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.

a pretty face, ay

bruises and tattoos, tía (girl),” he flexed his bare-chested

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

question at my father as he

twinkle of genuine amusement. The dark circles looked a little

look like

cheeks 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

in the last few hours, the inner strain on my bond had eased somewhat, tugging away still, but not

of tic tac toe,

first would win it for

dad-tone filled

side. Like my wolf, my eyes were beginning to 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

cells were presently empty. 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

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

glad that it coincided with a day

be fine,” I mouthed silently to

regardless, but it made me

the usual route. The only route I didn’t know yet was the one that would lead to

voice greeted me from the table nestled

the fire

furthest seat, but I knew he wouldn’t. He would sit himself as close as possible, knowing it would bristle me and

look exquisite, as always,” he snatched my hand, holding it fast against

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

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

game of control, and carved up slices of the roasted meat, sliding them onto my plate. Next, he spooned the vegetables

his glass, filling it with a pale rosé wine.

silent, my scowl deepening 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

you 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

of agitation wound around my neck as though a band had been clamped around it, squeezing on my airways. My stomach lurched

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

lid from the dome nearer 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 had just demolished

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