Ransom by Callie Rhodes

Chapter Sixteen

I could get used to this.

The thought struck Gretchen as she popped the last tender, delicious bit of roasted catfish into her mouth with a satisfied moan. She took a sip of the cold spring water from the steel bottle Ransom had found among the supplies in the cargo hold of the jeep.

Gretchen thought it might have been the best meal of life. She giggled, remembering a bridal shower she'd recently attended where the tea sandwiches that had looked so perfect stacked on a tiered silver platter ended up tasting like sawdust.

"What's so funny?"

Ransom was relaxing across the fire from her with his back against one of two logs he'd dragged over to serve as seating. He'd declared it safe to let the fire continue to burn after dark because the smoke dissipated by the time it drifted above the valley.

Besides, Ransom had no trouble sensing that there was no one around for miles. Well, besides the animals that called this countryside home.

It was funny how quickly her opinion of the wilderness had changed. Somewhere along the way, the message had cemented in her brain—stay close to Ransom, and nothing bad will happen.

"Nothing," she said. "Just wondering what my friends would think if they could see me now."

"You don't think they'd be impressed?"

Gretchen bit back a laugh. Her clothes were filthy. There was a tear in her blouse, and the hem of her skirt had fallen, exposing the raveling lining. Even Goodwill wouldn't accept these clothes. "Not even close."

At least her trusty shoes were holding up well. And the scratches and bruises from her various tumbles had healed. Not only that, her skin was starting to take on some color. Surprising, given that her pale skin usually burned after any time spent in the sun. She stretched out her hand and admired the lovely shade of golden brown in the flickering firelight.

"Well, then screw 'em," Ransom said. "Here, have the last bite."

Gretchen slid across the log to accept the perfectly cooked morsel, then closed her eyes to enjoy it.

There was another thing her friends would never understand—her newfound sensuality. Before she'd met Ransom, Gretchen prided herself on her practical disposition. She'd focused on the big picture, not dwelling on the details. But over the last few days, she found her savoring the little things—the flavor of freshly caught fish, the beauty of a waterfall, the heady feeling of Ransom's caress.

All the fear she'd felt that first night was gone. More surprisingly, so were her worries about Fulmer. Out here by Ransom's side, her anxiety had vanished like dandelion silk on a breeze.

Not forever—Gretchen was certain of that—but for now, in this magical velvety night in the wilderness she'd never known could be so magnificent. Far away from beta society with is rules and expectations and discrimination, from rising gas prices and rude store clerks and the men's-only clubs popping up all over downtown.

In the absence of distress, she could feel herself becoming more aware of all of the vibrant life around her. Had it always been like this, and she'd just never noticed?

Were there always so many insects buzzing in the grass? Had the wind always riffled the leaves to its own secret tune?

Gretchen tilted her head back to gaze up at the sky. A hundred million twinkling stars studded the heavens, and she couldn't get enough of the sight.

It was amazing how different the night sky looked from even a relatively modest-sized city like Omaha. It didn't take many streetlights and high rises to obscure the wonder of the sky.

But out here, they were free to shine. For the first time, Gretchen could see how the Milky Way had gotten its name—a trail of pinprick lights so dense it looked like it might have been painted by God's own glittering paintbrush.

Gretchen blushed at the notion. She wasn't ordinarily given to such poetic thoughts; years of expository writing had cured her of it. She wasn't one of those journalists with a half-written novel in the drawer—all she wanted to write was the truth.

"Still hungry?" Ransom asked. "Because I can catch a few more fish."

"No, I'm fine."

It wasn't exactly the truth.

Sure, there was nothing tangible Gretchen needed, like more food or water. She even had the opportunity to sleep with a roof over her head tonight—granted, one made of some sort of high-tech fabric—and an inflatable pad Ransom had scoffed at but blown up for her nevertheless.

But she still needed something.

Without even thinking about it, Gretchen scooted to the end of her log, where she was closer to Ransom.

"The smoke will get in your eyes over here," he observed, amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth. "But suit yourself."

Gretchen blushed again. She'd been doing that a lot tonight. She couldn't seem to help it.

She felt like a kid with a first crush, unable to keep her eyes off Ransom, following after him like a puppy as he set up camp and caught dinner. Even when he sent her to gather kindling, she stayed close enough to keep him in her sights, as though she couldn't bear for him to be out of view.

And she kept coming up with reasons to touch him, brushing his fingers as she handed him twigs to pile in the ring of rocks he'd pulled from the river or 'accidentally' bumping into him while she searched the supplies for plates and cutlery. (No luck there.)

Each time, Ransom's grin got a little wider, but he hadn't picked her up and tossed her into the tent yet.

But, dear God, she wanted him to.

Wanted it like she'd never wanted anything in her life. Her hunger for him was quickly growing stronger than the desire for food and water. She craved him.

Gretchen tried to rationalize her desire away, telling herself she was still holding on to some unspent energy since their last encounter had been so rudely interrupted right at the end. But she couldn't make herself actually believe that excuse.

The truth was she wanted Ransom because she wanted him. There didn't have to be a reason. Her yearning for him simply was.

It felt totally natural to be sitting here on the ground staring at him, feeling the lust build up inside her. Given the powerful passion that had erupted between them in the last few days, it was only logical that she'd want more—more of his hands twisting her hair in his hands, more of him forcing her to her knees, more of him teasing her with the head of his cock until she was writhing with need.

"What are you thinking about?" Ransom asked.

Embarrassed, Gretchen looked away. "I thought you'd be able to tell," she said lightly.

"Your emotions, yes. I know that your racing thoughts have calmed down, and so has your anxiety, but I don't know what thoughts caused that."

His response was so honest, so lacking in judgment, that Gretchen decided to tell him the truth. "I don't either, not completely. All I know is that even though I've never been in more danger, I feel more…comfortable with myself right now than I ever have in my life. I don't know. Maybe it's because I finally feel like I'm doing something that matters."

"That's not it," Ransom said immediately. He wasn't arguing, just stating facts.

"Well, the only other thing I can think of—it's just that this is the first day in a very long time that I didn't once ask myself what my mother would do if she were me."

She was prepared for Ransom to tell her that she had to stop living in her mother's shadow, but instead, he said nothing for a moment, gazing into the fire with a distant look. When he finally spoke, his voice was gruff. "I haven't thought about Ryan once, either."

The moment hung in the air between them, the deepest truth Gretchen could imagine, evidence of something changing forever. "Maybe," she said carefully, "we're a good influence on each other."

Ransom lifted his gaze to hers and slowly nodded. "Maybe we are."

"When this is all over," Gretchen said in a rush, her words tumbling faster than her thoughts, "will you go to the Boundarylands? Or will you go back up in the hills and live as a caveman?"

"I haven't thought about it much." Ransom went back to poking at the fire with a stick. "So far, my whole focus has been on getting revenge on Fulmer. It's all I've thought about for months…years. I never really gave much thought to what I'd do after. Hell, I didn't even really expect there to be an after."

Gretchen knew what he meant: revenge had been so much more important than his own life that it left no room for even thinking about it. She wondered if he still felt that way…and cared way too much about the answer.

"Well," she said, with a brightness that bordered on shrill, "whatever you choose to do, you'll be fine."

"How do you know? Do you have fortune-telling skills you've been holding out on me?"

"No. It's only that… you're more than just a survivor, you're…" For someone who made her living with words, Gretchen was having a damn hard time coming up with the right ones. "It's in your soul. You're meant to, um, thrive."

She had been about to say "to shine" but changed her mind, embarrassed. And yet Ransom did shine—even in the moonlight, there was a subtle burnished glow about him, some aura that she couldn't resist.

Ransom let her comment pass. "What about you? What are you going to do after this is all over?"

"I guess it all depends on how much trouble I'm in after the dust settles," she said. "I honestly don't where public opinion will land on this."

Ransom frowned. "Even after you expose what Fulmer was doing?"

"You don't know how far the government will go to keep up the big lie about alphas. I mean, this administration is staking the entire next election cycle on the Boundarylands embargo and omega suppression. People are scared." Gretchen hung her head in shame. "I was scared until I met you. And I should have known better."

Ransom scowled. "So Fulmer's counting on the public to be scared enough to shoot the messenger."

Gretchen's lovely, warm feeling was threatening to disintegrate.

"It doesn't matter," she said fiercely. "I'm not going to stop just because some people won't believe me. The worst that will happen is that I'll lose my job, and my neighbors will make it clear I'm not welcome."

A low rumble started up in Ransom's chest. "What then?"

"Things are better in the big cities. I can always go back to Chicago and lie low for a while, get a temp job until I figure what to do with my life."

"What if public opinion lands in your favor? What if you're a hero?"

"I—I guess I'll just keep going. If the story makes that much of an impact, I can probably get a job with whoever prints it." She gave a wry smile. "Though it'll only be a matter of time before everyone forgets that a woman exposed the scandal, and I'll get kicked back down to entertainment reporting and home and garden."

Ransom frowned. "So you're screwed either way, it sounds like."

"I'm probably overreacting," Gretchen backpedaled. "It wouldn't be any worse than it was before this story broke. And at least I'd get to report real news for a while."

"And you'd settle for that?" Ransom put down the stick he'd been stirring the fire with and faced her. "For watching other people get what you want? What you deserve?"

"That's how life works," Gretchen sighed. Ransom had been imprisoned when he was barely a man. He hadn't had a chance to see that for himself. "I wish it was about what I want, but I have to be realistic. Most times, life is about what's possible, not what's ideal."

Ransom took her hand. "Since it's that bad, have you ever thought of leaving it behind?"

Gretchen inched toward him, sliding her ass along the log. She knew what he was asking. It was a terrible idea, even ridiculous—and yet the idea didn't unsettle as much as it should. Hell, it barely bothered her at all.

"Look, Ransom, can we just—not talk about this anymore? We're having a nice, peaceful night, and I'd like to enjoy it."

He surprised her by letting out a bark of laughter. "'Nice?' 'Peaceful?' That's the kind of evening you think we're having?"

Gretchen's mouth fell open. "What are you talking about?"

Ransom shook his head. "Look how you're sitting."

It took her a minute to understand: somehow, without noticing, her thighs had fallen open and she was sliding down onto her knees, ready to…

"Woman," he purred, a sound so sexy it made Gretchen's breath catch. "You're dripping with slick."

Gretchen glanced down.

Holy shit. He was right. How had she not noticed how wet she was?

The realization only made her gush more, dampening the ground beneath her. This wasn't natural. Not for a beta, anyway.

"Wh-what is happening to me?" she asked in a shaking voice.

Ransom shook his head, but his dark were opaque. "This shouldn't be possible," he rumbled. Reaching between her legs, he ran a fingertip along her opening, making her shudder. He lifted the wet finger to his lips, closing his eyes as he sucked off the proof of her desire. "But it is. I don't know how, but it fucking is."

Gretchen's heart pounded furiously. "What is?"

When Ransom opened his eyes again, they were wild with a kind of feral hunger she'd never seen before. "I think you know."

"Oh God," Gretchen breathed.

He was right. She did know.

If she was being honest, she'd known for a while now. She'd noticed the slivers of her old life falling away, one by one. She'd denied it because it was impossible—Fulmer had damaged Ransom; Gretchen wasn't a carrier of the dormant gene. All of this was true.

And none of it mattered.

For a moment, Gretchen teetered on the edge of horror and lust—and then her body pushed her over the edge.

Thoughts receded from her mind like an outgoing tide. Need overwhelmed logic.

It was almost as if she was watching herself from a distance, staring in disbelief as she climbed onto Ransom’s lap and pulled at his shirt, snarling like a wild animal. She needed his mouth, his hands, his cock, and nothing in the world would matter until she had them.

Her vision swirled as Ransom roared in response, rolling her over and wedging himself between her open thighs. Gretchen felt the earth shaking underneath them, his body silhouetted against the brilliant carpet of stars.

In that last conscious moment, there was no denying the truth.

Gretchen had become an omega, and she was going into heat.