Accepting My Twin Mates by Unwise Owl

Chapter 103

Accepting My Twin Mates Chapter 103

CHAPTER 100 – WON’T YOU PLAY?

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This would be taking place roughly around the time when the twins would be setting off to ‘dysfunction around France’.

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Evgeniya

“Are you sure you’ve never played this before, dad?” I wiped away the filled grid drawn in dry-erase ink from the glass and penned out another.

“No, your mother never taught this game,” a small yet easy smile spread under his much thicker beard. “She used to play spy in eye to help my English.”

My laugh echoed between us. “I spy,” I helped correct him. “But I think we’ll stick to tic tac toe. There’s only so much we can spy in here.”

‘Unless one of those fuckwit guards passes by,’ Evva yawned and stretched, bored out of her mind. ‘There’s at least twenty things there and all of them swears.’

As I looped a circle to make my first move, she bellowed a huge and overly dramatic groan. ‘Can you play anything else? It’s been three hours!’

‘You wanna go back to hangman?’ I asked sarcastically, knowing it would shut her up.

‘If you go near that game again, I will force a shift and gnaw my leg off.’

‘That’s what I thought, so drop the attitude.’

It wasn’t entirely her fault she was being so snippy. Two months sealed away in my mind was getting to her, creating an increasingly cantankerous wolf. Her spirit buzzed under the surface of my skin needing release and in a few more months, when my belly would begin to show, our pup would be too big to safely cope with the physical stresses of a shift. If she thought a couple of months were going to be tough, how would she cope with half a year?

“Pravyy nizhniy ugol,” my dad said slowly, enunciating his syllables and pitch, telling me in Russian where he wanted his ‘X’ placed.

Small moments, like these, over the last few months, we had taken to teaching the other. I helped my father with reading English and he taught me some Russian.

“Bottom right corner?” Diego beat me to it, stealing my thunder.

my father praised. “Molodets, well

just a pretty face, ay

(girl),” he flexed his bare-chested physique playfully, preening

brow at him, writing the ‘X’ in the grid and placing my ‘O’ in the opposing

I tilted my head in question at my father as he stared

his eyes held a twinkle of genuine amusement. The

smile… you look like

heated at the compliment. Just as my father looked a little lighter, something within me felt the same too. Perhaps it was the serene quiet that we were experiencing, coupled with our little game, that had given us a brief sensation of normality. I had been trying to

normal; sweaty, aching and nauseous. And in the last few hours, the inner strain on my bond had eased somewhat, tugging away still, but not as painfully. I

moves of tic tac toe, my dad had won

thought going first would win

his dad-tone filled with wisdom. “You thought you had won

the hard wooden floor. I shuffled back to my bed by the wall, the only spot in my cell that had a blind spot from the CCTV camera outside. After all the trekking back and forth from my cell to Marceau’s private dining room, I had managed to peek a glance at the inside of the sliding door

my father had returned. Both my dad and Diego were

hadn’t been summoned for a dinner in two days and I was overdue. As if on cue, the sound of boots approached, followed by Diego’s curses in Spanish and finishing with my father’s growls and the swish of the glass cell

coincided with a day

I mouthed silently

worry regardless, but it made me feel better, like a lie

The only route I didn’t know yet was the one that

chérie,” Marceau’s slimy voice greeted me from the table

candles lit on the formally set table and the fire crackling away behind. A large roasted chunk of meat from wild boar steamed from the centre, surrounded by

pulled out a chair, gently sliding it under me as I reluctantly sat. I wished he would take the furthest seat, but I knew he wouldn’t. He would sit

holding it fast against my pull of resistance from his vile

Pew’s lips don’t wander anywhere else,’

tongue until the bitter taste of iron saturated my taste buds, beating

his sick game of control, and carved up slices of the roasted meat, sliding them onto my plate. Next, he spooned the vegetables on, making a show to press himself as close as

smile for me, ma chérie?” He tilted his glass, filling it with a pale rosé wine. “I know

as I stabbed a piece of cauliflower and shoved it in my mouth. These were my tiny acts of rebellion, the only things I could control. And so goddess help me, there was nothing he could do to force a smile on my face

cameras,” a cruel smirk twisted his lips as he sat back in his chair casually, making a clean slice into

around my neck as though a band had been clamped around it, squeezing on my

to eat,” he drained his glass, pouring a second immediately. “Care

looked akin to a brownie. The rich chocolatey scent hit me, too rich, too overbearing, too sickly.

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