Lyla's on the run from her pack's omega. Since he's at the bottom of the totem pole in her pack, this should be simple, right? Tell that to her aching lungs and jiggling thighs. She's never been one to go with the flow. So when her alpha orders her to submit to mating with the omega she's not about to start now. Good thing she runs into (literally) a big hunk of man who can make the scariest of wolves tuck tail and run.

Michael's had enough of weres to last a lifetime. After being caught in the middle of a territory war while in Brazil between the Pumas and Jaguars, he sure as hell doesn't want anything to do with the trouble following Lyla. But apparently no one told that to his cock.

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The minute… No, the very second… Hell, the nanosecond she got away from this guy, Lyla was running straight to Gold's Gym and buying a membership. Maybe even two. More memberships had to mean more weight loss, right? Shit, she hoped so.

Lyla chanced a glance behind her and gasped at what she saw. Carl had almost gone full wolf as he chased her. His arms and face were covered in a mottled mix of grey and brown fur. His mouth had contorted and reshaped into a half-formed muzzle, and his hands … his hands had lengthened and were now tipped with fierce, razor-sharp claws. No way would she survive if he caught her. Damn. As pissed as he was at her for running, he'd slice and dice her instead mating. She picked up the pace, cursing herself for wearing three-inch heels instead of comfortable flats.

As she ran, the fat on her arms wiggled, her ass jiggled, and her thighs rubbed together. She mentally moved Gold's Gym to the very top of her list, above her next waxing appointment.

Now, running for her life from a freak of paranature, she finally understood why her mother used to harp on her about taking care of her human body. "Just because your wolf is fast doesn't mean you won't be caught human one of these days, baby doll," her mom used to say.

Today's the day, Mom.

Lyla skidded around a corner, breaking the heel of her left shoe in the process. Fuck!She stumbled, but caught herself before eating the pavement, and managed to only scrape her knee along the concrete. Now the pain in her side from running was accompanied by the searing, throbbing ache in her knee. So not good.

Her wolf clawed and scratched within, but she'd be damned if she went wolf in this area. Besides, letting the beast free was exactly what the sniveling omega, Carl, wanted.

Lyla kept running. She pushed Carl's behavior from her mind. Mutt or not, her Alpha had no right to enforce his power over her.

So what if she'd reached the ripe old age of thirty without mating. So what if she was a bit pudgy—okay, a lot pudgy. And so what if she worked a near dead-end job with no hopes of advancement, which Mr. Alpha-man felt was beneath a member of his pack, albeit a mutt. Just … So what!

Her breath came in billowing pants now. The pain from the stitch in her side warred and fought with the almost debilitating ache in her knee. And through it all, her wolf howled and paced within her. It, in its infinite wisdom, felt it could take down the lowly Carl. Good thing Lyla knew better.

A growl sounded from behind her, and she didn't dare look back. His shifted hand sliced through the back of her shirt, taking skin and flesh with it, and still she ran, cursing herself with every pounding step.

Why hadn't she demanded to be taken home, Alpha's wrath be damned?

She shoved the thoughts aside. Rehashing her mistakes during a run for her life wouldn't solve anything.

The houses and shops lining the street were dark at this hour. No help would come from within. Not that she expected any. She realized, almost too late, that Carl had driven her to the center of the inner-city wolf territory.

Fuck me!

Wait, that's right, that's what got her into this mess. The fact that she wouldn't…