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.

father praised.

pretty

he flexed his bare-chested physique playfully, preening like a

when you’re calling the guards gilipollas?” I raised a brow at him, writing the ‘X’ in the

head in question at my

twinkle of genuine

you look like your mother

had given us a brief sensation of normality. I had been trying to distract my father since he had woken from the after-effects of whatever foul tranquilliser they used and the exhaustion of

last few hours, the inner strain on my bond had eased somewhat, tugging away still, but not as painfully. I put it down to the bond with my pup, blanketing my troubles for a reprieve. My

tac toe, my

first would win it

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

bleed after several consecutive hours of gameplay. That, and my ass had long since fallen to sleep from being seated on 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 right

Inmates were either taking their recess time outside or were attending their fights. In Bastiaan’s case, it was the latter. He had been gone since my father had returned. Both my dad and Diego were on a day of rest, to prepare for a large match tomorrow. It had to be an important one because the two of them had been plied with high-calorie and rich protein food all day

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 door

now. I was only glad that it coincided with a day

fine,” I mouthed silently to my

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

I was led the usual route. The only route I didn’t know

voice greeted me from the table nestled

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

reluctantly sat. I wished he would take the furthest seat, but

he snatched my hand, holding it fast against my pull of resistance from his vile

Le Pew’s lips don’t

the bitter taste of iron saturated my taste buds, beating down every impulse I had to cram the man’s dinner up his

anger, all part of his sick game of control, and carved up slices of the roasted meat, sliding

glass, filling it with a

and shoved it in my mouth. These were my tiny acts of rebellion, the only

he sat back in his chair casually, making a clean slice into his meat. “You do look so enchanting when you

over. It in no way surprised me that I was watched, yet ripples of agitation wound around my neck as though a band had been clamped around it, squeezing on my airways. My stomach lurched again in a motion

to eat,” he drained his glass, pouring a second

chocolatey scent

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