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,

pretty face, ay

tattoos, tía (girl),” he flexed

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

in question at my father

of genuine amusement. The dark circles looked a little more faded

smile… you look like your

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

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

two more moves of tic tac toe, my dad had

I thought going first

said in his dad-tone filled with

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

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

window, the last rays of the sun were vanishing at speed. I hadn’t been summoned for a dinner in two days and I was overdue. As if on cue, the sound of boots approached, followed

knew the routine well by now. I was only glad that it coincided with a

fine,” I mouthed

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

only route I didn’t know yet

chérie,” Marceau’s slimy voice greeted me from the table nestled in front of

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

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 himself as

it fast against my pull

Le Pew’s lips don’t wander anywhere

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

all part of 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

glass, filling it with a

in my mouth. These were my tiny acts of rebellion, the only things

on 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

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

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

nearer the edge of the table, something that looked akin to a brownie. The rich chocolatey scent hit me,

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