Cinder's Wolf: A Shifter Retelling of Cinderella (A BBW Shifter Fairy Tale Retelling Book 2) by Sylvia Frost Read Free Book Online Page A

geometrically perfect square jaw, meticulously slicked-back sandy hair, blue eyes that pinned her in place, and a body that even hidden in a tuxedo was clearly well formed, it all added up to one man.
    Rex West.
    The host of the feral masquerade. The Prince of Wall Street. Or the wolf of it. It depended on which tabloid you asked. His mask, a minimalist face of a wolf in black velvet covering only his eyes and forehead, clearly held with the latter interpretation.
    Damn.
    With everyone staring at her, running wasn’t an option, and Rex knew it. He slowed to a stroll, never breaking eye contact.
    Cynthia bit her tongue, hoping that would stop the red blush from stinging her cheeks. It didn’t matter if he could see it or not. She could feel it, and she knew it wasn’t just from embarrassment.
    The crowd closed behind him, and he stopped a few feet in front of her. His shoes were polished enough that they should’ve squeaked on the floor, but he made not a sound. Neither did anyone else. Rex inclined his head, the twinkling of his blue eyes not hiding the command implicit in the gesture.
    His silent order tugged at Cynthia in a way she had felt only once before. A man dressed too well to be out hiking, touching her just the way she had always wanted, but could never vocalize.
    It’s not the same guy. That would be insane.
    Her ankle burned.
    Before it could get worse, Cynthia gave him a polite smile that she knew didn’t reach her eyes, nodded, and turned her back on the richest man in Manhattan.
    The moment their eye contact broke, Cynthia felt a piece of her soul return to her body. However, her relief was edged by the throbbing of her foot. The ribbons winding up her ankle and the Band-Aid covered her mark, but only just. She hoped it wasn’t suddenly cancerous. She’d make a doctor’s appointment later.
    Cynthia nicked a glass of champagne and downed all of it in a single gulp. To her relief the string quartet finally started up again, the minuet melting into a waltz. Christine would’ve known the composer.
    Someone tapped her on shoulder.
    Oh no.
    A strangely familiar shiver arched up her spine as the scent of leather, sage, and something darker, something richer, seemed to seep into her very pores.
    Velvet lips brushed her ear. “Dance with me.”

Chapter 7
    H umans didn’t understand true beauty. How could they? It was impossible for them to know how hard won feminine grace was when they didn’t have a wild beast clawing at their chest. So human men encouraged women to tan their limbs, stuff their bras, and staple their stomachs until they resembled plastic blow-up dolls designed to appeal to the lowest common denominator of male fantasy. But Rex was no man, so he appreciated every luscious inch of the woman in front of him.
    His mate’s face was hidden beneath a wolf’s mask crusted in cubic zirconium, but he could still see the extra pounds softening her features into feminine elegance. A few stray strands of her blonde hair had managed to escape her maze-like updo and brushed against her bare, rounded shoulders. Below that, the promise of her breasts swelled up from the shimmering fabric of her gown.
    Gods. Her body made his wolf stand up and take notice. Her mouth-wateringly thick curves had practically been poured into the tight, silvery gown. When she turned from him, her lips set in a charming pout, her dress flashed like a fishing lure.
    He wanted to throw her down and rip off her dress with his teeth right on the dance floor. He settled for smiling, careful to conceal his canines. “So?”
    “So what?” she said breathily, still not meeting his gaze and worse, trying to step further away from him. She didn’t recognize him. He wasn’t sure whether to be relieved at the fresh start or angry at being forgotten.
    His wolf decided on neither. It wanted her too much to feel any emotion besides hunger. Take her. Rex inhaled, the breath so deep it stretched the merino wool of his tux jacket. His