Peyton's Ride (Riding With The Hunt, #1) by Jennifer Van Gunten Page B

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.
    Stamina.
    Not sure if she should slide from his back or not, she craned her neck and tried to check out the rest of the camp. Laughter rose from a circle of men around one fire, music and singing from around another. Only a few children were visible, and less than half the camp’s visible denizens were women.
    She didn’t have long to worry over the questions bubbling up, because Ian changed back to his human form underneath her.
    One moment she sat astride an enormous horse, the next he had her cradled in his arms.
    “Oh!”
    He grinned and laughed. “Gotcha. Welcome Underhill.”
    Stunned, she traced his cheek with her fingertips. He’d always been handsome, so attractive that she’d been caught staring at him more than once. But now, bathed in Fae magic and grinning at her...her heart stopped beating for a moment, and her mouth went dry. “Underhill? Really?”
    ***
    P eyton stared at him, her eyes reflecting the will o’ the wisps and lanterns around them, lips parted.
    “Yes, really. Breathe sweetheart.” Because she was so close, he kissed her, long and slow, like he had nothing else to do for the rest of his life.
    Her arms coiled around his neck, and she became more aggressive, demanding, and he had to give her what she wanted. When the rut almost overtook him, threatening to strip him of the ability to think, he wrenched his mouth away from her.
    “Peyton, we have to talk.”
    The words were a splash of cold water. She put her hands in her lap and averted her eyes. A few swear words leaked out of his mouth, and she smirked at him before smoothing her gown.
    “Maybe you should put me down. I’m not exactly light.”
    A growl vibrated through his throat and arms. “No. I could hold you all night, all day, for weeks if need be.” The ingrained need to protect and claim her drove him to pass through the tent’s open flaps away from curious onlookers’ sight. This was their business, his and Peyton’s, and he’d be damned if he’d share it with others. “I need to talk to you about what it means to be a steed of the Wild Hunt.”
    “Uh, okay...”
    Inside the tent, the runes cast their multi-colored glow through the fabric to light up the mound of soft furs and cushions dominating the far wall. A low trunk rested on the right, its top covered with assorted fruits, meats, and beverages. A small, squat bellied fireplace dominated the left with a basket of wood next to it. His kinsfolk had prepared a beautiful welcome home for him and his mate.
    If she accepted him.
    “Wow...Ian...this is so gorgeous. Can’t you feel all the love in here? Whoever put this all together for you, they love you so much.”
    “They wanted to welcome me home. And to make you feel at ease too.” His heart warmed at the wonder and joy in