Mischief's Mate (The Immortal Mates Book 1) (25 page)

Bragi pushed Savannah behind him. He was between her and Tomas and she could only look at the healer over Bragi’s shoulder. Savannah watched as the two men stared each other down. Both trying to prove that neither was a coward. That somehow they were both the bigger man. She needed to defuse the situation or else Emma could get hurt in the crossfire.

He was so caught up in this showdown that he wasn’t paying attention to her. Making it easy for her to wriggle out of his grip. Moving around him, Savannah stepped between the two angry immortals. When their eyes met her’s they must have realized just how pissed off she was. Because the anger in their eyes was instantly replaced with worry.

“I am also not your possession. If I offered to get Tomas something to eat, then I can assure you I don’t mind getting it.”

The muscle in Bragi’s jaw began to twitch, a clear indication that he was pissed off as well. She knew he was exerting all his self-control in that moment. His hand twitched as if he wanted to put her behind him again and Savannah stood ready.

Tomas stepped forward his hands outstretched in a sign of surrender, “It is alright Lady Savannah. Prince Bragi is under the control of his inner beast and it is best if you obey him.”

Obey him? Had all immortal men gone mad? There was no way she intended on obeying him like some love-sick lap dog. As if he could whistle and she would come running. Pavlov could take his dogs and shove them.

Did they all think that they could claim they were your Fatum Anima and do as they pleased? She knew she didn’t belong to Bragi. If she was his mate he could never have been with anyone else.

“Inner beast my ass.” Tomas looked shocked at her outburst. “Oh, I guess you haven’t heard about Bragi’s itch? Funny being a healer I thought you would be able to help him with that.”

She turned then to face Bragi, “Or was that bimbo in the hallway a healer as well?”

He grabbed for her and she evaded him like a running back with ten yards to go. “Come here and behave like a good mate.” Bragi pointed to the spot in front of him.

Hell no, he didn’t think she would come to heel? She had a mind of her own and there was no way she was going to act like his mate. Not even if her life depended on it.

“I have my own mind. The only person I obey…” Savannah put air quotes on the word, “is myself.”

Bragi moved forward, quickly like a striking cobra and pulled her into him. Savannah noticed from her new vantage point just how furious he was. Perhaps she should have chosen her words more carefully.

“I was lead to believe you are his Fatum Anima…”

“You have said enough, healer. I can handle my woman without your assistance.”

Savannah surprised them both when she stomped down on the instep of Bragi’s foot. With a muttered curse he let her go. She straightened her shirt and tossed back her hair a triumphant smile painting her lips.

“If you ever touch me again I’ll have your balls for Christmas ornaments. So back off. I am not your woman.”

Without a backwards glance she stormed out of the room. Unaware of the fact that she left two bitter rivals behind her. And there was no one to run interference.

After the warmth of her trek back to camp the coolness of her tent was welcoming. Chantelle’s eyes darted all around. It had appeared small from the outside, but was in fact bigger than the downstairs of her house on the inside; she assumed it was magic that made it that way.

In the far corner there was a dressing screen that hid a marble bathtub. A sigh of relief escaped her lips when she realized she wouldn’t need to bathe in a stream. Chantelle’s relief was short lived when she noticed Loki’s hand and a half claymore in the corner. Arabella did not expect her to share her bed with him. Did she? Even if she did she was going to set her straight.

But the thought of sharing her bed with him cooled her fire. Moments ago in the woods she had been ready to bend to his every whim. She had wanted nothing more than to confess her love for him. Yet he had stopped her.

A horrible realization hit Chantelle then; maybe Loki didn’t really love her. Maybe she was nothing more than a placeholder. Someone to pass the time with until his true mate came along. There it was again. That insidious voice that whispered to her, taunting her. Telling her she wasn’t loved; a fear her parents had instilled in her.

She knew that it was an irrational fear, yet it was still there. Because what if after all this time he still wanted Signe? It was not unheard of; men pining over the woman who tossed them away. She had college friends who claimed to have dated damaged guys. It always ended in heartache.

At the mere thought of not meaning anything to Loki, Chantelle felt a jealous fury build in her chest. She would not be second best to a conniving immortal who didn’t love him. Signe wasn’t fit to care for a cactus, let alone Chantelle’s mate.

No, he needed someone who could ease the burden put upon him. Chantelle saw the stark loneliness Loki tried to hide from everyone around him. But he couldn’t hide it from her, she knew that look all too well. She had seen it in the mirror enough times throughout her life, to know it anywhere.

Yet, the painful ache in her heart told her she couldn’t chance loving Loki. Not if there was even the tiniest possibility that he still loved and wanted Signe. There was no way Chantelle was going to get upstaged for his love by some psycho chick that didn’t give a damn about him.

She was getting ready to march back out into the forest and find him. She wanted to set him straight on their sleeping arrangements. Maybe even lay into him for using her the way she thought he was. For although she loved him, she wasn’t sharing her bed with him; at least not until she was sure of his love for her. All her young life she had worked for her parents love and yet they didn’t give it to her. Chantelle could not have another person she loved break her heart.

She was ready to storm out of the tent her anger fueling her, but stopped dead in her tracks. There framed in the entrance to the tent stood Loki, the late day sun casting his shadow before him. A breath caught in her throat at the sight.

Loki moved into the tent letting the flap close behind him. “Is the room to your liking?”

Chantelle wanted to tell him that yes everything was beautiful, but she wasn’t about to let go of her anger toward him. If she did there was no telling what she would be willing to forgive. He had hurt her moments ago with his careless words. She could not ever forget again that he felt compelled to want her because he was told she was his Fatum Anima. That didn’t necessarily mean that Loki loved her and she would be a fool if she thought it did.

“There are a few things I would change.” Chantelle shrugged her slender shoulders.

An expectant look slid across his face. He hoped whatever she needed changed was within his power to do so. As long as it would please her, he would happily grant her heart’s desire. Chantelle was his mate and he would do anything to make her happy. All she needed to do was ask. He wanted nothing more than to make up for their misunderstanding in the forest.

“Name it and it will be done.” Loki stepped closer to Chantelle, willing her to see his need to please her.

“The tent.” Chantelle waved her arm to indicate the tent around them.

“Is the color not to your liking?” She shook her head. “Is it not big enough?”

Shaking her head Chantelle pulled one of the rucksacks off the floor. Loki watched her every move, trying to judge what she was doing. Her hands fluttered like the wings of a bird as she began to fold her clothing.

He stood there motionless, watching yet another woman walk out of his life. Loki would be damned if he allowed her to just walk away; not when they had been made for each other. There was no one out there that would fit either of them better.

“What are you doing?”

Loki stood with his arms folded across his broad chest as he waited for her answer. An answer that he knew she wouldn’t give. Not with the mood she was in. The mood he knew, his mindless words had put her in.

He only had two avenues open to him. Loki could let Chantelle move about the room and work off her agitation. Or he could confront her; force her to tell him what had her so upset. Although he had a sinking suspicion he knew exactly what had set her off. Loki had wondered if she was still angry about earlier. He hadn’t meant to upset her, he only wanted her to understand that if she gave herself to him there was no going back.

Loki had no experience with wooing women. Ever since his disgrace with Signe, he had sworn off love. It was a liability, making you weak and Chantelle could make him weaker than a sword strike to his heart.

The longer she refused to answer him, the angrier he became. As he watched Chantelle fold the last piece of clothing his resolve crumbled. Enough was enough.

Loki walked up to Chantelle and turned her toward him, “Answer me.”

She looked up at him, her big brown eyes flashed angrily. She wanted to yell at him, to tell him to stop pretending to give a damn about her. If she didn’t want to answer him she didn’t have to. Loki had no right to demand anything from her. He had no claim on her. The only thing keeping her here was a promise she made. A promise so he would save Emma.

Looking at him now she felt torn. Every inch of her heart told her to forgive him anything. Even if it meant forgiving him for assuming they would share the same bed. Yet the part of her that was stubborn and headstrong wanted to turn from him. To tell him to go jump in a lake. That no matter what he did to save her sister; she wasn’t giving herself to him. Chantelle realized that the least she could do was answer him.

“I am going to find another place to sleep.” She stood before him defiantly; just daring him to stop her.

“And just where are you going to sleep? Out by the fire.” Loki swept his hand toward the tent flap. “We have but three tents. Arabella is sleeping in the truck.”

“I will see if Thor or Hoder have an extra cot in their tents.”

As soon as the words left her lips Chantelle saw his eyes darken. He grew still as if he were trying to get a grip on his emotions. She could feel the jealousy swirling around him. He thought she was his and there was no way he was going to let her sleep in another man’s tent. Chantelle knew he would chain her to his side if she persisted.

Faster than a lightning striking from Mjolnir, Loki took the rucksack from her. He tossed it across the tent and reached for her but she evaded him.

“My wife will not sleep in another man’s tent.”

At his words the room about her blurred for a moment. How could she not have realized Loki would trick her? Maybe, trick, is the wrong word; it implies that they were friends and being playful. Deceit was more the word she was looking for in this instance. He had played her like a favored instrument and she had let him. She was stupid and blinded by the fact that he was willing to help Emma.

“I am not you wife.” She all but spit the words at him.

Chantelle balled her fists trying to control her temper. If she began to yell and scream, she would only lose this battle. He could manipulate the situation to his will if she lost focus.

“Really? You live under my roof. You eat my food. My healer is tending to your sister. And you share my chambers.” Chantelle watched wide eyed as he ticked the points off his long fingers. “I would say, all that makes you my wife. Like it or not.”

Rage filled her; a rage so hot it burned away all her reason and forgiveness. All Chantelle knew was that his words made it clear that she had no choice in any of this. She never had. Her free will was just an illusion spun by the best.

“I thought we were to be friends?” She stood tall, hands on her hips waiting for his answer.

Loki shook his head, “We are. But you cannot deny the mating pull for long. You could not fight it only moments ago.”

How dare he even suggest that she was easy? If she had been angry before, Chantelle was beyond pissed off now and hell hath no furry like a woman who’s been called easy. Before she knew what she was doing Chantelle slapped Loki across the face. The sound of it ringing in her ears and her hand flew to her mouth in shock. Never in her life had she raised her hand to someone and in nothing more than a moment of blind fury, she had lost control. Chantelle had now gone past the point of no return.

“You lying bastard. How could you?”

Loki stood stock still. He was trying to gage her. Hoping she wouldn’t take another swipe at him. She had a mean slap and he didn’t want to push her.

“I did nothing untoward. Eventually, you and I shall be wed.”

He was so sure of himself. To him there was no doubt in his mind that she would agree to be his.

“I doubt that. So you can stop referring to me as your wife.”

Loki stepped forward, Chantelle stepped back. As if they were dancing he followed her until she was backed into a corner. There was nowhere left for her to go. He was pissed with her for slapping him, but he was angrier with her words. Her words had hurt him more than any slap ever could. With just a few words Chantelle had thrown him for a loop. Loki had never expected to hear his mate say she would not marry him.

Any of the anguish he had felt when Signe had run from him was long since forgotten. Loki had cast her out of his life the moment he had first dreamt of his true mate. Yet no matter how he tried to please Chantelle she pushed him away.

“Too late. You are mine.” Loki brushed his fingertips against her cheek.

Chantelle pushed his hand away from her face. “Never. So get it the hell out of your head.” Venom laced her words.

Loki moved away from her as if she had struck him again. He turned from her and waved his hand about the tent. Perhaps he was trying to show her the luxury she was afforded, but Chantelle doubted it. Knowing the immortal, he was more than likely trying to sidetrack her from her anger.

“We will finish this discussion at home in our chambers. Where others cannot overhear us.”

So that was why his clothes were in her closet. They expected her to share her bed with him. A man she wasn’t even married to. Obviously, the insanity had spread.

“I am not your wife therefore I shall not share my bed with you.”

Loki turned his intense gaze upon her; a calm had seemed to settle over him. “Believe what you like?” He waved his hand dismissively, “But all of the points I made before make you my wife. Ceremony or not.”

He turned then without sparing her a second glance and quickly left the tent. Chantelle let out a sigh and sat on the bed. Her legs shook so bad she could barely stand and she was grateful to sit. Before she laid back for a nap, she wondered how awkward dinner was going to be. Soon sleep claimed her and everything was peaceful once more.