Accepting My Twin Mates

Chapter 91

Accepting My Twin Mates Chapter 91

CHAPTER 88 – AN INSTINCT OR A GUESS?

Evgeniya

I had been so engrossed in Bastiaan’s words, I hadn’t seen my father moving at all, let alone attempt to stand.

“Dad!” I shot up, shaking out the cramp in my legs “Are you ok? How’s your heart? Does anywhere hu- oooh my goddess!”

I slapped a hand over my eyes too late as my father stood, seeing him naked far more times than I ever wanted.

I heard him grunt in exertion and a flip of fabric. When I tentatively peered through my fingers, he had wrapped a bedsheet about his waist and fisted it at the hip. The only visible black marks on his skin were his tattoos. The dark tendrils that had spread on his right side where he was shot with wolfsbane had faded and vanished, but an angry red mark remained, burning vibrantly like a hornet’s sting.

“Solnyshko, I am fine,” his tight smile, thin voice and distended vein on his neck from effort suggested he wasn’t entirely truthful.

He placed his palm on his glass prison for as long as he could and I mirrored him, the silver thread within the plate hot against the pad of my hand. A tear betrayed me, slipping down my cheek faster than I could wipe away. I prided myself on self-reliance, never needing anyone. How I felt currently, I would give anything to break this damn glass apart to have the embrace of my father.

“The name you speak?” His head turned in Bastiaan’s direction, his hand dropping to his side. “You say, Galina, yes?”

“Sir,” the vampire rose to his feet, crossing the length of his cell. “Your daughter has been most worried for you, perhaps you should-”

“I said give me name!” My father lost his patience, silencing the atmosphere with his thunder and a fist to the wall.

Diego, who had remained with his back to the glass this whole time, slowly spun his neck in the direction of my father, an equally mixed expression of impressed and intimidated crossing his face.

“Uh, yes, Galina,” Bastiaan’s throat bobbed and he unconsciously backed up a step. “And from your rather distinct tone that mirrors hers, you are a relation?”

“My older sister… she was here?”

That was it! When he told me of his pack, he spoke of an older sister, Galina… my aunt.

“Your name is Konstantin, isn’t it? She spoke of you often,” Bastiaan’s gaze switched between me and the wall that separated him and my father. “…You’re lycans.”

“Lycans?! ¡Ay diosa mío, hostia! (Oh my goddess, bloody hell!) I thought you were pulling my leg, Bastiaan!” Diego attempted to stand so quickly, he nearly tripped over his own feet. “Ok, you need to tell us your story, you’ve heard ours. Except for your poor padre (father). He was too passed out.”

“I thought I was only survivor…” my father mumbled, his gaze drifting downwards.

“That is what she thought also. Sometimes, when she was a little more lucid, she spoke of almost feeling family. But, she wasn’t sure if it was real or wishful thinking.”

“Dad, didn’t you say something similar?” I recalled what he said. As fast as he would sense her, the bond would fade. “Marceau mentioned in his little villain speech about the lycan she-wolf here being on ‘loan’. She was only here to see how she fared in a fight. Maybe she’s still alive somewhere?”

“Do you truly sense your bond with her, Konstantin?” A small bloom of hope lit up the vampire’s features, so pure it was painful.

“It is rare vspyshka…” my father struggled for the right English word, making a bursting gesture with his hand.

“Flash, flicker?” I filled in his gap.

“Flicker, yes. She could be alive…”

“So does this mean you’re kinda my uncle, like through marriage sort of thing?” I connected the dots of how destiny had led me to be in an opposite cell across from the very probable mate to my aunt.

“It is a somewhat stretch, but since you may be the only family I have left, I think I would like that position,” he smiled at me gently.

How fate operated was truly trippy.

“This is a real sweet family reunion, but I would like to know how the f**k, lycans are here!” Diego drew our attention with his waning patience.

“Ok, keep your tattoos on,” I huffed, rolling my eyes around their sockets. If this man wasn’t Catalina’s mate, I would be floored. “I didn’t even know I was a lycan. Despite looking like a giant, I thought I was a wolfless Omega. Until one morning, I hear a voice in my head, my wolf Evva…”

Between my father and I, we told them everything we knew, starting from running away from my mates and finishing with being sold by said mates’ own parent.

“…And now, I don’t know if anyone else was in on it, or if my mates are in danger too. They’ll never suspect their father of doing this, they love him too much. They have their differences, but to them, Isaac’s only ever been a loving father. Astennu and Badru would never believe he’s been selling rogues.”

“Joder (f**k),” Diego drawled a low curse. “No wonder you weren’t surprised by what my padre did. s**t, what your Alpha did was way worse.”

“I think I may have some choice words for him,” Bastiaan glowered, his eyes pulsating a molten gold, despite the now bright sunlight. “Beginning with kut.”

“Now who’s vulgar?” Diego chuckled darkly.

“Do I even wanna know what it means?”

“Add an ‘N’ and I think you understand the translation,” he grinned in wicked humour, his elongated white canines flashing brightly.

As my chest lightly rumbled with a peal of faint laughter, my lower stomach rolled and clenched. I gripped my abdomen as a cramp once again crept into my womb, feeling like some strange middle ground of an ache and nausea. I steadied myself on the glass in case my legs gave into gravity. Nothing felt abnormal, the tiny bond was a whisper yet strong as ever. This wonderful sensation was just the first of many pregnancy symptoms to come over the impending months.

“Evgeniya,” my father’s strong voice laced with worry drew up my gaze. “You are hurt?”

I shook my head a fraction too quickly, spinning my surroundings harshly in a split second. “No no, I’m fine. It’s nothing.”

Patting the area as discreetly as possible, I hoped he would understand the signal. My words couldn’t be said aloud; the expectancy growing in my uterus needed to be kept a secret for as long as it could be concealed. His life would be another pawn used against my father to keep him in submission.

His life…?

My thoughts screeched to a halt at my innocuous slip and my belly fluttered with the tiny bond, a pleasant tingle tightening my heart. A boy…

Was this an instinct or a guess?

‘No, I think you’re right… our pup, he’s our little man,’ Evva preened, wanting to nuzzle into our little life’s tether that connected us.

I was having a boy? Could Astennu and Badru feel him, us, across the silver confinement, ocean and continent that separated us? There was no perceptible tell pulling me to which twin our son belonged. Would they be able to tell, or would they even care, choosing to raise him as joint fathers?

The sounds of boots echoed, nearing our cells. The same guard as before, sporting the bruise given by curtsy from Diego, stopped between mine and my father’s cells. He raised a brow at my hunched-over frame, supported upon the glass. Straightening my spine and backing away, I gritted my teeth in counter to the dull ache dissipating. The last thing I needed was these people thinking something was wrong and sending me off for tests. Tests that would reveal my most precious secret.

Eying me with one last silent and stoic gaze, he moved past our cells to enter somewhere on the right of my field of vision. All I could see was a solid sleek navy wall that matched the three surrounding me. There were no cells beyond. My father watched him like a hawk where he stood opposite with a clear view. From the glints of reflection on his glass, it looked as though it was a storage room of sorts.

A sharp slam of its door and the guard reappeared carrying two flat drooping parcels of black. The narrow grid I thought was fixed opened and in slid the folded wad of black fabric; one for me, one for my father.

Once he was gone, I hesitantly picked it up, unfolding it to reveal similar attire that Bastiaan and Diego wore; a black long-sleeved t-shirt and thin joggers, gathered at the ankle.

‘Oh joy,’ Evva wrinkled her nose at the sterile-smelling fabric. ‘Because we weren’t enough of an inmate.’

‘Yeah, but the shirt’s huge, it might help hide any bumps,’ I held it up taking in the size that was clearly made for a man. ‘For all these guards know, our pregnancy scent is our normal scent… for now at least.’

“They always so chatty?” I threw down the clothing, having no desire to change, even though I felt thoroughly gross in the dress I still wore from the attempted tea with Luna Qamar.

“I have never heard one speak around us, not once in the twenty years I’ve been here,” Bastiaan answered. “Their faces change but they are always silent. They communicate only via mind-link with each other, it seems.”

Returning a third time, the guard now carried two trays. Using the metal grid of the door as a shelf, he didn’t wait to see if I took it and turned to deliver an identical tray to my father.

Thin-cut steak and poached eggs? With melon on the side? I was expecting an unidentifiable meat in the shape of a loaf and a questionable slop that could be grits, oatmeal or a predigested vomit, not a restaurant-quality meal.

“Put me with my daughter,” my father demanded, glowering down at the guard he towered over.

The man completely ignored the insistence, sliding the tray through the hatch.

“f**k your food!” He yelled, shoving the tray away before the guard had even let go and sent its contents flying across the corridor. “I want my daughter!”

A string of Russian slurs followed, too rapid and snarled through anger for me to discern where one ended and another began. And he said that my inability to hold my tongue came from my mother. I wasn’t so sure it exclusively came from her.

The guard remained unfazed and simply strolled away without returning.

“Dad, please don’t. You told me to be careful what I say, now I’m telling you,” I pleaded, the memory of him writhing on the floor and physically dying in front of me replayed with a punishing vividity. “…I can’t see that again.”

A harsh bolt of regret clouded his eyes and his free hand clenched closed in a fist.

“I would listen to her, Konstantin, if I were you,” for the first time since opening his mouth, Diego’s tone was serious. “You looked like hell when they dragged you in here in the night.”

“They will use unpleasant force if you continue. Far worse than what you have experienced to date,” Bastiaan’s features twisted, twenty years of cruel memories floating to the surface. “And if you can, Evie, clean yourself and change now. The others will be returning soon and you are the only woman here. My vampire coven peers and a few of the rogues are decent people, but not all of the others here are innocent. Some have done quite terrible things.”

I regarded the small panel of frosted glass, plucking at my scruffy knit dress and my dishevelled hair. I felt grimy. The layer of stress and sweat dug into my skin like an unsavoury second blanket. But neither was I ready to let go of my inhibitions and strip naked in front of anyone, especially not my father.

When I turned my sights back through the window, my father was already pulling up the pants he’d been given and throwing the shirt to the side. He didn’t seem to give a flying f**k about nudity and even less about self-care. His years living in the wilds had prepared him far better for all this than I was.

“Rest assured I shan’t look,” the vampire turned away and my father wasn’t in sight either.

“You’d better not, or I’ll make good on my aunt’s threat.”

The shower was basic but contained everything I needed; a block of unscented soap, which would work against me, a fixed dispenser containing a pearly liquid, most likely shampoo, a comb attached to a thin chain to the wall and even… Property © of NôvelDrama.Org.

“They give you a shaving razor? Seriously?”

Like the comb, it was attached to the tiles on a short length.

“Providing it is always left behind, they have little care what you use it for,” Bastiaan spoke, his back continuing to face me.

“They check your cell after you’re let out,” Diego shouted from out of sight. “They find anything missing, they’ll lay your culo (ass) out. That’s how I got my first week’s detention; I slashed a guard from his wrist to his elbow.”

“And our Spaniard was strung up in silver for the duration and beaten,” Bastiaan threw over his shoulder. “Take his experience as a prime example of the ramifications should you wish to protect your culo.”

“What if an inmate uses it on themselves?” I asked the dark and loaded question.

“Marceau earns himself an empty space to fill with a new face,” he shot me a brief grim look. “We are commodities, traded and restocked. Nothing more.”

A heavy lump grew in the back of my throat. Bastiaan’s non-confirmation was answer enough. The people held here were of little consequence and easily replaced. Was that how mine and my father’s cells came to be empty? There had to be another avenue of escape. Every surface had a weak spot; all needed was to find it. My father… and my son depended on it.

‘Yeah, no sweat,’ Evva grumbled. ‘Find a weak spot in a technologically advanced prison owned by a megalomaniac.’

Just as I grasped the hem of my skirt to lift over my head after combing the knots from my hair, a loud ruckus of voices speaking over each other, footsteps and the occasional shout vibrated the floor to life. I dropped the material like a hot cake, not wanting to be caught naked by a bunch of men that, like Diego, hadn’t seen a woman in years. As mine was the last cell, there shouldn’t be passers-by, but I wasn’t about to be caught short.

What alarmed me most was how silent the atmosphere grew, and rapidly so. Bastiaan’s eyes hardened at what he saw approaching; the first time I had seen anything close to a freezing venom swirling around his golden eyes.

“De ninguna puta manera (no f*****g way),” I heard Diego utter under his breath.

My door opened with a slow sweep, narrowly avoiding the tray of steak and eggs I had placed on the polished wood floor. Hearing my father’s snarl told me before he stepped into view who my visitor was…

…Marceau.

“It seems you’ve been keeping a secret from me, mon chérie,” his oily smile spread and his predatory eyes swept my figure, landing on my stomach.