Tyrant Twins: A Dark Twin Romance

by Isabella Starling

  My fists clench as I realize there’s next to no chance of me getting the portrait back. It was one of my best—a pièce de résistance. I need it if I can’t have her. I need something to remind me of the curve of her hips and the swell of her breasts. Of the fact that even June fucking Wildfox is nothing but flesh and bone and a beating heart beneath it all.

  I try to memorize her as best as I can to recreate the image of my little sis. I can't let it fade away now. I need to keep it. Keep her.

  I remember her milky skin, her incredibly long hair with the little kinks and waves she gets when she doesn’t comb it out enough. I think of her sparkling eyes, the innocent curve of her lips. And I let the darkness take over. Imagining hurting her, slicing into her body as I did with her delectable little friend. The blade would slice through her skin like butter. The thought makes my dick hard.

  But it doesn't take away from my reality. The fact that I don’t know where I’ll go or what I’m going to do. I have no money, no prospects, no future. Without my brother and my stepsister, I have no income.

  But that doesn’t matter because I always get what I want. And what do I want?

  My brother’s warm blood smeared on my hands. Tasting June’s tears as she cries over him. Fucking her as she begs for me to stop. Claiming her life after taking his.

  I always get what I want.

  I’ll roam the streets if I have to. I’ll sleep in this dark alleyway if it brings me closer to my goal. I’ll ignore the trash that litters it—be it people or garbage, it’s all the same to me. I pull my hoodie over my face, shielding it from the curious onlookers. I hide because I don’t want to be found.

  Not just yet.

  Not until I'm fucking ready...

  3 months later

  My life has changed and not for the better. I'm a man of the streets now, claiming one corner in particular as my own. I snarl at other homeless people who walk by, desperate to keep at least this small piece of the sidewalk as my only possession. Sometimes I'm full, but more often, I'm hungry. I eat when I have the money or when someone takes pity on me and gives me a sandwich. I don't beg. It's beneath me. But instead of feeling grateful, I'm consumed by the red mist, angered that someone would think I need help.

  I'm not a man who can take care of himself. I was shielded by my father and stepmother, and later by my brother, so I've never had to work a day in my life. Now, I know going back to anywhere where Kade might find me is too risky. So I stay here. I make the streets my home.

  At first, I tried to find a job, but it proved to be useless. No one is hiring, and since I don't even have a bathroom to make myself look presentable, they wouldn't take me as a bartender or waiter. So I've started doing the one thing I've always been good at. I'm selling my art. If you can call these diluted, boring, depersonalized pieces art.

  I am good at this, and I know it. But if you want to sell, you have to suit the needs of your buyer. And my buyers, people on the street—tourists and moms with strollers—probably don't want to buy paintings of a ripped open, stripped naked June.

  So I've settled for landscapes and even an odd portrait. But with every brushstroke, I have to stop myself from smearing red across the canvas. The color calls to me, begging to be used. The faces on the canvas are asking me to split their lip or gouge an eye out. I fight all of those instincts, and then some, because only one thing remains on my mind.

  Revenge.

  My first painting is created with things I find in an art supply store's garbage, and it sells the same day. Pretty soon, I have a reputation, and people gather around my corner to see my newest works. I don't ever tell them my real name. Never look them in the eye. I go by Nox. I let the darkness take over, the way it was always meant to.

  I take their money until I have a small stash in my pocket, the wad of paper notes getting thicker each day. But it's still not enough because most of these people are just watchers. They don't buy shit, just stand around, admiring my shitty work. And as much as I want to smash their faces in, I prevent myself from doing so. Instead, I smile politely and inquire what they like, trying to get in their heads and convince them I'm the next big thing.

  Maybe one of these days, one of them will actually fucking buy it.

  I'm not selling today. Instead, I’m fighting a hangover from two bottles of cheap wine I had the previous night.

  I am not an alcoholic, I tell myself. But there's a certain kind of calmness at the bottom of each bottle. And pretty soon, they are becoming the only way I can fight back the red mist that descends more and more often these days, threatening to take over my life like it did when I lost my little sis.

  I'm slumped on the corner I've had to fight for, the wind howling through the streets until it suddenly stops. Time stands still.

  On the other side of the road, the one with the fancy shops with expensive things in the display, is a couple strolling by, their laughter soft and sweet, their conversation friendly. But the man's hand on the small of the woman's back suggests there's more to their relationship, especially when his palm wanders downward toward her ass.

  The couple is June Wildfox and Kade Miller.

  They're walking by only a few feet away from me, not even noticing me. I immediately feel the red mist settling over me, and I spit on the sidewalk, snarling at the sight of them. They made me this way. They sent me here to the prison of the streets, and they're happy without me. The perfect couple, but if I have anything to do with it, not for fucking long.

  I get up abruptly, my head pounding. Whether it’s from the hangover or the anger I'm feeling, I can't be too sure, but I already know I won't be able to fight the red mist this time.

  They look perfect. He’s in that stupid peacoat he always wears, and his hair is longer, ruffled from every time June runs a hand through it playfully. She's wearing a pretty floral dress and a cardigan, her long hair hanging down her back. She looks fucking beautiful.

  An insane desire to sear through her body with my cock consumes me. Whenever I see something beautiful, an inner need wills me to destroy it. And June, my little sis, is the prettiest of them all.

  My hands form fists at my sides, and I head toward them. Ready to smash Kade's face in and finally claim June's pussy as my own. The way it was supposed to be from the start.

  That's when I see it.

  June turns to the side, and I see the faintest hint of her swollen belly. She never looked like that before. My instincts never lie, and now, they're telling me the truth.

  June Wildfox is pregnant.

  I want to fucking kill Kade. The resolve to finish this once and for all drives me forward. I don't care who fucking sees. I don't give a shit if I go to jail for the rest of my life because of this. I'll be fucking damned if I let him have her and the baby growing inside her.

  "Are you the street artist?" someone interrupts my thought process. A body steps in my way, bigger and broader than I am, and my eyes immediately shoot upward, annoyed.

  "Get out of my way," I snarl, already moving to get away from him, but he sidesteps me, blocking my way.

  "I don't want any trouble," he claims, his hands up in the air, whether to defend himself or appease me, I can't be too sure. Not that I give a fuck.

  "You're about to get some," I growl back at him, finally getting a good look at the man. He's about fifty, a silver fox, and clad in a sharp business suit. He certainly doesn't look like he belongs on this side of the street, more suited to the other side with the luxury shops.

  "I've heard of your art," he says, placating, ignoring my outburst. Over his shoulder, I see June and Kade going around the corner, and I get even more anxious, desperate to get away. Desperate to kill, hurt, maim, scar.

  "What about my fucking art?" I hiss, refusing to pay him any attention, keeping my eyes focused on the couple.

  "I'm a gallery owner downtown. I've seen your work popping up on social media and blogs, and I'm intrigued," he explains quickly, and he finally has my attention.

&nb
sp; A gallery owner? This could save me, I think. The last few drops of the booze from last night put me into a frenzy, making me wonder if this is it. My way out.

  "Tell me more," I say, my anger dissipating. June and Kade are momentarily forgotten but always in the back of my mind. I focus on the man in front of me, who pushes a business card in my grimy hands. The stark white paper looks terrible against my palms smudged with paint and dirt.

  "My name is Thom Hodge. And I believe you have real talent. But there's something else..." He eyes me thoughtfully, flashing a perfect smile that I, for some reason, don't want to smash in. Yet.

  "What do you mean?" I demand, heart pounding in my chest.

  "I see something dark in you. I see you suppressing your real talent. And I believe I can help you bring it out. And earn some money while you're at it," he says, winking at me. "So, are you interested?"

  I regard him with a cool expression. He's everything I could have, everything I lost. The expensive suit, the Italian leather shoes. Thom Hodge is my ticket off the streets. I find myself nodding in agreement to his question, not trusting myself to speak.

  Ignoring all the dirt from the street caked on my sleeve, he grabs my arm and claps me on the back.

  "We'll do great things together," he promises me.

  Something tells me he's fucking right. Not that I give a shit about this man.

  The only thing I give a fuck about is getting back at Kade and claiming June.

  My twin is a dead man walking, and little sis will be mine.

  Just like their baby...

  26

  June

  "I can't believe it. I just can't."

  "Well, you better, Junebug." I shriek with delight as he pops the champagne bottle, smirking at me. "You're all mine now. No more running from me. You're my property now."

  His dark words send a shiver of delight down my spine, and I shake my head as he hands me a flute. "You know I can't, Kade."

  "Don't worry." He shows me the bottle. "It's kids' champagne."

  I laugh out loud and take the glass from him. The drink is bubbly, overly sweet, and apple-flavored. It's kind of gross, but I drink it, savoring the moment. We've finally done it. With only a few months to go before the baby's born, we eloped and got married today. Our only witnesses were two passersby. We hired a photographer, and I wore my mother's dress. It was the perfect day. And now, it's time to celebrate our new union.

  I can tell Kade's thinking of the same thing, the dark intent in his eyes deepening as he approaches me. We both set our glasses down, and my husband wraps his arms around me.

  "I can't wait to see him," he mutters, palming my stomach. We found out a week ago the baby was a boy, and Kade has barely been able to hide his excitement since then. He keeps saying this will be perfect because our other kids will have a big brother to look up to. His words make me laugh, but they make me nervous, too. I don't know if I'm ready for one baby, let alone a whole brood. "You look so beautiful, Junebug."

  I kiss him, and he tips me back in a romantic gesture, making me giggle. Mom's dress is tight around my stomach, and I'm itching to get it off. Kade seems to know as much, and he spins me around, undoing the corset in the back. He slips the fabric off my body gently, and I gasp when I feel his cold fingertips on my skin.

  "You can't escape me anymore, Junebug," he repeats. "No more running... You're all fucking mine now. And tonight, I'm going to prove it to you."

  My skin bristles with excitement. I want this more than I can put into words. I've been thinking about tonight for so long. Kade insisted we didn't have sex again until we were married, claiming he wanted to make things right first. But now, the promise of being with him hangs thick in the air, causing goose bumps to erupt on my skin.

  "Don't be too rough with me," I remind him nervously, touching my swollen stomach. "You know it's not good for the baby."

  "I wouldn't dream of it." He lifts me into his arms, ignoring my protests and carrying me through to the bedroom. Kade booked the honeymoon suite for us, and I'm glad he did. It's magical here. There are rose petals everywhere, and the dimmed lights create an intimate atmosphere. Once we're in the bedroom, I gasp at the gorgeous view of the city. It's beautiful up here.

  "You promise you won't hurt me?" I ask Kade. I'm not sure why I'm so nervous—well... If I'm being honest with myself, I can see why. It's because of Parker. Sometimes I wonder how my two stepbrothers can be so vastly different. After all, they're cut from the same cloth...

  "Of course," Kade replies, lowering his body onto mine as he smirks against my lips. "I won't. Not unless you beg me to."

  "I can't imagine—" He cuts me off by kissing me again. Every time his lips touch mine, I feel butterflies erupting in the pit of my stomach. This is what I've always wanted. But Parker's shadow still looms over us. He's the only one left in the world who disapproves of us, and I can't escape those judging gray eyes. But as Kade deepens our kiss, I finally let go, allowing my body to succumb to his charm. He pulls back, grinning wickedly as I gasp his name.

  I'm wearing nothing but my bridal lingerie now—white stockings, white garter belt, and a white lingerie set. I feel vulnerable in front of Kade, but the way he drinks me in with his eyes is reassuring, telling me he wants this as much as I do. He lowers his mouth against my skin again, kissing a line from my lips to my navel and down to the tender spot between my legs.

  "All I can think about is you," Kade mutters against my skin. "Tasting you... owning you."

  He bites my clit then, and I cry out, but the sensation feels amazing. Kade knows just how much pain I can take, giving it to me in doses that make me crave so much more. I shiver. How am I already so weak? We've been here less than twenty minutes, and I'm already eager to beg for the very thing I asked him not to do.

  "Kade, please..."

  "What are you asking for, Junebug?"

  I bite my lower lip to prevent the words from escaping. I can't admit it—not to Kade nor to myself. Yet when he touches his lips to my pussy again, grazing his teeth against my skin, the words escape me, and I finally stop holding back.

  "Hurt me, Kade..." I fully expect him to laugh at me and tell me I'm sick and twisted. But he doesn't. Instead, he just groans against my skin and pulls himself up from the bed. He heads to our luggage and returns holding a roll of baby pink rope. I narrow my eyes at him. "What's t-that?"

  He doesn't answer. Instead, he ties my hands and my legs to the bedposts, and I feel my center growing wetter and wetter as I realize I'm completely at his mercy now. As scary as the thought is, it fills me with desire, making me wish I could cross my legs so I could hide the wetness there. But it's too late... Kade's eyes are already locked on the droplets of my own arousal running down the inside of my thighs.

  "You want me so much, Junebug," he mutters. "You're so desperate for this... You want it fucked up, don't you?"

  I bite my lower lip with a slow nod. Kade smirks at me, saying, "I knew it... You're a wildcard, June. You want to be hurt as much as I want to do it to you. But not tonight."

  My heart sinks. "You aren't going to hurt me?"

  "Not in all the ways you crave." He smirks. "But in all the ones that make this even more excruciating for you."

  He picks up one of my unused makeup brushes from where I've set down my makeup. Painfully slowly, he lowers the feather-soft bristles against my pussy. He watches me squirm and struggle as the maddening strokes of the brush drive me closer and closer to madness. I want to scream. I want to beg him to bring me closer to an orgasm, to allow me the release I've been craving for weeks. But another part of me is loving this... enjoying the sweet torment of Kade's torture.

  "Please," I finally whisper. I feel like I'm about to lose my mind. My clit is throbbing, my pussy swelling. I'm embarrassed to even look between my legs. "Please, let me have some relief, Kade."

  "Why would I?" He smirks darkly. "This is so much fun for me. I just love watching you squirm for me, Junebug."

  His to
rture continues, and with each brush of the bristles against my tender skin, I feel a step closer to madness. After a few more minutes, I'm crying out for him to give me more. Finally, Kade tosses the makeup brush aside and pulls out something else from his pocket. It's metal—a silver chain with two clamps attached on either side of it. I blanch at the sight of it, swallowing thickly.

  "It won't do any permanent damage," Kade explains. "But it'll hurt. You ready for this, Junebug?"

  "I..." My mind says no, but my body is more than willing. Unfortunately for me, Kade doesn't wait for my answer, and that only makes me want him more. He takes what he wants... and what he wants is my pain, my pleasure. I'll give him whatever he decides to take from me, I realize. I belong to him now.

  My husband positions himself between my legs, looking up at me to say, "It's going to hurt when I put them on, but it'll hurt a lot more when I take them off. You ready?"

  I nod wordlessly. When he places the clamps, the pain is unusual but not unpleasant. Kade clips one to each side of my pussy, and groans with pleasure as he tugs on them, opening me up for his thirsty gaze. "So fucking beautiful, Junebug... I love seeing you like this. So very helpless for me, aren't you?"

  "Yes," I whisper. "Please, Kade..."

  "From now on, when you say please, you have to tell me what you're begging for." My eyes bore into his, hoping he'll change his mind, but he merely smirks in return before tugging on the clamps and making me gasp, frustrated from how much I want him inside me. "God, you look so fucking good... Look between your legs, Junebug... Watch your hungry pussy drip for me."

  "Please, Kade," I beg again, and his gaze quickly makes me follow-up my request. "I want you inside me."

  "Not yet," he grunts. "I want to keep looking at you like this. So beautifully exposed for me."

  I want to hammer my fisted hands against the bedsheets, but I'm helpless. Completely at his mercy. There's no getting away from this, and the twisted part of me loves it, loves that he took that choice away from me. I never thought I'd enjoy something like this. That I'd be begging him to fuck me while he holds my clamped pussy open for his pleasure. I fight back the urge to scream and beg for more. But Kade picks up on it, tipping my head back while his other hand wanders to my exposed folds. I whimper.