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.
