Cinder and Char Read Online Free PDF

Ulfric thundered.
    “I’m afraid the terran’s right, Prince Ulfric,” mouthed Ziri, one of the aged advisors who used to council his father.
    It took some time for Ulfric to calm down, but by the time his men restrained Char and his men, he looked like his normal self again.
    “Fine. Then let them rot in the palace dungeons for all eternity.” Ulfric leered at Char. “How’s that sound, brother? I’ll place you and your mate in side-by-side cells. How will it feel, knowing your mate’s so near, but you’ll never touch or see him again?”
    Howling and shaking with unsurpassed rage, Char nearly lost it then. Before his wolf managed to surge through the surface and tear apart his human skin, a stunner was jabbed at his ribs. The sharp sting of electricity rendered his entire body numb. Char could only helplessly watch as Cinder was torn from his side. His feisty mate fought his captors, but he was easily subdued.
    Curse this. He hated feeling helpless and useless. Char couldn’t even protect his mate, much less his own people. Ulfric’s words haunted him. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what it would feel like, knowing a mere wall separated him from his mate.
    Hadn’t he promised Cinder he’d show him a new and better world where he didn’t have to dance for credits? All Char had ended up doing was shoving his mate into a cramped and dank cell.

Chapter 4
    Cinder beheld the only comfort object he’d managed to salvage with a sigh. He began to turn the glass stiletto over and over his hands, glad to have kept the gorgeous heels under his clothes when they were captured. Although honestly, how Ulfric’s men hadn’t seen them was beyond him. Cinder was careful when he took out the shoes, only bringing them out when he knew no one looking, for fear they might be confiscated.
    They were the only little beam of sunshine in his dreary stone prison. What century did the shifters think they were living in? Their dungeons looked right out of a medieval terran book. Even his homeworld’s government had better taste than this.
    He wasn’t sure how long he’d been imprisoned, but he was frightened for the state of his sanity. He hadn’t had a bath in ages and his once-favorite sexy silver bodysuit was reduced to rags. Cinder grudgingly realized he was a creature of comforts and without his accessories, clothes, heels, dancing, and his Char, he was going to go slowly insane.
    “Hold on a damn second. My Char?” Cinder echoed his thoughts out loud. “The last thing I want is a man who’s responsible for landing me here in the first place.”
    His hands—his un-manicured hands, mind you—tightened on the glass heels. Why couldn’t Char have been besotted with another stripper? Why did it have to be him?
    Cinder had been content in his own little world, doing his little dances and accumulating his vast collection of heels, but no, Char had to barge in his life and ruin everything.
    “Much good you did me, Prince Char. Oh wait, you aren’t a prince anymore, are you?” Cinder muttered bitterly.
    Now he couldn’t even dance. Or could he? He still had one pair of heels, didn’t he?
    Cinder dragged himself away from his hard wooden plank and peeked out the bars of his cell. He looked left and right. The corridor was empty. The guards were probably changing shift. Only the lighted torches in their sconces and the occasional growls coming from some of the imprisoned wolves greeted him.
    Char was abnormally silent in the cell beside his, for which Cinder was glad. He wasn’t sure how many languages the man was capable of cursing in.
    “When life throws you lemons, make lemonade,” Cinder declared to no one. He eased his dirty feet into the glass heels, wincing as the glass took on more smudges.
    “Ah, my little beauties. You feel good.” Cinder sighed like a man in throes of a slow and wonderful lovemaking.
    It occurred to him this was the first time he’d worn the heels and they felt damnably right, like