The Sextet - Sharing [The Sextet Anthology, Volume 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) by The Sextet Read Free Book Online Page B

and
    every muscle in her body vibrated with agony.
    She required food and a massage—preferably in that order.
    Fortunately, the hotel provided both. The cost, she dismissed. Some
    things were worth far more than the actual price—essentials like
    peace and harmony in one’s life. Harku had provided neither. Had
    Nalira known how fond he was of drama, she would never have
    hooked up with him, let alone turned a blind eye to his most
    prominent character flaw. There was plenty of drama surrounding her
    clients. She didn’t need it at home.
    Pressing the release pad on the desk, she looked up as the door
    slid open to reveal two men—two identical men—both wearing sky blue T-shirts and skintight black slacks. One was carrying a tray,
    while a folded-up massage table rested against the hip of the other.
    Tall, lean, and muscular in precisely the manner that made Nalira
    Double Desire
    49
    drool, they both had dark, unruly curls and exotic green eyes with
    irises rimmed in black. Her shoulders sagged at the thought that two
    stunningly attractive men were about to enter her hotel room and sex
    was the very last thing on her mind.
    In fact, if she never laid eyes on another deceitful, male wretch
    again, she wouldn’t have minded, but having two of them—two
    perfectly gorgeous specimens that might have been created with her
    specific preferences in mind—made her forget about the disaster that
    was Harku and focus on the possibilities of the future.
    With a nod toward the one who was evidently the masseuse, she
    said, “You should have waited.”
    He shook his head. “We work together.”
    “Always?”
    “Always.”
    Nalira laughed. “I suppose that’s a twin thing?”
    “No, it’s a clone thing.” His expression was grim, reflecting the
    scandalous significance of his words.
    Nalira was aghast. “You two are clones?” The cloning of humans
    had been outlawed for over a thousand years. How had these two been
    produced?
    “We are duplicates of a very rich man.”
    The implication was clear. “Spare parts?”
    “Perhaps,” his counterpart replied. “But he died before he could
    use any of them. We were then bequeathed to the hotel.”
    “Bequeathed?” she echoed. “But if you are him, how can that
    be?”
    He smiled, but without joy. “Clones cannot exist, therefore we do
    not.”
    “No identity, no rights, no property,” said the other.
    Nalira was shocked. “But what do people call you? One and
    Two?”
    “I am Sar, and he is Lon.”
    “Sarlon,” Nalira mused. “I know who you mean now. He was a

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    Cheryl Brooks
    ruthless old bastard.” Giving Sar the once-over, she concluded that
    along with cloning, they must have been subject to a little genetic
    manipulation as well. Even in his youth, Sarlon hadn’t looked that
    good, though they both had his hawk-like nose and cleft chin.
    Lon shot a warning glance at Sar. “We should not have told her.”
    Sar stood with arms crossed, his voice as firm as his stance. “You
    may be happy with this life, but I am not.”
    “Sorry I brought it up,” Nalira put in. “But do you mean that no
    one else has ever questioned you?”
    Sar shrugged. “Never.”
    Nalira couldn’t imagine anyone not wondering, which meant that
    if they always worked as a team, they must have had a lot of hard-
    assed clients. Nalira knew the type, and as one who sorted out the
    legalities of interpersonal relationships, she’d dealt with a few of that kind herself. Oh, yes, there were plenty of clients who wouldn’t have
    made a comment, but then, humanity had never been particularly
    humane.
    Lon set the tray down on the small dining table next to the bed.
    Nalira turned, grimacing as a cramp knifed her beneath the shoulder
    blades. “Guess this means I need to get up.”
    Sar took her hand and helped her to her feet. Nalira felt her knees
    popping, and her lower back went into a spasm as she attempted to
    stand. “You’re as young as you feel,” she quipped,