Cinder and Char (2 page)

The former stripper didn’t shrink back as Char turned and loomed over him.

“Get this into your sparkly little head, Cinder. You’re now mine.”

Defiant green eyes glared back at him.

“Get this into your hard head, mister. I’m not a slave with no free will of my own. According to the Intergalactic Employment Act in the Ever-after Galaxy Inter-planet Accords, I’ll only be your employee until my contract expires. It means I’m only yours for three more weeks and I don’t intend to renew it.”

“Three weeks?” Char demanded. Cinder looked unnerved by his expression. “I can work with three weeks. Now pack your things, we’re leaving this shithole of a planet.”

“So Sulli mentioned you were some sort of prince, or is that an exaggeration?” Cinder asked.

He'd made himself at home, sprawled on the comfortable couches in the ship’s lounge. Brill and Sulli weren’t kidding when they'd mentioned the shifter was loaded. The Big Bad IX was a sleek state-of-the-art hybrid ship—half military vessel and half pleasure craft. Its shape reminded Cinder of a picnic basket with wings. The color of its drab and silver-blue military exterior was depressingly mediocre, but Cinder was treated to the sight of a colorful interior. It reminded him of the lush inside of a gaudy and overpriced art deco hotel room, and he heartily approved.

The man in front of him, Char, his employer and temporary slaver, looked similarly relaxed. Gods of the Galaxy, was the man one gorgeous brute to look at.

Char wasn’t the galaxy standard pretty-boy type, but he had a roguish, handsome space pirate look to him. There was slight stubble on his square jaw, a crown of messy raven-black hair, and slightly unnerving amber eyes. Cinder couldn’t help notice the sexy little scar near his bottom lip when he spoke.

Cinder could also feast on those oodles and oodles of hard and well-defined muscles under his tight military suit. Whenever the shifter reached out for something, be it a vid-screen of reports or his drink, the muscles of his biceps and triceps flexed back unerringly at Cinder.

That thick chest too. Cinder couldn’t even begin to imagine how Char’s chest looked under his suit. Would he have a fine sprinkling of hair down his chest and amazing abs? Cinder imagined a specimen like Char had amazing abs.

“Well, aren’t you going to answer me?” Cinder demanded.

He refused to be daunted or become unnerved by the way the large shifter was simply just looking at him. Was he assessing Cinder the way Cinder assessed him, or was he simply gauging how he could use Cinder to his advantage?

Whatever it was, Cinder wasn’t going to simply allow the attractive bozo to do with him whatever he liked. He’d even brought along a digital copy of the Intergalactic Employment Act in case Char wanted him to do something illegal.

“Indeed. My full title is Alpha Prince Char Charming of the Charming wolf clan, leader of all of Planet Woof.”

“That’s a mouthful,” Cinder remarked, slightly impressed.

He didn’t think the man was lying, because it was evident by the ship and the burly guards constantly walking about. Char also occasionally excused himself to attend what Cinder assumed were stately calls.

“And what exactly will I be doing for you, Prince Char?” Cinder asked.

“Char will do. With regards to what I want, do you remember my present to you on stage?”

Cinder patted the visible bulk in his jacket where the delicate glass heels were carefully stowed. He wasn’t worried about his other meager belongings disappearing, although Char’s second, Gunter, had complained about the dozen cases containing his precious shoe collection.

The glass heels though, were special. Cinder had seen and touched nothing like them. Leaving them alone in a traveling case was sacrilege.

Char chuckled, as if he’d known all along what was in Cinder’s jacket.

“You can’t have them back. They’re mine. You gave them to me.”

“Indeed. Do you know what those glass heels represent, Cinder?” Char had an amused look in his yellow eyes, making Cinder a little distrustful of his intentions.

“What do these gorgeous shoes have to do with what I’m supposed to do for you?” he asked defensively, squirming away when Char slid closer to him on the couch.

Char didn’t seem offended by his gesture, nor did he command Cinder to stay put. If Cinder was supposedly his purchased sex slave, he wasn’t close to treating him like one.

Oh, my. A gentlemanly alpha werewolf. How shockingly modern. What was the galaxy coming to?

“I’m getting to the point. Did you know those glass slippers are a national treasure for my planet? A family heirloom, if you will.”

“You can’t have them back,” Cinder repeated.

Annoyance flickered in Char’s eyes, but he continued. “As I was saying. Every ruler of Woof is given those heels to present to his mate.”

Cinder nearly hyperventilated at those words.

Mate? Despite coming from a backwater homeworld and working in a dump like Kies, he wasn’t a complete backward planet-billy. He knew the denizens of most shifter-inhabited planets mated for life, and being someone’s mate was as good as an officially binding marriage. Cinder had also heard a rumor from somewhere that shifters transferred unique body-altering compounds to their mate during a mating ritual, enabling them to become pregnant. Cinder would rather die than walk and feel like a whale for a few months.

“Why would you give something like this to me?”

“What do you think, Cinder?”

While he kept his hands contained, Char looked like he wanted to devour Cinder both inside and out, have his body as well as his heart. Cinder didn’t think he would mount much of a resistance when it came to the demands of his body, but his heart, he’d keep. Thank you very much. Surely the wolf prince was having him on.

“Is this some kind of joke?”

Cinder nearly jumped out from his seat when Char slammed his fist down the coffee table. The prince’s hands blurred into the dangerous outline of claws before blurring back to human skin.

Char took a breath. “I never make jokes, Cinder. You’re my fated mate and I’ve been searching all over the galaxy for you. I don’t intend to back away.”

Cinder withdrew the treasure from his jacket and held them out. Despite how the delicate and beautiful heels glittered in all their finery, owning them wasn’t worth it, was it? Cinder’s eyes flicked from the heels to the gorgeous man in front of him.

Hadn’t the young and naïve him always imagined being spirited away from the strip club by some prince from a far-flung and exotic planet?

“What do you intend to do with little old me?” Cinder was asking for it, and he knew it. He couldn’t help tempting the predator, though. The way the alpha werewolf was becoming so damnably possessive just by this single conversation was pushing away his sass and calling to his hidden submissive side.

Char’s thick fingers hovered on Cinder’s knee, and this time Cinder didn’t pull away. He watched, captivated and mesmerized, as the alpha’s hand trailed up to rest on his thigh. His cock hardened with the proximity of all that male strength.

“I can smell your arousal flooding beneath your tight little latex bodysuit, Cinder,” Char observed, his voice deep and husky with ill-restrained desire. “I admit the hot pink outfit suits you quite well. It covers your juicy body, but it hides nothing from the imagination.”

Cinder shivered, growing hot. Heat sizzled from his belly and insides and straight to his cock. He admittedly had a weakness for men who appreciated his superb fashion sense. Char had hit him hard from all angles by complimenting his clothes, by calling to his love for heels, and simply for being such a gorgeous and muscled male specimen.

“Ah yes, I wore this one-piece with the intention of seducing you, Prince Char,” Cinder said dryly.

The remains of his bravado were swept away when Char’s strong hands lifted him and positioned Cinder on his lap, facing him. Even with his legs spread on either side of Char’s muscular thighs and his erection staring back at Char, Cinder refused to be embarrassed.

He was about to cross his arms against his chest to let out an indignant huff, but Char caught his wrists easily. Cinder’s breath hitched. The prince’s hands felt unbelievably large, warm, and rough against his smooth skin. It was alarmingly easy to think about what those hands could do to him.

“What are you doing, you ill-mannered brute? Princes don’t manhandle their princesses.”

Char snorted. “I doubt I’m the kind of prince most damsels-in-distress dream of. I just want to examine the merchandise—the mate—I’ve purchased.”

Cinder colored. How dare the man refer to him as merchandise?

Damn. It was such a turn-on, though, and it called to all the times he’d had dirty slave-captor fantasies and pleasured himself in the tiny capsule apartment he shared with his oblivious elf roommate. Cinder tried not to squirm under Char’s inquisitive gaze. He didn’t like feeling so exposed and so open to the other man’s intense examination.

Cinder took deep breaths. He tried regaining his composure and the tattered remains of his dignity.

“If I’m supposed to be your fated mate, then you shouldn’t have to purchase me. Going along that line of thinking, shouldn’t I be swooning and willing by now?”

He swallowed when Char released his hands to push the jacket from his shoulders, then play with zipper at the base of his throat. Cinder’s pulse throbbed in response.

“You’re willing enough not to fight me, aren’t you, princess?”

It would’ve been a thousand times better if Char simply jerked the zipper down, but no, he took his time so Cinder could practically hear the metal sigh as it unveiled more of his flesh.

“Get on with it,” Cinder whispered, hating the vulnerability creeping into his voice. “Stop tormenting me.”

“Why should I, when I know how you crave being tormented?” Amusement mingled with hunger in Char’s wolf-like eyes.

“I don’t like being tormented at all.” It was a weak argument. Cinder was about to cave in, to yield with helpless and reckless abandon and they both knew it.

“Do you see how your body’s straining to rub against mine, or the way your prick’s straining against the fabric of your bodysuit?”

Down the zipper went, exposing his bare chest and belly, still creeping downwards to bare the rest of him.

Cinder shuddered, feeling everything. He was aware of his legs lewdly on display for the feral prince in front of him. The feral prince who seemed capable of devouring him in a few bites.

“Your talented little mouth can spin a hundred tales, Cinder, but your body doesn’t lie. Now, hands on your thighs. Don’t move them.”

Cinder obeyed the order mindlessly, the latex sliding smoothly beneath his fingertips.

Char left the zipper and the hot pink fabric hanging about Cinder’s waist and leaned close. Char’s mouth captured one of his nipples, making Cinder draw in a shaky breath. Heat caressed the sensitive area before Cinder felt the slight edge of descending teeth.

Char’s bite mercilessly delivered a bolt of desire from the soles of his feet to his addled brain. Cinder supposed a part of his brain had been misplaced, but he had no interest in getting it back. His back arched, and he let out one soundless cry. Char’s hands trailed down the length of his body, his touches firm and lacking any ounce of gentleness.

Char withdrew his mouth, licking his lips with obvious satisfaction.

“You taste so fine, Cinder. I can’t wait to have you. Do you know how hard it is for me?”

“What’s hard?”

Cinder could feel the slight ache of Char’s bite. For a moment he wanted to leap out of Char’s lap to see if the prince had left behind an imprint of his teeth. What was happening to him? Cinder had never had a thing for possessive and handsome rough men, but Char marking him seemed inexplicably right.

Char moved to his other nipple. Cinder watched the wolf’s tongue run a lazy circle around the nub, leaving a wet trail. It made Cinder shiver. Again, Char’s mouth latched onto the flesh. Again, the prince sent another wave of desire through him.

“Restraining myself from simply pushing you on the ground and fucking you…” Char growled almost absently.

“Oh, Gods.” If Char was capable of rendering him to a silly swooning and moaning creature by just lavishing attention on his nipples, he wasn’t sure he could take more of this.

Weren’t shifters known for rough handling and even rougher sex? Why did Char handle him like a piece of treasure, like he was one of those specially bred virgin concubines sought by kings and emperors from wealthy planets? Didn’t the man know Cinder was just a simple mortal with great fashion sense?

“Your gods have nothing to do with this, but I can assure you the primal deities of my planet revel in all manner of pleasure.”

“It was just an expression.” Cinder gave up explaining and trying to fight so hard.

“So sweet. So fine.”

Char licked at the hollow of his collarbone and Cinder wondered if he was going to mark him there too. “I want everyone to see you’re mine, Cinder. That you belong to me and me alone.”

“I think there’s a term for being too much of an alpha male.”

The hand wandering back to the forgotten zipper stopped. No, Cinder thought, trying to press forward so Char’s hand brushed against the metal again. All he ended up doing was making the big man laugh.

“You like big, bad alphas though, don’t you Cinder? But you’re terrified of completely surrendering yourself, both body and soul.”

Char’s words reverberated through him. How the prince managed to hit the mark, Cinder never knew.

“You said my body never lies and maybe that’s true. You can have my body and mark it all you want, Char, but my soul and heart will never belong to you.”

Cinder gasped when Char pulled him forward for a damning kiss and began to consume him. The kiss incinerated any whisper of brewing rebellion. The rough pads of Char’s fingers fastened tightly against the nape of his neck, preventing escape, although Cinder had no intentions of flight.

Char sucked and nibbled at his lower lip with reckless abandon, as if he never wanted to forget Cinder’s taste. Cinder eventually opened his mouth to receive Char’s heat, which flooded down his throat like a golden rush.