Mischief's Mate (The Immortal Mates Book 1) (29 page)

The silver Hummer came to a stop in front of Vahöll. Thor and Hoder jumped out as Arabella pulled the key out of the ignition. Once inside their footfalls filled the cavernous halls. It was well before dawn and most of the castle was still asleep.

Thor didn’t care if he woke the dead. It was of the utmost urgency that he concluded this business with his father. Loki and Chantelle were out in the woods with no protection. And no matter how much he teased his younger brother, Thor loved him.

Thor knew the gossip around the Council of Immortals. He knew others knew Loki was of Jotun blood. That he would never be heir to the throne. In a race where birthright was king, people looked down on Loki.

The way his younger brother never fought back angered Thor. Loki had always been too timid. Never willing to lift up his sword; he would rather spar verbally. He had hoped to make Loki tough, with his constant teasing. Make him a warrior; much like himself. And although his brother was brave, he was ever the diplomat. Always preferring brains to brawn.

No, Thor could not leave them out there long. Not without protection. He would only feel at ease when Loki was under his watchful eye once more. Only then could he keep his vow to their mother. Maybe even go chase his own mate after all.

“Your highness.” The two guards stationed outside the king’s bedchambers greeted him.

“Wake my father and tell him we have arrived. We shall meet him in the war room.”

They saluted Thor and went about their orders. He didn’t wait around to see if his father was awake. Instead he met Hoder and Bells outside the war room. Pushing the great ebony doors open, they entered the room. Thor expected it to be just them, but the form by the window shocked him. There, lit by the glow of the moon was Cloths. Her stillness had always been off putting to Thor. But now it caused his hackles to rise.

She turned from the window, “Right on schedule. Perfect.”

“Did you tell father to call us back?” Thor eyed her as if she was the enemy.

Cloths moved toward them. Her movements so smooth, that it looked like she was floating and maybe she was. Thor hadn’t met any immortal that knew everything about the Sisters of Fate. Not even his father could answer his questions about them and that bothered him. A good warrior knew everything there was to know about friend or foe.

He watched as she moved past them toward the door. “It was all in the cards.” And with a nod of her head she left them alone.

“I have a bad feeling about this.” Hoder’s words were barely a whisper.

“She is the mother of all foresight. I would say bad feeling is putting it lightly.” Arabella ran a hand through her purple hair.

Thor knew they were right. Since their father’s raven had come to summon them, he felt suspicious. As if there was a greater force at work behind everything.

“So do I. But what could be the meaning of all this?” Thor began to pace.

What indeed? Maybe Loki had to go this one alone. But that didn’t sit right with Thor. There had to be something else. Something they had all overlooked; an event that had to unfold for destiny to be fulfilled.

Thor was about to fill them in on his theory when the doors opened. In walked their father; trailed by Bragi, Savannah and Tomas. Ares the immortal warlord pulling up the rear.

“Ares.” Arabella’s words caused Thor to suck in a breath.

If they needed to call in the Greek warrior this was worse than they had first thought. He was no better than any other mercenary; fighting with a violence born of heartlessness.

“Hells Bells. When did you join up with this merry band of fools?”

Arabella ran up to the warrior and threw her arms about his neck. When she pulled back she wagged her finger at him, “Be careful who you call fools. I do remember you ignoring a rather important text from me.”

Ares shrugged, “I had things that needed to be attended to. I didn’t need one of your wild goose chases.”

“Bells, what is the meaning of this?” Thor gestured toward Ares as if he was a peasant.

Arabella turned to face him, a ghost of a smile playing at her lips, “In a way we are old friends. Let’s just say that Ares helped me tap into my warrior.”

“You mean he turned you into a heartless slayer of outlaw immortals?” Arabella flinched at his cutting tone.

“I would count my words if I were you, boy.”

Ares stood to his full height. His arms crossed over his cotton covered chest. His stance caused the tattoos he bore to stand out; making him look all the more intimidating.

Odin moved to stand between the two men. “Thor, there is no need to fight. This is no surprise, you knew you were picking up reinforcements.” He gestured to the group gathered.

“Have you gone mad? There is no telling what we face in the coming days. And you assemble a group of misfits for battle.”

Thor felt his blood begin to boil. There was no way this wasn’t a joke. His father had called them all the way home to saddle them with useless warriors.

“There is no use arguing. I have already tried.”

Ares’ words did nothing to ease Thor’s mind. If the warlord was agreeing with him, their odds must really suck. Because rumor had it that there was no battle Ares wouldn’t fight for the right incentive.

“I assure you that the only way to win this battle is to join together.”

Tomas stepped forward, “I beg your forgiveness, highness. But if we are to help save Lady Emma, I believe we should move soon.”

Thor knew the healer was right. Every minute spent arguing was a minute they lost in returning. Enough time had already been wasted on this fool’s errand.

“We will discuss this when I return. Now, whoever is joining us get ready. We leave in ten minutes.”

The group of ragtag soldiers headed to get their things. Thor watched them with a great misgiving. If they survived this battle he was going to take some time for himself. Maybe go in search of his would-be mate. The one that each immortal man had been promised before birth. Yes, that was just what Thor planned to do.

“I’ll get the horses ready.” Thor looked at Arabella as if she had gone crazy, “We can’t take the car for this leg of the journey. Come on Hoder let’s go.”

When they were out of range Thor addressed the All Father. “I will not be returning with the others after battle.”

A look of worry crossed Odin’s battle scarred face, “And why not?”

For a moment he struggled with what to say. Worried that his father might tell him he couldn’t leave to search for his intended. But then he realized that whatever he chose to do his father would back him.

“I feel it is time to go in search of my mate. I feel the beast fighting to consume me. I cannot allow her to roam this world free of my claim. It is no longer safe.”

In truth, Thor had battled his beast from a very young age. It was his aggressive nature that made him more susceptible to the beast all immortal men fought. As the years turned into centuries it grew harder on his soul. Too often he had allowed it free reign while in the heat of battle. His inner beast knew freedom and now craved it. Thor needed his mate; his anchor to the light. Only she could tame the beast.

“You may go on your quest. But first you must come home so your mother knows you are well.”

Thor nodded his agreement. He knew that if he left straight away his mother would be beside herself. She would worry and there was no telling what she would do. Thor couldn’t allow her to worry about him like that.

After he was dismissed he made his way to the garage, uttering a prayer that their destiny would be favorable. Because only God knew what was in store for them when they reached camp.

With a final look around their camp, Chantelle headed into the tent. Stepping through the flap she was stopped in her tracks. All of the furniture was pushed back; the floor covered in pelts. But what had caused her to pause was Loki.

There he stood in the middle of the tent, clad all in black. Black buckskin britches hugged him in all the right places and were tucked into black leather riding boots that clung to his calves. Her eyes moved up his body to rest on the black and silver quilted doublet, which fit him like a second skin. Chantelle looked him in the eye. His were alit with mischief.

“Do I please you, love?”

His velvet words caused a heated blush to paint her cheeks. Of course he pleased her visually. What hot blooded woman wouldn’t be pleased by the sight of him?

“I…um…didn’t know this was a dressy occasion.” She gestured to his attire.

Loki stalked forward. Every step he took closing the space between them. He continued until he was a scant inch away from her. “It isn’t.”

“Then you always go into battle dressed like a sex god off the cover of a bodice ripper?”

She hadn’t noticed that her palm had found its way to his chest. But there it rested against the fabric of his doublet. Right over his heart.

Did he know what the sight of him did to her? He was a walking wet dream. All her life Chantelle had found men who tended to dress more toward the gothic side of fashion, breathtaking.

Loki let out a deep laugh and if it was possible Chantelle’s blush deepened. “A sex god, really? What have your mortal books taught you?”

Chantelle began to pull her hand away, too embarrassed to look him in the eye. But Loki trapped her little hand against his chest with his much larger one. She savored the feel of his heartbeat beneath her palm.

“Oh, I said that out loud didn’t I? If you’ll excuse me I need to go find a hole to crawl into.”

Chantelle chanced a glance at Loki and she saw a smile lighting his eyes. She found herself getting lost in the deep green pools. Seeing him at ease was something she could get used to.

“There is nothing wrong with finding your mate attractive.” He leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “As a matter of fact, I find you irresistible.”

Loki pulled her ear lobe into his mouth, making her gasp. She leaned into him he and ran his tongue over the shell of her ear.

“Thank you. I…uh...guess.” She stammered.

Chantelle wanted to kick herself. Here was her mate giving her a compliment and all she could say was thank you. And stumble over it to boot. No wonder she had terrible luck with men.

Loki released her hand and placed a sword into it. He stepped back; Chantelle immediately mourning the loss of his warmth. But if they were going to train then they needed to end their flirting.

Chantelle almost passed out from the sight of the magnificent weapon. A Celtic Longsword. It was perfect for her. It was three feet in length, adding to her reach. It was perfect for a slashing attack. Its single handed grip had an elegant silver etched backward -curving quillon. So this was to be an up close and personal fight.

“Do not thank me until after we have sparred.”

He pulled a sword out of thin air and once again Chantelle found herself awestruck. The raw power that flowed within Loki amazed her. For the first time since he had come into her life, she felt unworthy of him.

Despair flitted across her mind. She didn’t have time right now for worries. What she needed right now was for him to be firm and make her forget whatever had her worried. Chantelle just hoped he could distract her.

“Pick your sword up and ready yourself.”

The command behind his words brought her fears up short. She knew he was trying to distract her. Her expression must have given her away and she was grateful for his understanding. Chantelle didn’t need to be coddled. She wasn’t a weak person and if he treated her like one it would break her spirit.

Slowly Chantelle brought her sword up. Although it was rather large, it was light in her grip. She had a sneaking suspicion that it was Loki’s magic that made it so. Pivoting on her feet, she swung the blade above her head. There was a metallic sound that sliced the air about her. With a few spins of her wrist Chantelle had the blade obeying her every command. Coming to a standstill she eyed Loki across the tent; her sword still at the ready.

“Is there something you would like to tell me, Chantelle?” Loki gestured to her sword a smirk playing at his lips.

“You can thank Savannah for my comfort with a blade.” She smiled back but wouldn’t elaborate.

“We shall discuss this further after our training.”

He bowed at the waist and waited for Chantelle to give her own bow. Once the formalities were finished he pulled his sword to the ready as well.

“You are to strike to disarm only.”

Chantelle nodded in agreement. With one step to her right and a twirl of her wrist, they began their dance. Slowly they circled each other, each looking for an opening in the other’s form.

Loki shot her a smile causing her focus to falter for a brief moment. That was all he needed; for as quick as lightening he struck. The force of his blow knocked Chantelle’s sword out of her hand.

Before she could blink he had her on her back. A dagger at her throat. Her eyes flashed with fear. In less than five seconds Loki had showed her this was the real deal. Not some game you could restart if you lost. This was life and death.

Stepping off of her, Loki extended his hand to help her up. With a shake of her head Chantelle refused it. She rose to her feet, picking her sword up on the way.

“Again.” Determination shown in her brown eyes.

He flashed a perfect smile, “Stop trying to distract me.”

Loki lunged and with a small heel pivot and an upward stroke Chantelle blocked him, but just barely. And he was not pleased.

“I am flattered that you find me distracting. But this is not a game Chantelle.”

A small growl escaped her, “I know it isn’t, but you don’t have to distract me. That’s all I’m saying.”

He gave her an unyielding look, “There are a lot of things on the battlefield to distract you. You must get used to it.”

This time it was Chantelle who advanced. Just grazing Loki’s sword, as he sidestepped her. She attacked again, driven by her annoyance for her missed shot. Her thrust was sloppy and easily blocked by him.

“Learn to find your inner calm. And for the sake of my sanity stop fighting like a little girl.” He hoped the jab would irk her causing her to see just how sloppy an emotion driven strike was.

“Just for that, I’m going to clean your clock.”

An irritated huff left Chantelle as she charged him. He had achieved the desired effect with his words and yet again he disarmed her.

Chantelle’s anger at his words was coursing through her. For a brief moment Chantelle hadn’t realized she had lost her sword. Turning to face Loki she was even further surprised when he wasn’t there.

His warm breath blew across her ear making her stifle a yelp. But it was his arm around her waist that had Chantelle forgetting what they were doing. Just his body heat had her body begging for more.

“Do not fight through your emotions. Fight despite them.”

She had leaned into him and Loki was remiss to let her go. It took all of his strength to pull away from her. He would have rather been fighting her for dominance in their bed. But she needed to know how to defend herself, or else he would lose her.

“Again.” He circled around to the front of her.

She pulled her sweater off and threw it in a corner. Chantelle smiled as Loki eyed her green cami. She knew she had distracted him and it pleased her that she could.

Picking up her sword again, Chantelle readied herself. With a deep cleansing breath she buried her emotions. Calling up a memory of Emma, she held the image as a drowning man holds a life preserver. That would be her focusing point and may God save her if she lost focus this time.

Several hours later Chantelle sat down hard upon the ground. Small beads of sweat dotted her forehead and her hair hung in damp waves down her back. She was now only dressed in her cami and a light pair of sleep shorts. She had asked to stop halfway through their lesson to get out of her cumbersome jeans. Chantelle surmised that Loki only allowed this because he liked how she looked in the shorts.

Although Loki was a fierce instructor, she had managed to disarm him a few times. He forced her to keep going even when her arms screamed in pain. Telling her their enemies wouldn’t care if she was tired. They would show her no mercy and neither would he. Chantelle knew Loki was right. If Signe or her minions could kill her or any of her companions they would and they wouldn’t hesitate or ask questions.

This was a battle they were going into. Not a playdate. No matter how much she disliked violence, Chantelle was going to have to man up. Signe had struck first and without mercy, it was only fair that she retaliate.

The horses’ hooves beat a heavy staccato against the ground. They had wasted a full day and Thor wasn’t willing to waste another. He would drive their horses as hard as he could, in hopes of reaching Loki and Chantelle by late afternoon.

Ares had pulled his horse even with Thor’s, “You are driving everyone too hard.”

The warlord was right but that wouldn’t make Thor ease up. Since his father’s raven had come calling, everything felt wrong. As if evil had been lying in wait for these exact circumstances. And why had they been told to take a car on the first trip, when they were made to take horses the second time? No, things did not add up. Thor was sure that they were being delayed.

“We cannot afford to slow down. There is no telling what we will find at camp when we return.”

The others began to make pace with them. The marsh they rode through was wide enough to accommodate three riders at a time. The other two following behind.

“Why are we racing the hounds of hell?” Tomas threw a weary look in Thor’s direction.

“Tell me, healer, do you trust that treacherous witch?”

Thor waited for him to answer. They had slowed their horses, not wanting to tire them. They didn’t know if they were only riding to camp, or if they would have to travel further still.

“About as much as a hungry dragon.”

Savannah could not believe they were this worried about their enemy. How were they supposed to defeat Signe and save Emma? It seemed almost impossible if grown warriors were worried about their odds.

Her eyes swept over the four men she rode with. They all looked as if they could hold their own in battle. And she knew damn well Chantelle could fight. As well as Arabella.

She had been using sword training to ease Chantelle’s stress levels for years. Her friend was just as proficient with the sword as these men were. The only thing that worried Savannah was Chantelle’s reluctance to take a life.

“Is Signe that formidable of a fighter?”

Arabella patted her shoulder. “She is no fighter.”

When Savannah gave a sigh of relief Tomas added, “She has trained men to do her fighting for her. And whatever you think of her you must remember she will do anything necessary to rid herself of Princess Chantelle.”

Thor grunted in agreement, “I can assure you, she will not fight fairly.”

“In that case let’s hurry back to them.” Savannah dug her heels into her horse’s side and took off like the wind.