Page 23 of Plus-Size Mate

Only a few words had escaped her lips before one of the wolves slammed a fist hard into her stomach, driving the wind right out of her lungs.

She doubled over. The only thing holding her up now was their grip on her arms and the way she hung burned her shoulders even worse than before.

Gasping for air, she tried to chant again, but this time they released her, dropping her face-first onto the floor.

Blinding pain lanced through her body the second she hit the hard wood, and she screamed out in agony as she felt like her nose had burst against the floor.

“Stop fighting. This will go easier on you if you just stop fighting,” one of the werewolves said as he gripped her by the roots of her hair and started to pull her back to her feet.

Blinded by pain, desperate for breath, all Winter could do was grab his hand and try to hold a little of her weight in order to stop him from pulling the roots of her hair right out of her head.

The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth and instinctively, she spat it at the boots of the werewolf who came to stand in front of her.

“You little bitch!” he cursed angrily. “These are new boots!”

He lifted one, and Winter knew where it was aimed the second it started to come towards her.

Yet, it never made a connection.

“What the fuck?” the werewolf gripping her hair exclaimed, and suddenly she was dropped to the floor once more.

The commotion that ensued was disorienting to Winter's senses, and all she could do at first was curl up into the fetal position and pray that soon this would all be over.

“Get away from her!”

The voice sounded so familiar, so angry, so powerful. And it made Winter lift her head, astonished to see the crowd of other werewolves filing into the shop.

Jack, Will, Kane, Hanson, Zander,she thought, her heart racing as several more she didn't recognize filed in.

Her heart skipped a beat as she thought,where is Eddie?

But then, just as the Nightstar werewolves began to see her attackers off, Winter felt a hand on her shoulder.

The grip wasn't hard or possessive. In fact, it was feather-light as a voice whispered in her ear, “It's alright. You're safe now.”

Winter rolled half onto her back to look up at the werewolf crouched over her.

“Eddie,” she whispered, her voice strange even to her own ears. Her throat was hoarse, and she felt as if she had swallowed a mouthful of the broken glass that was scattered across the shop floor.

When she said his name, a half-smile lit at the corner of his well-angled lips.

“Fancy meeting you again,” he said, his tone amused, yet there was something else in it too, something deeper. Was it concern?

“You're hurt,” Eddie said, plucking a handkerchief from the pocket of his jacket. “Here, let me.”

Before she could say or do anything, he pressed the white square of material against her nose, reminding her of the way it had felt like it burst when it connected with the floor.

Fuck,she cursed silently, all too able to imagine how messed up she must look right now. But why did she really care about that?

The cacophony of noise that filled the shop seemed to grow quiet, and one glance at the door told her she was right. She was safe now. Jack's men were well on their way to chasing off the wolves who had attacked her.

“Zander, take Will, Hanson and some of the others to see them out of town,” Jack ordered, gesturing towards the door where the three men had raced off with their tails between their legs.

“Hey, don't worry about them,” Eddie said softly, hooking his fingers beneath her chin. “Look at me. We need to stop this bleeding.”

“D…don't worry about me,” she stammered, taking hold of the handkerchief from him. “I'll be fine.”

But when her gaze connected with his again, Winter sucked in a breath. Her heart hammered so hard in her chest it felt like a trapped bird in her ribcage.

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