Tyrant Twins: A Dark Twin Romance

by Isabella Starling

  As my little sis settles against me and starts drifting off, I stare at the TV screen. But my mind is anywhere but on the show playing out for us. I'm thinking about my brother. I'm relishing in the fact that I finally won over him.

  Sibling rivalry is a mean fucking thing. It rots the brain. And I let it. But it doesn't matter now because I got what I fucking wanted. June's on my fucking arm these days, not Kade's.

  And soon enough, she will trust me even more... and I'll be able to hurt her so much harder.

  2.5 years ago

  "I'm glad to see you're finally improving." My father smiles, patting me on the back. I stare at him, not saying a word. It's been a long time since I've stopped fighting this. A long fucking time since I stopped believing he'd end this someday. It's been years, and there's no end in sight. Dad is determined to punish me for something I haven't done yet.

  I'll forever regret the day he walked into June's bedroom and caught me with her panties. I should've been more careful, but I learned my fucking lesson. I'll never let anyone else see the darkness that's running through my veins. My father taught me a valuable thing, and I'm going to remember it for the rest of my life.

  "Still," Dad goes on. "I think we could beat some more sense into you. Don't you?"

  I glare at him as he picks up his old, trusty belt. He's been hitting me with that thing for fucking years. The leather's wearing off, cracking in some places. I'll forever associate the sight of the belt with my father. Hurting me. Showing me who's fucking boss. But not today. Today's going to be fucking different.

  Even though Dad's bigger than me, I'm taller and stronger. I make up for the lack of weight in slyness and knowing I'm going to win this time. He won't even see me coming. Dad is so fucking convinced I'll never fight back. But I'll be damned if I'll let my old man beat me at twenty-two fucking years old. And as I sit on that chair in the attic, where the beatings have been taking place lately, I bide my time. I wait until his watchful eyes aren’t turned to me.

  I've undone the rope behind my back in secret and gotten my hands free. The moment he looks away, I stand. This time, I'm the one who grabs the belt, and my father shrinks away from me in fear before snarling in my face, "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

  "Standing up to you," I hiss. "You're never going to hit me again."

  "Give me that belt, kid," he mutters, trying to snatch the thing from my hands. But he's getting fucking old, losing his touch, and I'll be damned if I let him win this time around. "Did you fucking hear me, Parker? Give. Me. That. Belt."

  "No," I snarl in response, cracking the belt in my hands. "Now you're going to listen to me for a change."

  He laughs, making another move to snatch it away from me, but I'm too fast. I've got him backed up against a wall in seconds, breathing heavily.

  "Parker, let's talk reasonably," he begins, sounding out of breath. "Let's sit down and talk."

  "Are you afraid?" I laugh out loud. "Afraid of the monster you created?"

  "I tried to help you," he grunts. "I tried to make it better. I tried to make you a better man... But you were always just a monster."

  "Being a monster isn't so bad. You should know, Dad." My voice is dripping with vicious venom, and I'm not even attempting to cover it up. "Besides, you only made things fucking worse, and now it's time to pay. Pay for all the shit you've done through the years. Pay for every bruise and every hit, every punch, every slap you gave me."

  For the next hour, I turn the tables on Dad. I torture him this time. I've always been fascinated by pain, but I've never let myself truly explore it, not like I do that day. And at the end of the session, I'm the one who's forcing him to put long sleeves on to cover the bruises.

  There's something about seeing him like that—meek, heartbroken—that makes adrenaline rush through my veins. I fucking love the feeling, I could live on it. It's addictive, making me wonder whether Dad really hit me for my own benefit, or if he has the same darkness running through his veins as I do. After all, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree... whether it's good or bad.

  We join the others downstairs a few hours later. Dad looks small and pale in his blue shirt and suit. But I'm more carefree than I've ever been. I clap my brother on the back and hug my little sis, and I wink at my father. He winces. He knows he can't do anything to stop me now, and I'm reveling in that feeling.

  "Thank you so much all for coming!" Rachel speaks up, clinking a fork against her glass. "Our wedding anniversary has been beautiful because of every single person here."

  "Hear, hear!" I nod jovially, raising a glass to my father who watches me with a crestfallen expression. The old man's world is crumbling now, and I'm loving it. I can't wait to see that pained expression on his face every fucking day. To know I've bested him. That things are going to go my goddamn way from now on. "To the Wildfox-Millers."

  "To us," Rachel nods, and the five of us clink glasses.

  "I have a special present for the two of you," I add with a grin. "And I just can't fucking wait to show you..."

  18

  June

  Life goes on. Slowly and painfully, it moves forward, without a single call from Kade.

  I spend a lot of time with Parker, to the point where he’s practically living with me. He’s so sweet, so worried, always next to me, holding me when I cry, consoling me when I feel like I might break in half. Today we’re in my living room because I’m refusing to leave the house. It just feels safe here, even though some might think I’m a little bit morbid for staying in the place that housed too much pain, so many people who aren’t here anymore. Parker’s stretched out on the couch, playing some violent video game, and I’m pretending to be engrossed in my book.

  “Parker,” I ask softly, closing the finished book with a thud. I don't remember a word of what I've just read.

  “Yep,” he responds, his eyebrows knitted together in concentration. He can see I’m hesitating, and I’m surprised when he puts down his controller and focuses his attention on me. When did he start caring about me more than his video games? I wonder. Sure, we were always close, but Parker's priority has always been himself, and now it seems as if I've taken up that top spot.

  “Tell me,” he says and offers a nice, albeit a little impatient smile, his eyes flickering back to the TV screen where his game is paused.

  “Well,” I begin. What I’m about to suggest would send Kade in a rage a few weeks ago, and while I’ve offered before, I’m not sure how Parker will accept my preposition. “You’ve been staying with friends now for how long?”

  “A few weeks,” Parker answers, eyes dashing between the screen and me. “You know I can’t go back there. Not now that I know what he wanted to do with you.”

  I nod slowly. He refuses to talk to Kade, and while I understand, I feel awful for breaking their bond. They used to be thick as thieves, and now it’s all gone to hell because of me. And I can’t help it, but I don’t share Parker’s sentiment. Every time the phone rings, I still wish it were Kade on the other side.

  “You know I appreciate it,” I say sincerely, and we share a secretive smile. It’s always been like this between Parker and me—like we were actual siblings, not just related by marriage. We just click. “Well, I was thinking,” I finally add, offering a shy smile. “You’ve been here a lot, right? I thought … maybe you’d be more comfortable if you stayed here for a while?”

  This is the moment of truth, and my eyes are glued to my stepbrother’s face, searching for answers. I’ve wanted them both in this house since everything with the inheritance went down, but Kade outright refused to discuss it. He was bitter about losing all the money and too proud to let me help him. He never accepted a single dollar from me.

  But Parker…

  His forehead is creased, but I can tell he’s considering the possibility of what I’m offering him.

  “No pressure,” I say softly. “It’s just that I’d like some company. And family needs to stick together.” What’s left o
f it, anyway, a painful thought reminds me.

  He looks up at me, and I can see him considering his options. I know he’s been sleeping on couches and skipping classes just so he could spend time with me. And I want to help. All I’ve ever wanted was to help them.

  “Okay,” he says quietly, and my heart skips a beat. “I’ll stay here for a while.”

  I can’t help it—I rush from my side of the couch and envelop him in a bear hug. “Thank you,” I say sincerely, and for once in the past few weeks, I’m genuinely happy. We’re what’s left of this broken family, and we’ll carry on the legacy. With or without Kade.

  2 years ago

  It’s my nineteenth birthday. There’s cake. There’s a party. There are presents.

  Yet I’m sitting on the floor in my closet, bawling my eyes out.

  I know they’re looking for me, but I’m too upset to let anyone know I’m hiding from my own friends. And it’s all because of Kade, just like it always freaking is. This time, my tears are because he didn’t show up. He didn’t even have enough sense to come to his own stepsister’s party, and once again, he’s pushing me away right along with the rest of the family.

  “June?” I hear someone call out, and I whimper, not sure whether I want them to find me or leave me alone in my misery. I know it’s stupid I’m this upset over one person, especially when everyone else has been trying so hard to make this day special for me. But still, as my tears fall, I can’t help but feel sorry for myself—all the while knowing my anger should be directed at my stepbrother.

  “June?” someone repeats, and the door to the closet creaks as I look up, panicked. And there is the face I most want to see—steel-gray eyes, dark hair, muscular build. Those lips, saying my name like it’s the most important thing in the world. But there are two people with that face, two people with that voice. And right now, I don’t want Parker. I want Kade. Only Kade.

  “Oh, little sis.” Parker sighs, making his way to where I’m slumped on the floor. He sits down next to me and cradles me in his arms as I sob pathetically. “You have to stop getting so upset over the smallest things,” he says softly, stroking my hair.

  “I know,” I whimper. “But it’s… it’s my birthday.”

  We were always together on our birthday. Had birthday cake, celebrated. This is the first year Kade missed it, and even though we’ve been growing distant for years, it still hurts like hell.

  “It’s okay,” Parker comforts me. I look up at him gratefully, thankful for having him at least. He’s always there to make me feel better, always making up for his brother’s absence. But this time, the Kade-shaped hole in my heart just won’t go away.

  “Here,” Parker says with a mysterious smile. He produces a bottle of vodka from God knows where, and I stare at him with surprise.

  “I’m nineteen, remember?” I ask him, raising my eyebrows.

  “Whatever,” Parker says. “Better you have your first drink with me than someone else. I’ll take care of you. You know that, right, little sis?”

  I nod because I trust him—always. He opens the bottle, and we proceed to get mind-blowingly drunk right there on the floor of my closet. I forget all about Kade—or at least pretend to—and have a blast pretending to be sober when we return to the party, greeting guests and ignoring my mother’s and stepfather’s worried glances. Parker’s next to me the whole time. Like he always is. I have a great birthday.

  When it starts getting late, we hear a car honking in the driveway, and moments later, the front door flies open and in comes the guest of honor—Kade himself. My heart hitches in my chest and pummels to the ground when I see a brunette draped over his arm. It’s not the one from the garage all those years ago. It’s a new-and-improved model, complete with fake tits that make me insanely jealous and angry at the same time.

  “Where’s the birthday girl?” Kade asks with a wide smile, and I step forward as everyone looks on happily, some people even clapping, glad he showed up. “There you are, Junebug.”

  It’s only when he comes closer that I smell his breath—and it reeks of booze, probably just like mine. But at least I brushed my teeth to hide it. Kade doesn't give a shit.

  He stares at me, hard. Doesn’t offer a birthday kiss, not even a friendly hug. Instead, he thrusts a box in my hands, and I inspect it while he moves away. It’s all torn, and the edges are coming apart, but it means so fucking much because he remembered. He didn’t forget about me. He’s here, and he cares. I smile widely at him, and Kade smirks, holding the brunette close. I try not to be jealous of how his arm is wrapped around her waist but fails miserably.

  “Open it,” he encourages me. "See what's inside, Junebug."

  And just for a moment, I forget he’s late, forget he’s clutching another woman close, forget he’s probably drunk out of his mind, and I let myself be blissfully happy. As soon as I open the box, I realize my mistake.

  “What have you got there, honey?” my mother asks and steps closer. I’m in too much shock to respond or hide what’s in the box. My mother pulls out a bottle of tequila and an enormous purple dildo.

  “Thought you might want to have some fun.” Kade smirks. “Didn’t think you’d get laid anytime soon, so I got you a little toy. And the booze is for drinking your pain away, Junebug. Maybe you can finally drink away that little unfulfilled crush you have on me, Junebug.”

  His voice cuts into my heart, and I glare at him. This is different from the alcohol I shared with Parker. This isn’t meant to comfort me. All he wants is to hurt me.

  The room is silent as my heart breaks again, and when my stepfather throws Kade out, I’m already numb. I only let myself cry that night in Parker’s arms, which is always where I end up.

  19

  Kade

  How the fuck am I supposed to move on when every-fucking-thing in the world reminds me of my Junebug?

  My hands shake as I lift the cigarette to my lips. I inhale deeply, the smoke filling my lungs, making my head cloudy. It's a welcome reprieve from the pain and worry that's made me a goddamn mess these past few weeks. But none of that hurts as much as my own guilty conscience does. The thought of June, abandoned, forced to trust only my brother, drives me fucking crazy. I grab the shot off the bar and down it in one go. Then another one. And then another one. Why wouldn't I? What do I have left? There's nothing. Nothing but days filled with empty pain and loneliness. So I might as fucking well.

  "Kade?"

  My bleary eyes go to the figure standing before me. Petite, sexy, red hair. I dig through my memory to find her name.

  "Kara?"

  "You remembered." She smirks. The redhead looks hot tonight in a skintight latex mini skirt and a black top cut out so low, her tits are nearly spilling out of it. "How've you been?"

  "Shit," I grunt in response. Why would I hide what my life has turned into? There's no point in denying it. I lost my brother, I lost June. Even my most hard-core party friends don't wanna come out with me any longer. They think it's sad I spend every night at the club or the bar. Fuck them. They don't know what it feels like to lose both your other halves. "What about you?"

  Frankly, I don't give a shit how she's been doing, but she launches into a speech about her dumbass boyfriend, nonetheless. And then there he is, Mr. Prick himself. He wraps a possessive arm around Kara's slim waist, glaring at me when he catches me staring at his girlfriend's nearly exposed tits.

  "You remember Adam, right?" Kara purrs, and I grunt something in response. "I hope you two can get over your little spat."

  "Why do you care?" I slur.

  "Well..." The two exchange a conspiratorial gaze, and then the guy finally lets go of Kara. She scoots closer to me, leaning in to whisper in my ear. "We were hoping you'd join us tonight."

  "Join you?" I repeat loudly, making her flush with embarrassment and clear her throat. I'm past the point of fucking caring, though. She wants trouble, I'll fucking give her some. I address her boyfriend next, lifting another shot at him and downing it
in one go before speaking up again. "A devil's threesome?"

  "Kind of." Kara laughs nervously. "So? What do you think?"

  I weigh my options. I've lost June. I've lost the desire to pick up chicks in bars since then. Every night, I beat my stiff cock with my hand, and it's not enough for me anymore. I need the silky folds of a woman on me, wrapping around my length, accepting my girth. A devil's threesome isn't the ideal scenario, but the sick part of me, the dark side, wants me to do it anyway.

  To hurt June. To fuck up Kara. To show her lame-ass boyfriend who owns the pussy he thinks he's going to put a ring on. I want to cuck him. I want to see him broken. I want to be the one to cause pain again, because what the hell do I have left but some random fucking hookup in Pulse? There's nothing. Nothing.

  "Yeah, alright," I finally drawl, downing another drink and putting my leather jacket over my shoulders. "Come on, let's go."

  Ecstatic, Kara takes my hand and her boyfriend's in the other. She leads us out of the club and her pussy boyfriend calls an Uber. The whole drive back to their Brooklyn apartment, the girl stares me down hungrily. She really does fucking want more. What a thirsty little bitch.

  The thought of fucking Kara should fill me with primal desire, but it does fucking nothing for me. Not when my mind is still stuck on June, on how much I hurt her. I ruined her fucking life, and I'll never be able to forgive myself for it—and neither will she. I groan inwardly, running my fingers through my hair.

  The Uber stops in front of a fancy building, and the three of us take the elevator to their penthouse. Moments after the front door closes, Kara is on me. Her sloppy lips try to find mine, but I evade them, telling myself I'm only biding the time before I give her what she so desperately wants. But the more time that passes, the less convinced I am I'll be able to go through with this.