I dragged myself out of bed still tasting him on my tongue. My thighs were sticky, my nipples sore, and every heartbeat reminded me that I had let Devon Warner eat me out until I screamed his name—twice—then kicked him out before he could bury himself inside me.
I hated him.
I hated that I still wanted him.
The Omega training field was already buzzing when I got there. Two dozen wolves in sports gear running laps, doing push-ups, throwing punches at pads. Devon's new program. Everyone looked stronger, sharper, happier. It made me want to spit.
I scanned the edge of the field. Gideon stood near the water station, arms crossed, staring at nothing. Perfect.
I slipped between groups, keeping my head low. Gamma Harlan was prowling the far side—Andrea's little lapdog now, I see—and the last thing I needed was him running to tattle that I was talking to the Beta. I waited until Harlan turned, then darted over.
"Gideon," I hissed, grabbing his sleeve.
