were both handsome as the rock stars who’d once adorned magazine covers. Besides, Mari wasn’t obligated to tell them anything. In any case, soon she would be on her own again, in an unfamiliar City.
“Do you have business in Scar City?” Finn asked.
Glad for the change of subject, Mari shook her head. “No. I’m relocating.”
“You’re moving there?” Gareth’s voice had an edge to it.
“Couldn’t afford the rent in Flagstaff any longer.” She kept her voice casual. In truth, she was after whatever her father had left behind in the City. He’d been delirious at the end. She’d half bankrupted herself to get him precious pain medication. It was worth it to see the lines of his face relax, to see his fever-bright eyes clear a little. And then he’d talked—spoken of his work and the world before the invasion. She’d soaked up every word, knowing the day would come, all too soon, when she’d never hear his voice again.
On the second to last day, he’d told her what he’d left behind in Scar City was important. Valuable. Valuable enough, she hoped, to buy a little place for her to live. Somewhere safe—maybe on the East Coast. If she got lucky, she might even find Simon out there.
The Twins were both looking at her, although they were quiet. Communicating privately? Mari fiddled with her lap belt, reminding herself that she’d chosen this route. Better this than marriage to Tim.
“You have no family?” Gareth asked abruptly.
“Nobody alive.” Unless she counted a few second cousins in Canada.
“No husband?” That was from Finn.
“Who would want me without a dowry?” Tim had made it more than clear that nobody would—except him.
“We would.” Bluntness seemed to be Gareth’s forte.
“If that’s how you propose, it’s no wonder you’re having a difficult time finding a wife.” Mari folded her arms a little shakily. It was nice to be wanted—by two men, no less—but reality these days was a harsh master. Besides, they were clearly just flirting, in a rather heavy way. Not creepy, though, not like the men who used to catcall her on the way home from work. She got the distinct impression they’d both back off whenever she asked them to.
If she asked them to. Liberated from Tim’s almost constant scrutiny, Mari felt free and a little wild. This was the beginning of a new chapter of her life. That and the unfamiliar environment combined to make this feel less than real. Like a steamy dream come to life.
“Given that you’re the first woman we wholly agree we both want for once, it’s not surprising Finn brought it up,” Gareth said. “He doesn’t beat around the bush.”
“Well, we’re here for the next”—Mari checked her watch—“nine hours. I’m sure you’ll be heartily tired of my presence by then.”
“Is that a challenge?” they asked simultaneously
Mari swallowed, opted for honesty. “I don’t know.”
* * * * *
“She’s likely a virgin. Some of those human Cities were catapulted right back to the Stone Age. Flagstaff was unfortunately one of them. Let’s watch our step.”
Gareth’s words prompted Finn to slow down. The sweet girl next to him was tempting, though. So tempting. He could lean down with ease, steal a kiss. One kiss.
“I know. But she wants us, too, I can sense it. We just need to move slowly, make sure she’s okay with us.”
Finn traced a lazy caress across her upper arm, relishing the shiver he provoked. She didn’t retreat from him, though. That was important.
“We enjoy challenges,” he told her.
“I do as well. But not when they come with long-term repercussions.” Her voice was breathy now as she responded to his continued light touches. She even leaned into him—and he took the opportunity to pull her close, draping an arm around her waist as she pressed into his side.
“Long-term commitments,” Gareth corrected.
“I hardly know anything about you.” Although her heartbeat galloped, she remained still against him, if not entirely relaxed.
“We can rectify that,” Finn said. Neither of the Twins was of a mind to dismiss fate. All alone on a train carriage with a beautiful woman they both wanted? Well. There was a first time for everything.
“As long as we get it right,” Gareth sent. Of the two of them, he was the more serious—and the pickiest. Only a few women had ever caught Gareth’s eye. None of them could hold a candle to the instant attraction this girl provoked—for them both.
Despite the gun she wore at her waist, she seemed vulnerable, her wide chocolate-brown eyes betraying a slight anxiety—and anticipation, he noticed with some relief. She certainly felt the chemistry between them, although she wouldn’t realize its significance.
They did. They’d never before found a woman they’d both been immediately drawn to. Would she be someone they could share without complication?
Finn looked at her gun again, frowning. That wouldn’t do her much good in Scar City. The humans there gave no quarter. Armed robbery occurred on the streets in broad daylight.
And after dark, unspeakable danger lurked.
Finn held her a little tighter. It wouldn’t be long before the Barks overran Scar City. They were far too determined to get in, and the wall around the city would fall sooner rather than later. Every night it grew weaker, crumbling a little with every tunnel the Barks tried to dig under it. The wall was shored up by day, of course, but it wouldn’t be long before there were serious problems.
“We can get out if it falls,” Gareth sent. He looked at the woman, his brow furrowed. His thoughts were clear. She would have a rougher time getting out.
Finn opened his mouth, realizing belatedly that they didn’t even know the girl’s name. “Gareth? You’re the blunt one.”
“Hah.”
“What’s your name?” his brother asked. “You never told us.”
“Mari.” The short pause before she’d answered indicated she didn’t trust them. She was hiding something, that much was clear. If she’d been less attractive, they’d probably have winnowed it out of her by now.
“Attractive? She’s a full-on siren,” Gareth sent. “I’ve never felt like this before.”
Maybe they could seduce it out of her.
“Mari.” Finn watched the way her eyes heated when he said that. Yep, that was her real name. So she hadn’t given them a false identity. Good. Time to up the ante.
In one smooth movement, he lifted her entirely into his lap, relishing her gasp. Gareth took the opportunity to come sit next to them, draping one of her calves across his thigh. She wore much-darned tights under her long, overly conservative skirt, revealing tantalizing hints of bare skin.
“Seducing information out of her is one of your better ideas,” Gareth sent.
“Do they give you surnames?” Mari asked. She referred, of course, to the scientists who had created them.
“No. Some of the Twins take the name of the woman they marry, though.”
“Real subtle,” Gareth sent.
“You were the one who brought marriage up in the first place.”
“Oh. That’s a nice departure from the norm.”
“I love the way she talks,” Finn sent.
Gareth smirked. “I love the way she subtly bucks authority.”
“Not our authority, though.” Finn caressed her, stroking her back, allowing her to grow used to his touch, like gentling a skittish animal. Her backside nestled so sweetly against him that his cock strained against his jeans, aching to spring free. But that would have to wait. This was a fragile rapport they had, and he didn’t want to move too fast.
“Where are you planning to stay in the City?” Gareth inquired. “Wonder how much planning she’s done.”
“She doesn’t strike me as overly spontaneous, Finn replied. She’ll have organized this in advance. Look at all the bags she’s carrying—she wasn’t kidding about this being a long-term move.”
“Wrong city for anything long-term.”
The Twins had been to Scar City twice in the past six months, reporting back to their base—the Complex—in Chicago after each trip. This was their last run, their last chance to find Dr. Aquino’s rumored device. Their superiors considered it a top priority but were unwilling to risk themselves. So they’d sent Finn and Gareth.
“I’m staying in the Wanderer Inn,” Mari said, naming one of the worst establishments in the City.
“Have you been there before?” Finn tried not to let too much worry infuse his voice. She’d be in for one hell of a shock when she saw the place. Then again, it could give her an excuse to come stay with them…
“Yes.” The answer surprised them both. “I stayed next door with my parents, many years ago. At the time, my father was going through…well, a rough period. He seemed depressed, talked to himself a lot. He used to wander the City walls at night, alone. My mother and I were so worried. He said he was observing the Barks, making notes. I—am I talking too much?”
“Not at all,” Finn reassured.
“We spent two years there, and Dad—” She cut herself off, suddenly wary. “We moved to Flagstaff, where his health improved.”
And then, presumably, went downhill, given her comment about no living family. What was she hiding from them?
“How old were you when you left?” Finn turned his caresses into a light, soothing massage and felt the tension in her muscles begin to relax.
“Fourteen, maybe fifteen.”
“Wonder why he bolted,” Finn mused.
Could be money problems, or health stuff. That comment about observing the Barks was interesting. I’m more concerned about why her family left so abruptly. You think the girl’s going to run into trouble when she gets to the City?”
“Maybe. Let’s find out.”
Finn braced himself as he sensed a slight humming in the tracks. A split second later, the train lurched, but he was able to hold Mari firm.
She flinched and gasped. “Do trains always do this?”
“This is an old train, so it will be a rougher ride. Not many people go into or out of Scar City. It’s mostly freight that runs through this area.” Finn resisted the urge to skim his hand underneath her blouse.
“I had heard that,” she murmured. “I don’t remember it being this bumpy when we last left. There’s maglev trains between the more prosperous Cities, but I…”
“But she doesn’t think she belongs in a prosperous City.” Finn picked up Gareth’s thought and conveyed silent, indignant acknowledgment.
“Must have been tough, going from a comfortable life to being on the run,” Gareth said.
She shrugged. “Everyone had to cope with that, one way or another. What about you guys? You’re older than me—at least, I think—so you must remember more about the days before.”
Everyone, even strangers, tended to enjoy talking about the days before, as the pre-invasion years were called. People tended to forget there were troubles back then too. Rose-tinted glasses were fun to look through.
“We were fourteen when the first mothership landed. Until then we were being prepared to combat other humans. Our focus shifted.” Finn gave in to his urge as he talked, gently gliding his hand up her blouse until bare skin met his fingertips.
“Oh.” It was both acknowledgment and encouragement.
When Gareth slipped her boots off, the sigh she made was mingled relief and arousal, strengthening into a moan as Finn cupped her breast. The look in her eyes was needy, yet wary. Were they merely a fantasy fulfilled? He rejected that line of thinking, tilted her chin up and leaned in for a kiss.
Hot. Seriously hot. He took his time, savoring her mouth, aware that Gareth was shifting her body so that she lay atop them both. When Finn pulled back, Mari was panting, eyes wide and slightly unfocused.
“Wh-what if the train goes over another bump?” she asked.
“We’ll keep you safe. Relax.” Finn brushed another kiss across those delectable lips.
“Trust us,” Gareth said. He was working her tights down, but paused as she reached for his arm.
“Please—I don’t know if I can…”
“Can what?” Finn asked. “Come?”
She blushed a shade deeper, gaze flitting from him to his brother and back again. “Do this?” It came out a question.
“With both of us?” Only Finn heard the subtle strain in Gareth’s voice.
“No—you…” She trailed off, gamely trying to recover her equilibrium. “I just mean, here? In a train?”
That she questioned the location rather than anything else—like the fact that both of them were attending to her—pleased Finn immensely. He never chased women. They came to him—or to Gareth.
But never to them both.
God, he’d chase Mari through a pack of Barks, the way he was feeling right now.
“You think she’s one of those chem-attract women?”
“What?” Finn glanced up at his Twin.
“Like the others have been saying—there’s a tiny percentage of women out there who, I don’t know, have some sort of je ne sais quoi that complements us exactly. I’ve been hearing the term chem-attract bandied about. They say it’s kind of like a fancy love at first sight, applying to both Twins. Might involve pheromones or something like that.”
“I’d ask you what you were smoking if we weren’t all ready to rip the pants off her—and she ours.” Right now, she was eyeing his crotch. As he watched, her gaze shifted to Gareth, taking him in too.
“I suppose you could think of it as joining the mile-long club instead of the mile-high,” Finn offered. As he’d hoped, she smiled.
“Well, we won’t get interrupted, at least. There’s only one passenger carriage, and there doesn’t look to be a way through from the freight cars.”
“Nobody else on the train except the driver,” Finn confirmed. “But, Mari, we won’t push you. We just want to get to know you a little.”
“I’ve never…”
“We know. We’ll take it easy, go slow and make sure you enjoy yourself. And your enjoyment is ours.” Gareth spoke this time, his usually gruff voice gentle. Actually, Finn had never seen him so tender with another person. It hit him hard in the heart. Gareth had been through too much. He deserved some kindness in his life.
“It’s too early to think about doing something like taking her back to the Complex,” Gareth warned, following Finn’s thoughts to the inevitable.
“Then we’ll talk about that afterward.” Finn teased Mari’s blouse up, exposing her breasts. He couldn’t help but make a pleased sound in his throat at the sight of her hardened nipples jutting against her bra. That had to go, of course, and Gareth supported her as Finn undid the straps at her back.
“Gorgeous.” Gareth voiced the very word he was thinking, and redoubled his efforts at her waist.
Finn couldn’t wait, bending to taste her breasts. He drew one nipple into his mouth and she arched against him, stifling a cry. Lifting her a little, he kissed his way up her chest, lingering at the hollow of her neck. He could smell hints of rosewater—a very feminine smell that only served to turn him on further.
Mari tensed in his arms as Gareth eased her tights fully down, pulling back to look at him with a hint of trepidation.
“Our pleasure,” he reminded her. “There is no need to be self-conscious when it’s our pleasure.”
“I—I assume you have done this with other women?” There was a slight challenge in her voice, one that had to be addressed.
“Yes.” He made no bones about it. “But both of us together? No.” They’d never found someone suitable.
She looked at Gareth, who nodded. Then whispered an oh.
When she moved to shield her body, Finn teased her arm away, bending to claim her lips. Instinct told him that if they stopped, lost momentum, she wouldn’t feel confident enough to begin again.
“Hush now, Mari. I don’t want to hear a word out of your mouth unless you’re moaning in pleasure or asking me to stop. You don’t get to talk until you come. Understand?”
Just like that, Finn took control. Competing emotions warred in her eyes—first mutiny, then grateful acceptance. She managed a nod.
“Brave girl,” Gareth said. He rested a hand on her thigh, his hand pale against her darker skin. His other hand tugged her tights the rest of the way off, leaving her bare to their ministrations.
Her body responded to Gareth’s praise, warming Finn’s heart. Although hesitant, she obeyed their commands as they arranged her body to their liking. Finn supported her back, his arms wrapping around her from behind. It was an ideal position in which to toy with her breasts, something he continued to do. He wanted to keep her aroused and ready to receive pleasure.
When Gareth parted her legs, she made a little sound of distress. “Shhh,” they said in unison.
“You’re beautiful,” Finn whispered in her ear.
“Very.” Gareth braced himself against the opposite seats with one powerful leg, eyeing Mari like a long-denied treat. Finn breathed in, anticipating the little shiver she gave when Gareth began to touch her.
With Gareth between her legs and Finn at her breasts, they softened her up, leading her trembling to the edge of orgasm. At one point, the train lurched, but their combined grip on her meant she was never in any danger of falling.
At first she didn’t know where to put her hands, but she finally settled upon gripping Gareth’s shoulder with one hand and Finn’s arm with the other. Her eyes were closed, lips slightly parted as Gareth continued to stroke her and Finn made lazy circles around her nipples.
“Gonna let her come now,” Gareth sent.
“Good. I forbade her to talk, and I think she’s about to start begging.”
“I wouldn’t mind a bit of begging now and again.”
Mari stiffened in Finn’s arms the instant before the orgasm swept through her. Finn quickly accommodated her as she threw her head back against his shoulder. She was quiet, intentionally holding back her cries and squeezing her eyes firmly shut. She turned her face into the crook of his neck and breathed out shakily.
Definitely a woman in need of some confidence. They’d have to take things slowly. Finn leaned down to nuzzle the top of her head.
“Good girl, giving that up to us,” he told her. “You rest now. I’ll hold you.”
* * * * *
The haze around the edges of her vision had barely receded when both men began putting her to rights again, lifting her to pull up her tights and rearranging her skirts. Finn fastened her bra and tugged down her blouse. She had no time to think, no time to regret. Within a few short minutes, she was presentable—rumpled and panting, of course, but modest again.
And yet…not modest, for she wanted very much to do it all over again.
When the modern world had come to an end, Earth’s population—those not killed in the violence of the initial invasion—had to focus solely on survival. There was no time for sex education, for mass-manufacturing condoms or other birth control. Sex as pleasure turned into sex for procreation.
Most people got married young these days. Conversation tended to revolve around chores or day-to-day life, maybe with some gossip thrown in. Old magazines were hoarded as treasures, and Mari had read only a few. Some of them featured skimpily clad people and relationship advice, which she’d devoured avidly.
She doubted any of them addressed the specifics of a three-way relationship, though. The last article she’d read had involved blowjobs and ice cubes. Who the hell had access to ice cubes these days?
Mari wondered what the magazines would say about men who pleasured her yet denied themselves. Wasn’t sex supposed to be a two-way thing? Three-way, in this case. They hadn’t done anything for themselves—or let her do anything, for that matter.
“Are you hungry?” Gareth had left her side for a few minutes. Now he was back, unwrapping a large parcel of sandwiches. He placed several jars of juice on the seats. Real juice, it looked like. Her mouth watered at that thought. She’d drunk powdered juice for so long.
Still, she had her pride. “I have food in my bags. I’ll eat later.”
“What kind of food?” Finn asked conversationally. He was still holding her, feet braced against bumps in the tracks.
“Bread,” she said as brightly as she could. “And boiled turnips.”
“Turnips?” Finn repeated.
She closed her eyes in embarrassment. “They’re very filling.” Also cheap enough that she could afford food and the train ticket.
“They’re disgusting.” This from both men.
“Hunger is the best sauce.” Prim Josie, her neighbor, had often repeated that saying. Former neighbor, she corrected herself, and she wouldn’t miss the woman.
“These are peanut butter and jelly sandwiches,” Gareth said.
Mari swallowed. “I didn’t know peanut butter even existed anymore.”
“It does.” He watched her with those dark green eyes, slightly amused. “Want one?”
Pride only went so far. Mari nodded, and seconds later was biting into the most heavenly meal she’d had in a long time. After the sandwich, Gareth handed her a jar of juice and a small square of actual chocolate.
Bliss.
“I’m spoiled,” she said. “Thank you. For—for all of it.”
They merely smiled at her, which almost made her feel guilty. She’d felt the size of Finn’s arousal, seen the fierce hunger in Gareth’s eyes. Yet they’d made no demands for themselves. Perhaps…but no, they would be in Scar City in a matter of hours.
By now, the afternoon sun rested a little way above the horizon, reminding her with a jolt that the aliens would soon be roaming. She swallowed, suddenly wanting to get up, to move.
“Which way is the ladies’ room?”
“Through that door.” Finn let go of her after a moment, seemingly reluctant to loosen his hold. In fact, he looked as if he wanted to come with her. Now that was a step too far. She gave him a reassuring smile and traversed the aisle, holding firmly on to each seat as she walked. Her head didn’t hurt anymore, but it had been a shock to fall like that, and one she refused to repeat.
When she re-emerged, both men were still staring in her direction, as if they couldn’t take their eyes off her. Perhaps it was the whole reciprocation thing. Should she feel guilty? Mari made her way back and sat down, this time with some distance between her and Finn.
She couldn’t think of how to broach the topic. I’m not ready sounded trite. But she wasn’t, and the environment unnerved her.
Since she’d been up at four in the morning—her landlord had wanted her out early since there was a new tenant moving in—her brain was growing incredibly fuzzy. She was in desperate need of a nap.
“I…” She trailed off, and was saved the effort of speaking further by Gareth, who simply lifted her into his own lap.
“My turn,” he said with evident satisfaction. “Settle your head right here, baby.”
Mari wanted to protest, but sleep deprivation won out. She wasn’t entirely certain when she’d begun to trust these men, but Gareth’s lap was too comfortable to resist. Her eyes drifted shut as she gave way to sleep, lulled by the steady rhythm of his heart and the rocking of the train.