Accepting My Twin Mates by Unwise Owl

Accepting My Twin Mates Chapter 91

CHAPTER 88 – AN INSTINCT OR A GUESS?

Evgeniya

I had been so engrossed in Bastiaan’s words, I hadn’t seen my father moving at all, let alone attempt to stand.

“Dad!” I shot up, shaking out the cramp in my legs “Are you ok? How’s your heart? Does anywhere hu-oooh my goddess!”

I slapped a hand over my eyes too late as my father stood, seeing him naked far more times than I ever wanted.

I heard him grunt in exertion and a flip of fabric. When I tentatively peered through my fingers, he had wrapped a bedsheet about his waist and fisted it at the hip. The only visible black marks on his skin were his tattoos. The dark tendrils that had spread on his right side where he was shot with wolfsbane had faded and vanished, but an angry red mark remained, burning vibrantly like a hornet’s sting.

“Solnyshko, I am fine,” his tight smile, thin voice and distended vein on his neck from effort suggested he wasn’t entirely truthful.

He placed his palm on his glass prison for as long as he could and I mirrored him, the silver thread within the plate hot against the pad of my hand. A tear betrayed me, slipping down my cheek faster than I could wipe away. I prided myself on self-reliance, never needing anyone. How I felt currently, I would give anything to break this damn glass apart to have the embrace of my father.

“The name you speak?” His head turned in Bastiaan’s direction, his hand dropping to his side. “You say, Galina, yes?”

“Sir,” the vampire rose to his feet, crossing the length of his cell. “Your daughter has been most worried for you, perhaps you should-”

“I said give me name!” My father lost his patience, silencing the atmosphere with his thunder and a fist to the wall.

Diego, who had remained with his back to the glass this whole time, slowly spun his neck in the direction of my father, an equally mixed expression of impressed and intimidated crossing his face.

“Uh, yes, Galina,” Bastiaan’s throat bobbed and he unconsciously backed up a step. “And from your rather distinct tone that mirrors hers, you are a relation?”

“My older sister… she was here?”

That was it! When he told me of his pack, he spoke of an older sister, Galina… my aunt.

“Your name is Konstantin, isn’t it? She spoke of you often,” Bastiaan’s gaze switched between me and the wall that separated him and my father. “…You’re lycans.”

“Lycans?! ¡Ay diosa mío, hostia! (Oh my goddess, bloody hell!) I thought you were pulling my leg, Bastiaan!” Diego attempted to stand so quickly, he nearly tripped over his own feet. “Ok, you need to tell us your story, you’ve heard ours. Except for your poor padre (father). He was too passed out.”

“I thought I was only survivor…” my father mumbled, his gaze drifting downwards.

“That is what she thought also. Sometimes, when she was a little more lucid, she spoke of almost feeling family. But, she wasn’t sure if it was real or wishful thinking.”

“Dad, didn’t you say something similar?” I recalled what he said. As fast as he would sense her, the bond would fade. “Marceau mentioned in his little villain speech about the lycan she-wolf here being on ‘loan’. She was only here to see how she fared in a fight. Maybe she’s still alive somewhere?”

“Do you truly sense your bond with her, Konstantin?” A small bloom of hope lit up the vampire’s features, so pure it was painful.

my father struggled for the right English word, making a bursting

I filled in

She could be

through marriage sort of thing?” I connected the dots of how destiny had led me to be in an opposite cell across

I

fate operated was truly

a real sweet family reunion, but I would like to know how the f**k, lycans are here!” Diego drew our attention with his waning

rolling my eyes around their sockets. If this man wasn’t Catalina’s mate, I would be floored. “I didn’t even know I was a

knew, starting from running away from my mates and finishing with being sold by said

now, I don’t know if anyone else was in on it, or if my mates are in danger too. They’ll never suspect their father of doing this, they love him too much. They

curse. “No wonder you weren’t surprised by what my padre did. s**t, what your Alpha

him,” Bastiaan glowered, his eyes pulsating a molten gold, despite the now bright sunlight. “Beginning

vulgar?” Diego chuckled

I even wanna

translation,” he grinned in wicked humour,

as a cramp once again crept into my womb, feeling like some strange middle ground of an ache and nausea. I steadied myself on the glass

laced with worry

my head a fraction too quickly, spinning my surroundings harshly

hoped he would understand the signal. My words couldn’t be said aloud; the expectancy growing in my uterus needed to be kept a secret for as long as it could be concealed. His life would be another pawn used

His life…?

belly fluttered with the tiny bond, a pleasant tingle tightening my

this an instinct or a

right… our pup, he’s our little man,’ Evva preened, wanting to nuzzle

silver confinement, ocean and continent that separated us? There was no perceptible tell pulling me to which twin our son belonged. Would they be able to tell, or would they even care, choosing to raise him as

bruise given by curtsy from Diego, stopped between mine and my father’s cells. He raised a brow at my hunched-over frame, supported upon the glass. Straightening my spine and backing

one last silent and stoic gaze, he moved past our cells to enter somewhere on the right of my field of vision. All I could see was a solid sleek navy wall that matched the three surrounding me. There were no cells beyond. My father watched him like a hawk where he stood opposite with a clear view. From the glints

of black. The narrow grid I thought was fixed opened and in slid the folded wad of black fabric;

attire that Bastiaan and Diego

the sterile-smelling fabric.

but the shirt’s huge, it might help hide any bumps,’ I held it up taking in the size that was clearly made for a man. ‘For all these guards know, our pregnancy scent is our normal scent… for now at

clothing, having no desire to change, even though I felt thoroughly gross in the dress

never heard one speak around us, not once in the twenty years I’ve been here,” Bastiaan answered. “Their faces change

a shelf, he didn’t wait to see if I took it and turned

unidentifiable meat in the shape of a loaf and a questionable slop that could be grits,

daughter,” my father demanded, glowering down at the guard he

completely ignored the insistence, sliding

shoving the tray away before the guard had even

of Russian slurs followed, too rapid and snarled through anger for me to discern where one ended and another began. And he