Tyrant Twins: A Dark Twin Romance

by Isabella Starling

  I don't want some skanky slutty girl from Pulse. I want June. But I can't have her. So I might as well indulge. It's not like June gives a shit, anyway.

  Kara seems a little put off by my reluctance, so she sits me down on her green velvet sofa with a bottle of vodka in one hand. She climbs on her boyfriend's lap on the couch opposite of mine, and his hands find their way under her excuse for a skirt. I watch impassively as the two make out. Lips meet lips. Skin meets skin. And my cock lays flat against my stomach, refusing to so much as throb once at the sight.

  Even when the guy removes Kara's top, I remain unimpressed. Yeah, she's fucking gorgeous, but this means nothing to me. There's no emotion other than straight-up horniness here, and it fucking bothers me even though I have no goddamn idea when I got so hung up on emotions of all things.

  Maybe it was when I realized how delicious they can be. When I saw how much more meaningful fucking is when you love someone. But I don't love June anymore. I can't love June anymore. My stepsister has made it plenty clear she doesn't give a shit about me, and it's about time I moved on. So when Kara motions for me to come closer, I sit on the couch with her guy, and she climbs onto my lap. My hands explore her skin. She's pretty. Warm. She feels good in my arms. But I feel nothing. Fucking nothing.

  I let her kiss me for a while, wondering what kind of excuse I can come up with to get out of this shitty situation. But my mind is blank. There's nothing I can think of that would get me out of this penthouse and back home, where I could lament the death of two relationships alone.

  Finally, I've had enough.

  "I can't," I mutter, gently sliding her off my lap and back into her boyfriend's arms. "I can't fuck you, I'm sorry."

  "What?" She stares at me, flabbergasted. Then her expression turns angry. "Seriously? You made us bring you all the way here just so you could back out now?"

  "I'm sorry," I groan again, running my fingers through my hair. "I'm fucking sorry, okay?"

  "Your brother was right," Kara says with disdain. "You really are a fucking loser."

  I pick myself up from the couch and shrug my jacket back on. By the time I've reached the front door, the couple is already all over one another again. Whatever they're doing, they don't fucking need me. Nobody does. I'm like that extra goddamn screw you get with your furniture. Useless.

  I head outside. The air is cold and crisp, clearing the fog from my head. It's gonna take me fucking hours to get back home on foot. But when I check my phone, I find the battery is empty. I can't even call myself an Uber. I curse out loud and keep walking, hoping I'll find a ride somewhere along the way.

  Kicking at rocks on the street, I wonder whether I'll ever see June again. Whether Parker will step in touch with me again, maybe forgive me for all the shit I've done. I know he's pissed I tried to take June away from him, but a part of me really hopes he'll understand eventually. That he'll maybe even let me have her...

  But I should know better than that. Parker's always been weirdly fucking possessive of our stepsister. From the moment I told him about the plan, he made it clear he wanted to be the one to have June. And now, he's painted me as the goddamn villain. Even though I'd already discarded the plan in my head, I'm the one who looks like the piece of shit in this scenario.

  Even though Parker's the one who tried to go through with it. But June won't believe me.

  June... The memory of her hair fanning over my pillow almost stops me in my tracks. But I gotta keep walking. It's cold, and I'm gonna freeze to death if I stop here.

  As I continue walking, I think of all the things about June that make her so special. Different. Her scent. The way she walks, the way she smiles. It's almost as if—

  "Miller?"

  I raise my eyes, knitting my brows together when I see an unfamiliar figure before me. He looks like he's in his early twenties, younger than me though.

  "Yeah?" I ask, trying to figure out where I know the kid from.

  "You're Miller? Parker Miller?"

  "No, well, yes but—" Before I can finish my sentence, he punches me right in the goddamn face. My lip splits. Blood spurts forward, coloring the guy's white shirt in stains. "What the fuck, man?"

  "That's for what you did to my sister," he snarls, hitting me again. This time, he gets me in the eye, and I groan. Fuck me, what a perfect goddamn ending to my evening.

  Before I can defend myself, the guy's sprinted off into the car that's waiting for him on the curb. The pain of the two punches he threw is fucking overwhelming. I sit down on the curb and groan, cradling my head in my arms. I'm bleeding all over. I must look like a goddamn mess.

  What the hell was that all about? I ask myself. That guy thought I was Parker. But what did Parker do to the man to piss him off this much?

  It's a lost cause. I could spend all night wondering how my asshole of a brother pissed off some guy I don't know—the possibilities are endless, and Parker's kind of a jerk. I'm sure the guy had reason enough to fucking smash my face in. Maybe this is all karma paying me back for what I've done to June. As if I'm not defeated enough already.

  I force myself to get up again and keep walking. It must be forty-five minutes later when I finally find a cab and manage to hail it. The driver winces at the sight of me, asking, "Rough night?"

  I don't bother with an answer, instead just grunting my address and getting in the back of the yellow vehicle. At least the driver has the common sense to stay quiet for the entire ride home.

  As I let myself into my apartment, I notice some of Parker's shit is missing. The video game controller. The fucking TV. The piece of shit even took the water heater, probably just to fuck with me. With a groan, I collapse on the couch, throwing my keys on the coffee table.

  I guess he's well and truly gone now. He hasn't come back to our apartment in weeks, but now he's taken his shit out of here, too. He ain't coming back.

  I wonder whether he's staying with June now. The thought alone is so fucking infuriating I grit my teeth together in anger. She's not safe with him. I know my brother better than anyone, and I know he can be real fucking dangerous. But there's nothing I can do about it now—it's not as if I can just waltz into our old home and convince my stepsister not to believe a word out of my twin's mouth.

  June's on her own now.

  I just hope she's clever enough not to fall for Parker's lies.

  20

  June

  Parker and I are stuck in the house.

  We don’t go out. Not even to grab lunch or see a movie. We just stay inside, ordering takeout, playing video games, pretending everything’s okay, and this is our own little haven amid all the madness. One morning, I get ready and purposely wait until midday, which is when Parker drags himself down the stairs and sits down to eat, his eyes bleary.

  “Why are you so dressed up?” he asks with his mouth full of Lucky Charms.

  “I’m going to work,” I say with a purpose, and give him a smile that is way stronger than my will to actually do something. “I haven’t been to the office in weeks. It’s time.”

  Parker just stares at me as he chews his food, and finally, he sets his spoon down. “I wish I could go somewhere, too.”

  His words surprise me.

  “But you can paint,” I mention tentatively. Parker’s always been artistic, and he’s been painting and drawing for as long as I’ve known him. He’s quite secretive about his art, but he's incredibly talented from what I’ve seen.

  “Don’t feel like it.” He shrugs. We sit in companionable silence when I have a light bulb moment.

  “You could always work at the firm,” I say hesitantly. The reason I’m a little unsure is because I’ve offered both Parker and Kade jobs before, and they both shut me down immediately. There’s a long, strained silence, but finally, Parker looks up at me.

  “Doing what?” he asks. I contemplate my answer, but then I have another moment of brilliance.

  “We’re actually going through some changes,” I say quickly, trying to ge
t the subject out as soon as possible. “You know, trying to bring the company to this century.”

  Parker cocks his head to the side. It’s so awkward talking to him about this—after all, his father helped my mom build the firm. But it must be done. We can’t tiptoe around the subject forever.

  “We’re designing a new logo, a new image for the brand, that kind of stuff, you know?” I explain, and Parker nods thoughtfully. “We could definitely use someone as artistic as you to help us with that.”

  I neglect to mention our whole creative department, and when Parker’s eyes light up for the first time in weeks, I know I’ve done the right thing.

  “Sure.” He shrugs. “I could give it a go.”

  I wait for him to get ready, and that day, we finally leave the house. Together.

  2 years ago

  Only weeks after my birthday, the doorbell rings when we’re sitting down for Sunday lunch. Parker and I look at each other in confusion while my stepfather clears his throat and goes to answer the door. The rest of us chatter absentmindedly while I’m sure all of our thoughts are still on my disastrous birthday party.

  I can’t get my mother’s face out of my head, the slap that followed stinging Kade’s cheek. I cringe at the mere thought of my stepfather throwing his own son out, me crying, Parker comforting me. It was a nightmare. I hear my stepfather murmuring and arguing with someone, but then Kade walks into the dining room, followed by his enraged father.

  “You’re not welcome here,” he hisses, and I blush at the thought of tearing the two men apart.

  “I’ve come to apologize,” Kade says, and I finally risk looking at him. He looks good. Better than a few weeks ago, that’s for sure. He’s cleaned up, looks healthy, and—the most welcome of all changes—no trashy girl is hanging from his arm.

  “Say what you need to say.” His father sighs, but his eyes are stern. “And then get out.”

  Kade, Parker, and I flinch at his harsh words, but finally, Kade nods, coming over to where I’m sitting and pulling out a chair next to me. I look up at him through my thick lashes, my heart beating wildly in my chest.

  “Junebug...” he begins, the one word melting my heart immediately. I could listen to him murmuring my name all day long … I shake my head to get the thought out. It’s not right. Instead, I look up questioningly, not saying a word. I don’t think I could get anything out, anyway. Suddenly, the chicken we’ve been having has dried up my throat, and it’s getting harder to breathe.

  “Junebug,” Kade repeats, finally raising his gaze to meet my hurt eyes. “I know what I did was wrong. I thought it was just something fun, a little tease … Something to take the tension off.”

  I’m mesmerized by those steel-gray eyes … I could stare into them forever. So cold, with warmth spreading through them when he looks at me—only me. So different from Parker’s, yet so alike.

  “It was nothing but a bad joke,” Kade finished. Finally, he takes my hand in his, and I try hard to stop my hand from shaking, but it’s trembling like a leaf. Reassuringly, Kade places his palm over mine and smiles at me. And I’m a goner because that smile has always managed to charm me into oblivion.

  “It’s okay,” I whisper softly, offering a weak smile.

  “Well, then!” Parker exclaims, and all our eyes go to him. “Shall we proceed with lunch?” he asks sarcastically, refusing to look at his brother and focusing his burning gaze on me instead. I fidget in my seat, feeling uncomfortable.

  “Yes,” my stepfather says, a certain softness in his voice. He places a heavy hand on Kade’s shoulder, and father and son exchange glances. “Will you join us for the meal, son?” Mark asks gruffly. I hold my breath and steal a glance at my mother, who seems utterly gobsmacked. Parker has been having Sunday lunch with us forever, but Kade hasn’t been around for years. So we’re all taken by surprise when he nods in response.

  “I would love to.” Quickly, another place is set by the housekeeper, a plate placed in front of my stepbrother, filled with delicious food. I think I’m the only one to notice Parker’s displeasure at the sight of his brother. I sigh inwardly—he’s so protective of me, he even worries about his own twin hurting my feelings… But I can’t worry. I’m blissfully happy at this moment, and I let myself experience the feeling, my yearning gaze flittering to Kade as often as it can without raising Mom's suspicion.

  After lunch, everyone settles in the day room, but Kade asks me if I’d like to go for a walk. I check with my mother to see if she agrees, and she gives permission, albeit reluctantly. I follow Kade out of the door, trying to ignore the burning sensation of Parker’s eyes boring into my back. Kade and I walk wordlessly along the strip of beach next to our home, enjoying companionable silence. As nice as that is, I can’t ignore the unsteady beat of my heart, the want for him to touch me, kiss me. Do all the wrong things in all the right places.

  “Junebug,” he says after a while when we come to a stop next to the deck.

  “Yes?” I whisper softly, looking up at him. Kade fidgets, his hands in the pockets of his jeans. He can’t quite meet my eye. “Why won't you look at me, Kade?” I ask softly, and he slowly raises his eyes to meet mine as though it pains him to do so. And when we finally look at each other, he lets me see all the pain, the regret, the hurt he’s suffered.

  I gasp. I don’t know why, but with a single look, he’s bared his entire soul to me. And I can tell he’s hurting. Hurting so damn bad. My hand finds his cheek and I stroke it softly, whispering sweet nothings to make him feel better. It seems to help somewhat, and he soon relaxes into my embrace.

  “You know I didn’t mean to hurt you, right?” he asks desperately, and I nod in his shoulder. “I would never,” he continues fiercely.

  “Why did you give me that stupid gift then?” I ask.

  “I was being a jackass.” He sighs. “There’s no good reason. I wanted to get a reaction from you. Wanted to see your face flush.” He steps away from me, grinning widely, and it’s so good to see him smile. “I always liked seeing you blush,” he says wickedly, pulling on one of my long braids.

  We stare at each other, smiling softly. And I wish, just for one moment, he could forget about me being his little sister, that he could pull me close… Pull on my hair in an entirely different way. He leans closer.

  “Junebug,” he whispers again. I want him to keep saying it.

  “Mmm..." I'm too stricken to form complete words. His hand finds the small of my back, touching it softly, hesitantly. Our touch is so electric it almost makes me bounce back, but I force myself to stay in the same spot, savoring it. His lips are so close to mine… so deliciously close.

  “June, it’s getting dark!” My mother’s voice cuts through the moment and my eyes meet Kade’s. The moment is over, and I think I see a flash of regret in his eyes. But then he moves in and gives me a peck on the cheek. So brotherly. So freaking disappointing. We return to the house, my desire for my stepbrother still burning. With hope wildly growing in my chest, like a spark that refuses to go out, I face the rest of our family.

  “June, a moment?” Mom calls out when we get back. I nod and follow her into her room. I have a good relationship with my mother, always have. She’s soft-spoken but strong-minded. She’s the rock of this house.

  “Yes?" My mother is facing the window, and I can’t see her face, but I can hear her sigh. “Is something wrong?” She sits on her bed and motions for me to come closer. I join her, but she still refuses to meet my eye. “Is everything okay?” I ask again. I need to know. I can’t take another blow.

  “Listen, June,” my mother says softly, her voice caring but stern. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while.” She looks up at me. “Do you have a boyfriend, dear?” I blush violently. Even though we have a good relationship, my mother and I don’t share these kinds of conversations. I think of the boys at college and shake my head. None of them holds my interest. The only one I want is closer to home …

  “June,” she continues. �
�I married your stepfather because I wanted you to have a father. I loved him very much, and the fact that he had a family played a big part in that as well. I wanted you to grow up with siblings,” she says. I nod vigorously and start to speak up, but she silences me with a hand in the air.

  “You have to understand we are a family. First and foremost,” she says, now even more serious. My brows furrow, and I look at her questioningly. “I’m talking about your brothers, June.” I look away.

  “Exactly.” She sighs. “You still don’t see them as your brothers, do you?”

  I don’t answer.

  “But that’s what they are, June.” My mother takes my hand, stroking it softly, my fingers shaking again. “They are your brothers, and they love you very much. But they are boys, and you are a girl… A woman. A beautiful one.”

  I know where this is headed, and it’s killing me inside.

  "Remember our talk in the treehouse?" she asks, and I nod automatically. How could I forget? That conversation has haunted me for years. "My thoughts on the matter are the same, June... But there's something else. You need to remember those boys are twins. Family. June, I don’t want Kade and Parker to fight because of you. Always remember. Family comes first.” With that, she tips my chin up so I’m forced to look at her.

  “And Parker and Kade are your brothers. Nothing else. They can never, ever be anything else.”

  I nod wordlessly, but Mom isn’t done yet. She squeezes my hand.

  “Say it back to me, June. Repeat it.”

  “Nothing but brothers,” I repeat robotically.

  “Promise, June?”

  The lump in my throat grows, and I stare ahead, not willing to give Mom the answer she wants. But she’s relentless. She squeezes my hand again, this time none too gently, and her fingers crush mine.

  “Promise,” I lie.

  ***

  3 weeks later

  “I mean, he’s such a prick!” Parker exclaims, shaking his head as he laughs, opening a cabinet in the kitchen. He tosses me some Pop-Tarts, and I place them in the microwave, laughing at his office gossip.