Tyrant Twins: A Dark Twin Romance
Page 2
“You’re hurting it.”
“So?” He laughed easily. “It’s weak. It can’t fight back.”
“It’s not right,” I shook my head resolutely. “You can’t hurt innocent things just because you’re stronger than they are.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, little girl.” Kade slammed the lid of the box shut, grabbed it out of his brother’s hands, and put it away without giving me a second glance.
Our parents called us down a moment later, and I followed the brothers down the oak tree and into the house while a plan formed in my head.
Kade had underestimated me. I may have been a little girl, but I was determined, and I wasn’t going to let him get away with this. That butterfly didn’t deserve to die, and I was going to save it. And nobody was going to stop me.
I waited until darkness fell that night. It was a cold late summer night, and I didn't catch a wink of sleep. My nightmares had plagued me night after night lately, so it suited me just fine. This way, I avoided waking up in a cold sweat with my heart racing.
When Mom checked on me to turn off my night-light, I pretended to be asleep. And once complete silence enveloped the house, I crawled out of bed, bare feet hitting the hardwood floor.
Going out through the back door, I winced as the screen squeaked. But everyone in the house was fast asleep.
I ran through the grass damp from the night to the treehouse. I remembered where the boys kept the flashlight they'd shown me earlier, and I used it to guide my way.
My heart was thumping in my chest—I was terrified. But there was no way I was going to give up. I needed to save that innocent creature.
My fingers shook and the flashlight fell, clattering to the floor. I picked it up, feeling as if someone was watching me. The fear crept under my skin as I scrambled to find the wooden box. Finally, my hand wrapped around the familiar, carved shape of it, and I pulled it free of the drawer.
I knelt on the rickety floor, carefully lifting the lid of the box.
The butterfly was still there, but barely moving. Its wings were paper thin. I wanted to cry when I saw it struggling to break free.
I took out the pins as carefully as I could, but the insect was too hurt to move on its own. I was so focused on my task I didn't see someone else coming up the stepladder behind me. Not until the lid of the box snapped shut, making me scream as it smashed my fingers.
I retrieved my hand, crying softly as I blew on my throbbing fingers. I raised my eyes to the figure before me—one of the twins, wearing pajamas and a dangerous scowl.
"Thief," he spat out at me, and I realized it was Kade. "You're trying to take something that doesn't belong to you."
"No," I hissed. "I'm trying to save the butterfly."
He glared at me with angry eyes. Then a smile pulled at his lips. He knelt on the floor where I was still nursing my injured hand. He blew on my fingers, asking if they hurt. I nodded. I didn’t understand how he could switch from being so cruel to so very kind.
Carefully, he retrieved the butterfly and held it up for me to admire. It was beautiful despite being so weak. Its wings were nearly translucent, and it was slowly recovering from the ordeal the twins had put it through. That is, until Kade crushed it in his fist.
I screamed again, the sound echoing in the night.
I watched as Kade opened his palm, and the crushed body of the insect fluttered to the floor. I gathered the broken butterfly in my palms and watched a tear fall from my eyes to its unmoving body.
"You killed it," I whispered, looking up at Kade. "How could you?"
He hesitated before finally muttering the answer. "You loved it. I don't want you looking at anything or anyone like that."
"What do you mean? Are you crazy?" My bottom lip wobbled.
He didn't answer. Instead, he took me by the hand. He helped me bury the butterfly underneath the oak tree. Wordlessly, he walked me back to my bedroom, tucked me in, and turned on my night-light, as if he knew I always turned it back on when I woke up in the middle of the night.
That night, I had no nightmares.
I was still afraid of the darkness then... but the twins would teach me to embrace it.
"Good night, Junebug," Kade had whispered.
The nickname was sweet, adorable, but I hadn’t answered. The way he killed that butterfly was still playing in my head—cruel, vicious, and unnecessary.
And that was how my obsession deepened... Because as frightening as the darkness was, it was more interesting than its light counterpart.
2
Kade
“Well, well, well, would you look at what the cat dragged in.” Parker smirks as I make it into the kitchen, rubbing my bleary eyes and grumbling something in response. He’s standing at the kitchen counter, wearing an apron that says Fuck the cook. Classy.
“Fun night?” Parker asks, imitating jerking off a cock with his hand while waggling his brows.
Oh, the joys of living with your identical twin brother when you’re twenty-five years old.
“It was… eventful.” I look over my brother’s shoulder to discover what meal he’s destroying today. He’s not much of a cook, but hey, at least the guy fucking tries.
“Hey,” someone says timidly from behind my back, and I turn around to see a girl.
Redhead. Tiny, but curvy. Not my type at all. What the hell did I do last night? I wonder.
“Um,” I say intelligently, and Red looks at me meaningfully as I scramble for her name, coming up blank. Sarah? Her bottom lip pushes out slightly, and it’s painfully clear I’ve upset her. My brother starts grinning like a madman.
“Oh look, Kade, your latest conquest is up.” He walks over to the redhead and wraps a too-familiar arm around her shoulders, winking at her. “Ready for round two with the hotter brother?”
I wish he would shut that mouth. Being the older and more responsible brother, I have this sentiment often. Red looks utterly confused and glances from me to Parker. She makes no move to push him off her, and a moment later, her eyes stop on his muscled arms. Of course they fucking do.
“You should probably go,” I offer lamely, feeling like a total douchebag. “I’ll order an Uber or something.”
She doesn’t object as she disappears into my bedroom. Parker flips a burnt-looking piece of dough, all the while shooting me meaningful glances.
The girl comes out of the bedroom in time to catch him sniffing a very blackened and inedible-looking pancake.
“That looks delicious,” she mutters sarcastically. But the way her eyes devour my brother speaks volumes. She thinks he’s hot. That’s probably why she’s still lingering in our apartment. She wants a piece of the other twin next.
I guess we are nice to look at. Since we’re identical twins, there aren’t many differences between us at all, until you get to know our personalities.
We’re both six feet four, with naturally broad shoulders and bodies we keep in shape by jogging together and doing weights at home. My dark hair is shaved on the sides and longer on top, and Parker’s is floppier and a little longer all over. Our gray eyes are an unusual contrast to our darker skin and make us appear more intense, or at least that’s what we’ve heard.
“It’s the only thing he can pretend to cook,” I inform the girl (Sarah?) and sit down to enjoy a plate of lopsided pancakes.
Red shakes her head. “You guys are weird,” she declares.
I really want her to go because I’m not about to relive last night, which I’m sure involved a lot of drinking and even more sloppy kissing. This is how my one-night stands always go, anyway. They get a glimpse at Parker, and his artsy-fartsy charm is too much for them to handle.
Sure, they’re attracted to my broody nature at first. Girls love a bad boy, and I’m more than eager to give them what they want if it means burying my cock in sweet, wet pussy. But in the mornings, girls like Red don’t want the brooding, jealous, possessive type. They want a sweet, darling, precious artist like my brother.
“It’s Kara,” she says with venom in her voice. Oops. She looks over my shoulder at Parker and winks at him. “I should’ve at least chosen the hotter brother.”
Parker cracks up again as she finally leaves.
“Your face!” he says between bursts of laughter. “When she said that!”
I roll my eyes and make my way to the fridge to get some milk. I pour myself a glass, but before I can lift it to my lips, Parker’s stolen it, taking deep gulps of the liquid.
After Sarah—or Kara, or whatever the hell her name is—leaves, we sit down to breakfast. Like we’re a normal family and not the sad remains of what we used to be.
Parker proudly presents me with more misshapen pancakes, and I fake enthusiasm as I dig in. Honestly, they’re not as bad as they look, and I desperately need some food in me to fight the impending hangover.
I only remember last night vaguely, and that’s been happening far too often. Booze, drugs, and fucking. That’s what my nights have been about. And then in the mornings, I fight off hangovers with my brother’s greasy concoctions before leaving for work in the hope of making enough cash to get us through the month.
I’m a motherfucking mess.
Parker doesn’t hesitate to tell me so, either.
“You’ve been out every night this week,” Parker complains. “I watched TV without you. You missed our favorite show. It’s like you don’t even want to be my brother anymore. Like we’re not a family anymore.” He glares accusingly at me, which I choose to ignore.
But the man is right. We’re not a family anymore. The Millers and Wildfoxes have gone their separate paths. We lost June, and if I’m not careful, we’re going to lose each other, too.
“And then you drag that back home with you,” Parker continues, jerking his head toward the door where the redhead left through earlier. I keep my head down and eat my pancakes, not saying a word. To fight with him means to let him win because he won’t stop until he has the last word.
“I wonder where you go every night,” Parker ponders out loud. “A whorehouse?” He smirks as I give off a loud sigh, finally having enough of his speculations. “How much did you pay Little Red Riding Hood to suck your dick, I wonder?”
“I went to a bar.” I offer the smallest fact possible to hopefully make him shut up, but of course, I should’ve known better. He latches on to any information I give him, desperately scrambling for more. “Nothing special. Same as every night.”
“And not once did you offer to take me with you,” he says, glaring at me.
It’s true. I don’t take Parker out when I leave the house. Why would I? He’d just cramp my goddamn style. And a part of me still believes I can protect him from the bullshit I have to do every day. I still remember the promise I made to our father years ago—I’d watch over Parker no matter what. Despite the minute difference between when we entered the world, I’m the older one. The responsible one. I’m supposed to take care of the kid.
“What do you order at a bar?” Parker wonders out loud, flicking a stray cereal flake at my head. One of these days, I swear. “Trashy redheads!” he shouts at the top of his lungs when I refuse to provide an answer, and I slam my fist on the table.
“Can you please?” I grunt at him, feeling defeated and deflated at the same time. “I’m tired, my head’s fucking throbbing, and I really cannot deal with you right now. I’m late to work as it is.”
“An hour and thirty minutes,” Parker cheerfully reminds me, and at that moment, I want to fucking punch him in his overly cheery, handsome face that mirrors mine.
Because I’m the only one of us with a real job.
Sure, Parker gets some money, but it’s not a regular paycheck like mine. He paints, so some months he’ll sell a lot while he doesn’t have a dollar to his name during others.
So, it’s on my shoulders to not only pay for myself but also most of Parker, who is finally in school learning to do something he loves.
And it shouldn’t have been like this. We should be taken care of, yet we got nothing.
He backs off, seeing he’s overstepped the line, and we sit awkwardly for a few minutes, not saying anything at all.
“What are you going to do today? Go to class?” I ask Parker when I finish off my breakfast, pushing the empty plate away.
“No class today, will get some other stuff done,” he responds cheerfully, but I can tell it’s fake. I know him too well. I know when he’s hurting, and since we’re both going through the same stuff right now, I know exactly how he feels.
Cheated.
Wronged.
Angry.
I give a brief nod and get up to start getting ready. No one will give me shit for being late, but I’m still not thrilled about it. I get paid by the hour as a programmer so being late means less money on my paycheck.
“I’ll see you this evening,” I say twenty minutes later after I’m showered and ready to head to work.
He’s sitting on the sofa in front of the TV, watching some sitcom. He just nods.
And because I’m the big brother—if only by a minute—I give him some money to order takeout in case I’m home late again. We part on good terms, and even though I’m already regretting shelling out for pad thai, a smile remains on my face. We need a little treat now and then. Otherwise, we’ll both go fucking crazy.
But still, as I take the stairs to the first floor, I want a better life for us. We aren’t used to this, and we’re struggling. No matter what it takes, I’m going to pull us out of this mess.
I want justice.
My day passes as the days always do—at the office. My job is not something I love, but at least I’m good at it, and it makes some money. Not nearly enough, though.
Lately, I’ve been too lost in the dark parts of my mind. My brother manages to keep me upbeat most of the time, though I suspect sometimes he feels just as lost as I am right now.
The dark voice in my head is only growing louder and meaner as time goes on, reminding me that I’ll never fix our lives. Things will never go back to the way they used to be. It’s fucking over, and it’s all June’s fault.
I close my jacket and cross my arms in front of me to stop the cold from getting in. My breath comes out in puffs of smoke, and I’m stewing with anger and resentment. My lingering hangover has not subsided all day, worsening my mood. Now I’m on my way home, and I’m fucking dreading it. Another night when I’ll have to make a crappy excuse to leave Parker and go out drinking with my friends, possibly find another girl to add to my little black book. But nothing’s ever enough. Nothing fills the black, June-shaped hole in my heart.
I’m only a block away from home when I hear the engine of a car slowing down behind me. It is followed by angry honks and shouts, and I turn around to see what the commotion is about.
There’s a black limo behind me, the lacquer on it shiny and spotless. And the driver is rushing out now, opening the door. A second later, two impossibly long and slim legs poke out, and a girl exits the vehicle.
She's dark, tall, and willowy. She looks like an Upper East Side princess who’s lost in this part of the city. Her hair falls in perfect glossy ringlets, and her eyes burn bright behind thick layers of mascara on her long lashes.
And then she stumbles in her too-high heels and almost falls under the wheels of a car.
Thankfully, I catch her before that happens.
June Wildfox feels light in my arms, like a feather. The desire to throw her over my shoulder and carry her to my bed where she belongs is strong, but I fight it with everything I have in me.
“What the hell are you doing?” I murmur as I place her back on her feet, and more angry honking ensues. “You need to stop following me.”
June manages to stand straight, giving me a nervous smile. She waves at her driver, and he manages a short nod before getting in the car and driving away, slowly dissipating the traffic jam they’ve both caused.
>
“I really don’t have time for this,” I say roughly to the dark-haired socialite, making my way off the road and onto the sidewalk. I tuck my hands in the pockets of my peacoat and start walking away with purpose.
But of course, I hear the clickety-clack of her heels as she runs after me. “Wait!” she begs softly. Somehow, everything about her is soft—that mass of hair, her porcelain skin, and those full lips. Shaking my head, I refuse to look at her and keep walking, but she manages to catch up with me by taking long strides.
“Come on, Kade,” she says with that begging voice that used to work so well on our father. She managed to be Daddy’s girl even though she wasn’t even his blood. “Why won’t you talk to me? You know what happened isn’t my fault. I just want to—”
“I’m not dealing with you today,” I tell her and keep walking.
She doesn’t waver. She trails me like a lost puppy.
“You have to talk to me at some point,” she presses, and I shake my head. “Please, Kade! I’m so alone… I have no one anymore.”
“Not today,” I tell her. “Not now. It’s… It’s too fucking soon, June.”
That seems to shut her up for a bit, but she’s still following me relentlessly. The noise of her heels is driving me insane, and I rub my eyes as I walk, too tired to deal with this now. I have enough problems without Poor Little Rich Girl following my every step.
“Please, Kade,” she says behind my back, but I refuse to turn around or give her the time of day. It fucking stings, though, because I’m a man who protects the ones I love. But not her, I remind myself. She’s on her own now, and she’s got enough money to take care of all her problems.
“Let me be, June,” I tell her sternly and quicken my pace, but she runs behind me, wrapping a shaky hand around my forearm. I turn around and rip my arm out of her touch, watching her lips tremble with sadness.
“I’m so lonely,” she says sadly. “I miss you … You have each other, and I got…”
“You got our parents' fortune,” I tell her sternly. “You got every cent, and don’t pretend you’d give it up for us. We’re not going to play the puppets in your little play, so you might as well give up and get. Fucking. Lost.”