Peyton's Ride (Riding With The Hunt, #1) (6 page)

His ejection from the horde had been confirmed by Daegus, and now it appeared his acceptance back to the fold was engineered by the same.

He accepted the gifts without a word. The black shadows around his dark haired friend pulsated and glowed when he stepped into the pants and Daegus grinned, turned his left hand over, and presented his palm. No one else could see the two words inscribed there.

Peyton Coghlan.

The reassurance did nothing to settle Ian. In the garage when he’d first seen his destiny inscribed on Daegus’s palm, he hadn’t even had time to hope or process the idea that he’d be mated. Coming to Travers calmed the rut to the point that although he took women out for dates all the time, he hadn’t felt the drive for sex in two years. He wanted the fulfillment of making love with his mate, not meaningless sex with human women.

If he examined his motives closely, he’d been going out on dates because he was lonely and the humans he’d befriended expected him to.

“It will be good to have you back, brother.” Connor’s red hair covered most of his face, and he kept his gaze focused on his lap. The last time they’d seen each other, the madness of the rut drove Ian to attack the younger man in a fit of dominance fueled rage.

“Yes.” He tugged on socks and stepped into the boots. “Connor, I regret what happened between us.”

Connor tipped his head to the side and smirked. “As do I. But you have always been a rather surly phooka. My ma told me I should find friends less inclined to stomp on me, but I never did listen to her all that well.”

The joke helped ease the tension evident in the room, and the other men relaxed. He shrugged into the T-shirt and fished under the counter for an elastic to secure his hair back. The remains of the torsca who’d attacked Peyton formed a pulverized, gory mass in the center of the room. Blood spattered the walls and left long rivulets on the floor.

“I need to get that mess cleaned up before Peyton sees it. A simple glamour won’t work. She saw through ours before.” Shit, she’d be out any second, confronted with a wall of Fae hungry to see if she was their mate, and with a horror movie set as the backdrop. He hoped with everything in him that Daegus didn’t lie, and she was meant to be his, but he wasn’t banking on it.

“No worries.” Irial whistled, and a pack of wolf hounds streamed in through the wall. Their black and grey wiry coats formed a tidal wave of motion. Seconds later, the remains were gone. Irial sucked in a deep breath, and the blood disappeared.

He nodded his thanks and studied each of the men. Life-long friends, the whole lot of ‘em.

If a single one of them touched Peyton, he’d rip their arms off.

He knew when she came into view without turning around. All seven men in front of him straightened their posture. Marcan tugged at the neckline of his shirt. If he spun to see her, it would kill him even more to lose her. But hope filled his heart that she’d be his. Would Daegus lie to him? What if she was meant for one of his brothers as well? He didn’t share, but he knew of other relationships that functioned that way.

“Ian, you’re growling,” Connor whispered to him. “She’s waiting for you to acknowledge her. Stop the growling shite and turn around you dumb
eejit
.”

The pale blue fabric clung to her like a sheath made of spider webs. Each curve and dip accentuated by the twinkle of reflected light from the gemstones in the fabric. Her hair flowed over her shoulders, and the ends brushed the upper mounds of her breasts. A large white flower had been tucked into her hair above her right ear.

She hesitated a few feet away with the skirt clutched in both hands. Lonan whistled under his breath, and she blushed. A low toned rumble erupted from his chest, and he used slow, measured strides to approach her.

A lump closed his throat, and he stared at her. His hands shook, but he took her right hand and kissed her knuckles. The liquid golden brown of her irises gave off a faint light.

“I’ve never seen a woman more beautiful than you.”

She toyed with the zipper on his jacket. “You don’t look so bad yourself. You going somewhere?”

“With the Hunt.”

A crestfallen expression came over her, and he gathered her close to his chest. He rested his palms in the small of her back and sucked in a deep breath. The flower in her hair added to her unique fragrance; it tantalized and enchanted him.

“What’s wrong?”

When she tucked her chin down and didn’t reply, he chased after her and tried to meet her eye.

Marcan, the least vocal of all his brothers shouted from his perch on the last bar stool closest to the wall. “She thinks you’re leaving without her, you damned bumbler.”

The resounding clatter of tools hitting the floor reverberated through the show room.

He cursed and tilted her head back with one finger under her chin. “I would never leave you Peyton. I will be with you no matter what. However you want me.”

A smile played with her lips despite the tears in her eyes. “You really shouldn’t swear at the pixies. They gave me this flower you know. Helped me clean the blood off.” A deep breath lifted her breasts against him, and she sighed. “Why do I feel like you’re trying to say goodbye to me?”

“I don’t want to. Not at all.” The hope she was really his, planted and grown in the words etched in Daegus’s skin continued to flicker inside him. “But I might not get a choice.”

“What he means is that the Hunt survives because the bloodlines and clans are preserved. If your clan is that of—”

“Bullshit.” Her gaze never left his as she addressed Manannan and pride surged in his veins. “Insular, closed societies die out. It’s why the legends of changelings and kidnapped humans arose. You stole humans or took them in to introduce new blood. You try and dictate to me who I’ll marry, and I’ll run. I’m not going anywhere unless it’s with Ian.”

A dark, melodious laugh ripe with the possibility for mayhem and uncontrolled merriment rang out. Daegus. The magic within him responded, stretched out and overflowed his aura with sensual purpose.

Peyton writhed her hips against his and threw her head back. She moistened her full lips and released a throaty sigh.

“Oh, I’d say she’s a member of the Hunt already. Manannan’s rituals be damned,” Irial chuckled.

Ian glared at his brother and snarled, a desperate, primal need to protect his territory driving him. The zipper on his pants cut into his engorged dick, and he shifted his legs to relieve the ache without success.

Her attention fixated on Daegus and the horn. She padded forward, her entire being aglow with inner power. Manannan folded his arms, and a muscle ticked in his jaw. The Lord of the Wild Hunt didn’t like being circumvented. Despite his disgruntled state, there was nothing Manannan could do to stop the proceedings. He led the Hunt, but not it’s magic. The magic had a will and life of its own.

It appeared the magic had taken note of Peyton and recognized her as something it wanted. Or someone who had been left behind.

He puzzled over who her father might be for a moment. A fertility deity perhaps, given her gorgeous, generous curves.

She reached Daegus and accepted the horn with both hands. “I’ve felt out of place my whole life. Like a stranger looking through windows.”

Daegus smiled down at her, blue and purple will ‘o the wisps blinking like tiny stars around him. “Drink, and be welcome. Drink, and join the ranks of the Wild Hunt. Drink, and you will never lack for loving family again. Drink, Peyton Reynolds, and find your mate.”

At the final pronouncement, a feeling like the world held its breath descended. She pivoted and met his eyes as though seeking reassurance. The bashful, almost shy woman who’d waited for him to finish the check on her motorcycle returned.

She lifted the horn to her lips, the liquid inside trembled and sloshed. “If I do this, I ride with the Fae.”

“Aye.”

Each man in the room held their breath. She lifted the cup, her eyes on him, and sipped carefully twice. Then she tipped the horn up and gulped the drink. Blazing light seared from her body until it hurt to look at her. She lowered the horn, a dazed and wondrous expression on her face. Each man in the room straightened their posture, and he fought to control his magic.

He wanted to kill them all, throw her over his shoulder, and fuck her until he couldn’t see. Until she screamed his name and begged him to stop. And then begged him for more.

Manannan spread his arms wide. “Peyton Reynolds, welcome to the Wild Hunt.”

His friends crowded around her in a tight circle, and he couldn’t control the rut any more. The magic smashed through his shields and shredded them to slivers. He shifted to his phooka form, and reared on powerful hind legs, pawing the air.

The idiots near her, near his woman, scattered, laughing. She leveled a stern look in his direction and shook her head. His hooves gouged the floor, and he whinnied.

“Ian...”

He closed the distance between them, nuzzled her belly, and dropped to his front knees.

“Ride a phooka? That’s dangerous from what I hear.” A teasing lilt colored her voice.

He blew a deep breath from his nostrils and bobbed his head.

“Alright. Calm down.” She clambered up his shoulder, muttering beneath her breath about the strangeness of her evening. The firm muscles of her thighs settled around him, and she grabbed a handful of his mane. “I can’t believe I’m doing this. I’m going to fall off and bash my head in. Been years since I’ve been on a horse.”

“You will not fall. As long as Ian wishes it, you
cannot
fall.” Connor slapped his flank. “It’s good to have ye back, old friend.”

He snapped his teeth at the redhead and danced away. Connor was too close to her.

Warmth from her bottom and legs seeped into him through his coat, and she relaxed her weight, settled more comfortably on his back. The chime of tiny bells floated through the air, and every man raised their head, irises lighting up with their magic as it responded to the call of the Wild Hunt.

Finally. He took two slow steps, grappled with the magic of the Hunt, let it seize them both, and leapt through the side of the building with his friends and Manannan Mac Lir on his heels.

U
ltimate freedom. The night wind tore her hair from her face, the roar of motorcycles vibrated through her ears, her whole body alive with energy. Magic. If she glanced down, she saw a gleaming black and chrome machine between her legs. But with a small push, the motorcycle disappeared, and instead she saw the muscular withers of an enormous horse whose coal black mane whipped around her fists in a silken caress. His gait was so smooth, she never jostled.

Checking to her left and right, they were surrounded by his friends. Each one of them disguised by the glamour the Hunt settled over them all.

Worries over the dealership, Howie’s death, and her own disappearance nagged at the back of her head, but she couldn’t ask Ian because he was...well... a horse at the moment. He understood her fine. But she didn’t speak phooka-horse. Horse-phooka? Were there dialects? Maybe he spoke plain old horse. Although that didn’t make it any easier for her to speak with him, now did it.

Daegus had said that she had to drink and claim a mate...that sounded awful permanent. Did she want permanent? What was she
doing
?

Holy crap. This was all so freakin’ nuts. She’d wanted a place to belong, and knowing the Fae were real, that she was Fae, that she did fit in somewhere had been a revelation she’d been waiting for in the back of her head her whole life. But did she want to claim a mate? She’d done marriage once before, and that hadn’t gone well at all. Boring sex, angry, unsatisfied husband who ditched her for a younger, more exciting model, and finally divorce. Then she’d spent years caring for her mother. Her whole existence had revolved around other people’s wants and needs. When did she get a chance to just do what she wanted to do?

But she’d drunk from the cup. She’d heard what Daegus said before she drank from it. Maybe that meant she wanted a mate after all. Why else would she do that? She could have refused to join the Hunt. The change from human had already started. None of them forced her to do it. Even when Ian’s friends circled her, they’d only looked at her. No one had tried to touch her. Even though they were enormous and intimidating, they’d all smiled at her and seemed to be more interested in goading Ian.

Oh Ian...naked Ian was something to behold. Never in her life had she seen anything like him. And he’d been enraged, ready to rip his friends to shreds. She’d walked to him willingly, clambered up on his back and was happy to be there.

She’d walked straight to him, not one doubt in her mind. The doubts only came now, when she started thinking about everything. Was she over thinking?

That kiss...the way he held her...promised to never leave her...and Daegus said she chose her mate.

Was it really all up to her? Maybe she should follow what her intuition told her. Maybe that’s what freedom would be for her. No more schedules and calendars filled out six months in advance. No time tables or alarms. No real responsibilities. Just her. And her phooka.

Maybe she’d gotten her time machine after all. If she wished for a sonic screwdriver, what would she get? Oooohhhh...

The night sky changed, more stars becoming visible, and she frowned. The constellations looked different, the Milky Way was gone, and an extra moon hung low on the horizon. What the fuck?

The entire group veered to the left off the road into a field, and she started. Fires appeared scattered among large tents and twinkling lanterns hung on lines strung between poles. The glamour around their group melted away, and she stared in wonder. Ian cut away and stopped next to an isolated tent at the edge of the encampment. Runes glittered on the surface of the tent in silver, gold, purple, and green.

She’d never seen them before, but she knew what the symbols were for. Unity, fertility, happiness, patience...she choked back a laugh when her gaze landed on one near the flap that appeared to have been inscribed in a different hand than the others.