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.

just a pretty

these finely chiselled muscles, bruises and tattoos, tía (girl),” he flexed his bare-chested physique playfully, preening like a peacock. “There’s a pretty

mind present when you’re calling the guards gilipollas?” I raised a brow at

in question at my father

long while, his eyes held a twinkle of genuine amusement.

smile… you look

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 distract my father since he had woken from the after-effects of whatever foul tranquilliser they used and the exhaustion of his match. I

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 put it down to the bond with my pup, blanketing my troubles for a reprieve. My little winkle was growing as strong

tac toe, my dad had

I thought going first would win

why I win,” he said in his dad-tone filled with wisdom. “You thought you had won and grew

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

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

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

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

fine,” I mouthed silently to my

he would worry regardless, but it made me feel better, like a lie to myself that everything would be

only route I didn’t know yet was the one

greeted me from the table nestled in

off, the darkness illuminated only by 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 the centre, surrounded by bowls of

the furthest seat, but I knew

always,” he snatched my hand, holding it

as Pepé Le Pew’s lips don’t wander anywhere else,’ Evva snarled

saturated my taste buds, beating

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

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

of rebellion, the only things I could

the cameras,” a cruel smirk twisted his lips as he sat back in his chair casually, making a clean slice into his meat. “You do look so enchanting when

of this would be 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

glass, pouring a second

the edge of the table, something that looked akin to a brownie. The rich chocolatey scent hit me, too rich, too overbearing, too sickly. My insides churned and the food I

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