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

wolf’s impatience was foolish. She had only been able to run after their first meeting all those years ago because the bond hadn’t been consummated, but, now, fully a woman, there was no way she’d be able to resist him tonight.
    “I asked if you’d like to dance with me.” Rex offered his hand, palm up.
    She regarded it with skepticism. “Sorry, I’d love to, but I have to get going. You know how it is. Work.”
    “This is work. You’re networking.” His voice dropped a half octave as his inner wolf prowled between his shoulder blades. “With me.”
    Her ruby lips pursed. “I haven’t danced in a long time.”
    “Anyone can waltz. I’m not worried. We’ll be great together.”
    “I…” With her mask on, he couldn’t see her blush, but he did notice her breath catch in her throat. Of course she couldn’t fight her need for him. He was her mate, not to mention the most eligible bachelor in Manhattan for Astrums’s sake. It was for her own good that they needed to complete the bond sooner rather than later.
    The string quartet descended into a shimmering scale at triple the previous tempo. “Unless you’re too afraid?” This time when he smiled, he couldn’t conceal his teeth.
    His mate tilted her head, as if trying to place him. His inner wolf’s tail curled in anticipation, but Rex made sure to keep the parts of his face not covered from the mask just as hard to read as the ones that were.
    Satisfied with her appraisal, she stepped forward, brusque, the sequins on her gown shhing behind her like a whisper. Her grip was firm, warm, and sent a jolt straight to his wolf. And his cock. His mate must have felt it too because she gave a small gasp as his hand ran over the sequin-ridged fabric of her back. Up and up.
    He stopped just before he reached the hem, knowing if he touched bare skin it would be the end of them both. They had to start moving. Taking three tight steps, he guided her away from the table. She followed slowly, but sure. The toes of his polished shoes would be safe in her care.
    After they found a rhythm, he decided it was time to try conversing again. “I’m Rex West.”
    “I know who you are,” she said tersely, but then she bit her lip and continued in a flat tone. As if this really were just a networking event. “I’m Cynthia.”
    “Cynthia,” he repeated without meaning to. He hadn’t admitted to himself how long he had been waiting for that name, but now that he did, the whole world sang. “Cynthia what?”
    “You’ll have to get a second dance for that.” Hints of flirtatiousness slipped through her monotone.
    The cellos dragged their bows through the minor melody, and Rex swirled Cynthia through a one-two-three step. Cynthia—gods, he could repeat her name again and again—reacted to his slightest movements, as responsive and impossible to grasp as water.
    His wolf hummed low inside of him, urging him on. Rex dipped her. It must’ve taken her by surprise because she arched instinctively, revealing the bare column of her neck. Her eyelashes were pale blonde against her cheeks. He wanted to mark those cheeks, her neck. All of her.
    He had never before been tempted to use the power of his werecall, the ability all werewolves had to compel others with their voices, but now he was. Just a simple whisper in her ear, and she’d let go of whatever it was that was holding her back. She’d fuck him right here, for the whole world to see.
    No.
    He was not that beast. He wasn’t sure he could be if he tried. He’d never used his werecall before. He hadn’t needed too.
    With a flourish, the violas moved onto the next measure, and he pulled her upright. “You’re a pretty good dancer, for being so reluctant.”
    “I said that I hadn’t danced in a while, not that I couldn’t.” She focused straight ahead and held up her elbows in a high, formal posture to prove the point.
    “And what about me?” He stroked the edge of one of the sequins in her dress, enjoying