Mischief's Mate (The Immortal Mates Book 1) (8 page)

She nearly jumped out of her skin, as her cell phone chose that moment to ring. The sound of Buttons by The Pussycat Dolls sounded loud in the shop.

“It’s Savannah.”

It wasn’t that she didn’t like Savannah; as a matter of fact they were very close. What Chantelle dreaded was what her friend was calling to ask. She had made every excuse not to go out clubbing with her. Chantelle knew she wasn’t going to take no for an answer this time. But she just wasn’t ready to leave Emma home alone. Ever since her baby sister was diagnosed with cancer, Chantelle hadn’t had a night out and that was just the way she liked it.

“I’ll take it.” Emma took the phone and walked into the back room before Chantelle could protest.

Great. Just great. There was no way Chantelle was getting out of a girl’s night now. Her sister would more than likely agree to whatever Savannah had cooked up. Sometimes Emma was more mischievous then a two year old.

Heaving a sigh Chantelle sat down again in the seat that Emma had vacated. The heavy leather book opened before her, her fingers idly tracing Loki’s image. Her skin tingled every time her fingers brushed over the image, as if there was an electric current running beneath the page. Frigga’s soft laugh pulled her from her thoughts. Chantelle felt her cheeks flush at being caught day dreaming.

“I see even you have a thing for a good villain.”

Frigga’s comment had her hackles rising. Just because he caused a little trouble, history decided to brand him a monster. The one mother’s warned their children about. How was that fair at all?

She quickly closed the book with a resounding snap. “No I don’t. And whoever branded him a villain was a fool.”

Frigga’s ears perked up at the sound of indignation in Chantelle’s voice. Frigga had felt that she was the one for a long time now, but this conversation might just confirm her suspicions. The prophecy said that Loki’s mate will have suffered greatly, so she could understand his pain. Chantelle fit that bill perfectly. She had never fit in as a child, not even at home. Her parents had died when she was twenty, leaving her to care for her sister. Now when she had thought that life was beginning to look up, her sister had been diagnosed with cancer.

None of this was really what made her a perfect fit as Loki’s mate. Anyone could have taken the life Chantelle was handed and become bitter; yet she hadn’t. Hell, Frigga would have even understood. What person wouldn’t say to hell with it all when handed a life like that?

Chantelle, she was different in so many ways. She didn’t run around crying ‘woe is me.’ No she faced life head on. When things were tough she put on a smile so everyone she loved wouldn’t see her tears. All that mattered to her was other’s happiness even if it cost her own.

Frigga leaned forward in her chair anticipation rolling off of her. This would be the perfect time to test Chantelle. If she passed, which Frigga didn’t doubt, then she could move forward with her plan. She fingered the box inside her coat pocket and sent a silent plea to the Sisters that the woman before her was the one.

“You are jesting me child?” But the serious look on the younger woman’s face told her otherwise. “Have you read any of the stories about Loki?”

Had she read any of the stories? Try all of them, as a matter of fact she had them all committed to memory. But she had learned something while she was at the Academy; most of modern myth was falsified. Immortals couldn’t allow the truth of their existence to fall into the wrong hands. So most books on things that go bump in the night, are so far out in left field that even the creatures they were about laughed.

Chantelle sat up straighter in her chair, folding her hands over the cover of the book. The glint in her eyes said she was ready to defend Loki’s honor. What upset her the most was her need to protect him. He was a fictional character for Pete’s sake.

Chantelle wouldn’t have been acting this way if Frigga had accused a real life serial killer of being evil. So why all the angst over someone who wasn’t even real? She didn’t know and that irked her all the more. The nagging little voice in her mind told her, she knew he could be real and out there somewhere looking for her right now.

“Of course I have. I could recite whichever one you like from memory.” Chantelle gestured with her hand for Frigga to choose a story she wanted to hear.

“Tell me child, where in any of these stories has it been said that the God of Mischief and Lies is a hero?”

Chantelle shook her head, Frigga was asking the impossible. Trying to explain how she felt about Loki was like trying to set fire to the rain. It was impossible for her to justify what she felt for a man that might not even exist. She wasn’t saying that she was right and Frigga was wrong? Quite the contrary, as neither one was right. It was just an opinion, neither right nor wrong.

A soft sigh escaped her lips, “There is more to a story the just a hero or a villain. Besides in myths and fables truth is just a rule you can bend to your every whim.”

“Lying is the true mark of a villain.”

Chantelle eyed her, annoyance clouding her judgment, “There are no bad characters, only unhappy ones.”

Frigga leaned forward on her elbows, “Your reasoning intrigues me. Please enlighten me.”

Chantelle wanted to rage at her. To somehow make her see that the world wasn’t just black and white, there were grey areas. That inside the mind of every villain was a misunderstood hero.

“All I can say is this… Loki was the one to always pay for his mischief. And if it wasn’t for his meddling, the Norse gods would have never challenged their way of thinking. The All Father would have let Thor run roughshod over all of Asgard.”

Chantelle took a calming breath, “And what thanks does he get? He’s cast aside as nothing more than Odin’s half-brother. He is the boogeyman mother’s warn their children about.”

Taking another breath Chantelle continued, “Did you know that there is even a rumored text that states Loki was really adopted by Odin as his son?”

“No, I didn’t.” But there was a mischievous smile playing across Frigga’s lips. One that suggested she knew far more than she was letting on.

“Well, there is. So I ask you how can someone who brought about such great change be a villain?”

Frigga applauded her. Chantelle cocked her head to the side and gave her a quizzical look. Maybe she should have searched the store for a camera crew today, because she felt as if she had just been Punk’d.

“Bravo. In all my years I have never heard anyone speak of Loki with such reverence. I myself feel the same way.”

“Oh.” Chantelle felt stupid now.

It was all she could think of saying. She had just gone off on a rant defending a man that may not exist and for what? Obviously nothing since Frigga had felt the same way. Chantelle had just preached to the choir and now she felt foolish. But deep down there was something, some primal urge that was forcing her to plead his case.

Chantelle needed to clear his name. All her life she had felt Loki was wrongly accused of being a villain. The stories had made it all too convenient to accuse him of being evil. Maybe he had done several things in those tales that she didn’t approve of, but immortals lived by a different set of rules. So who was she to judge?

The look on Frigga’s face told her she understood where Chantelle was coming from. She watched as the older woman pulled a box out of her jacket pocket and held it out to her. Slowly she took it from Frigga, not quite sure what to do.

Chantelle gestured a well-manicured hand between them, “What is this about, Frigga?”

A slow smile spread across her face. One that said she bore her no ill will for her outburst.  “Let’s just say we played a game and this is your prize.” She nodded her blonde head toward the box.

Chantelle opened it and her hand flew to her throat in shock. There nestled on green velvet backing sat a gorgeous owl. It was beautifully worked in silver, its large emerald eyes stared back at her in question. But what she found most interesting was the large piece of jade the owl sat on. Her big doe eyes followed Frigga as she made her way around the table. She had taken the necklace and clasped it about her neck.

“Wear it in good health.” Frigga patted the younger woman on her shoulder and walked out of sight, leaving Chantelle alone with her thoughts.

She wanted to tell her she didn’t deserve anything as fancy as this, but it was too late. Besides, there was something about the tiny owl that brought her dreams to the forefront of her memory. Maybe it was the fact that the jade matched her magic man’s eyes. Or maybe it’s because Chantelle could swear she had worn it in one of her dreams.

Whatever it was, the necklace was about her neck and there it would stay. With a swift push she closed the door on the memories of her dreams. Slowly she began to clear the table when Emma came bounding back. Chantelle wondered where she got the energy from and if she would be willing to share, because right now she felt dead to the world.

“Savannah says hi!” She was putting Chantelle’s phone away and when she turned around her hazel eyes were alit with mischief. “Oh, and she’s taking you out Friday night.”

Chantelle wondered if she was ever going to have a quiet life. She wanted to tell her to call Savannah back and tell her she couldn’t go.

“I am not going to run about town bar flying and hoe-bagging while you’re home alone.”

The thought of leaving Emma alone crippled her with fear. Before she could even voice her fears her little sister shook her head, almost as if she knew what Chantelle was thinking.

“Don’t worry, Frigga is going to come and take me to her house while you’re out. We both think you need to relax.”

Chantelle watched in stunned silence as Emma headed in the direction Frigga had gone. Obviously they were all in on this together. Plotting to get her a man. As if she even wanted one.

Every window on the Poplar lined street was ablaze. All the families on the block were home, having dinner and discussing their day with their loved ones. Frigga smiled wistfully as she pulled into her driveway. It was times like this that she envied the mortals around her. As the day ended and she came home to an empty house loneliness would set in. Frigga’s soul called out for her mate and children.

What she wouldn’t give at that moment to be with them in Vahöll? For just one glimpse of their smiling faces she would have given up her immortality. Yet Frigga knew she must see her mission through.

The discussion she had with Chantelle today proved that her sacrifice wasn’t in vain. The way she had jumped to Loki’s defense was all Frigga had needed to know she was the one. Even if she had never seen the girl’s sketches, the Norse Queen would have known.

Frigga pulled her jacket tighter around herself as she ascended the porch steps. There was a change coming, she could feel it on the wind. Something was on its way and she only hoped it was good.

Turning the lights on in her Tudor home she breathed a calming breath. Her duplicity was beginning to weigh on her. Frigga badly wanted to tell Chantelle the truth; she had already told Emma. But she knew telling her, would have meant she was using her gift to directly interfere and that was not allowed. In doing so she could alter destiny. Something that was very dangerous, indeed.

Rounding the corner into the living room her eyes were met by a welcome sight. There in her favorite chair, by a roaring fire sat Loki. Frigga felt her heart leap in joy at the sight of him. She was pleased to see he still looked well after four years of her absence.

Closing the book he was reading he placed it on the coffee table next to him. “Are you happy to see me, mother?”

Shaking her head she moved into the room and took the seat across from him. She wished her son could find it in himself to be less suspicious of people. Not everyone was out to get you. Maybe what happened with Signe had left a permanent scar on his soul? Frigga had noticed this more suspicious version of Loki arrived shortly after the incident. Signe’s selfishness had broken her son in so many ways.

Turning the light on she hoped to read Loki’s mood. As always he appeared as calm as the eye of a storm. His eyes never once betraying his thoughts.

“And why wouldn’t I be?” She patted him on the knee in reassurance; that’s when she noticed his clothing. “Is that what you wore here?”

Loki gave his mother an incredulous look. Here he was coming to bring her home and all she could think to ask about was his attire. Wasn’t she worried about why he was here? Something could be wrong with his father or his brothers, and yet his mother didn’t seem to care. It was as if she had stayed too long among the mortals and had forgotten that she was indeed a queen. That she had responsibilities she needed to tend to.

That’s when the thought of what her true agenda here was hit him. She was here mucking about in things that did not concern her. He neither wanted nor needed his Fatum Anima; especially since she was mortal. Mates made you weak and Loki could ill afford that. Yet here his mother was trying to find the one person who would turn his peaceful world upside down.

“I left in a hurry this morning, besides my attire has no bearing on this conversation. But you’re possible meddling in something you shouldn’t, does.”

A sly smile pulled at her full pink lips. “What on earth could you mean? I run a shop; there is no time for meddling as you call it.”

Loki knew she was playing dumb. That his mother knew exactly what he was talking about. Though she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of being right, she never did.

“Mother, lying does not become you. Neither does mischief. Leave that to the immortal that is in control of it.”

A sigh slipped passed her lips as she rose from the couch. “Come on, I shall prepare you dinner.”

Irritation rippled across his aquiline features at his mother’s lack of concern. Loki shook his dark mane of hair as he stood to follow her. Had his mother just told him she runs a store? The queen of Norse immortals selling wears, no better than a beggar. No, his father had been right in sending him to retrieve her. This madness had gone on far too long.

Loki needed to make her see reason, but how? His mother didn’t do anything she didn’t want to. It made her a strong and formidable queen, but it also made her immovable when she thought she was in the right.

“Mother you need to…”

But his words died on his tongue when he spotted her cooking. Where were the cooks? The maids? For that matter where were her ladies-in waiting?

“What are you doing?” He couldn’t believe his yes. Maybe it was an illusion brought on by his travels through the Bifrost.

Frigga turned with a sweet smile on her face. “I’m cooking dear. Wash up so you can help.”

Loki knew now why his father wanted her home. She obviously had spent too much time amongst these mortals. If she stayed here much longer she wouldn’t remember what it meant to be a queen. Loki caught his mother by her shoulders, turning her to face him. His green eyes searched her deep grey ones looking for an answer, but he came up empty.

“Mother, that’s enough.” He pulled the chicken out of her hands and placed it beside them on the counter. “Father sent you this.” Loki took the heavy parchment envelope from the depths of his deep green traveling cloak.

Frigga waved it aside, “Just set it with the mail, dear. I’ll get to it later.”

The mail? Later? No, she needed to read it now. To know just how miserable her mate was without her. Surely, she would run home if she knew how lost father was. Wasn’t that how mates were supposed to act?

Loki knew his woman would not behave like his mother. He would not allow it. Besides if he was right in believing that the woman in his dreams was his, then she was mortal. He would keep her as his, mold her, teaching her how to be an obedient little pet.

He shook his head. Why couldn’t she see what she had done to his father by being gone for so long? No matter what her mission here on earth was, his father needed her. That should have negated whatever happiness this place held for her. Loki knew if it was him he could never cause the one he loved such pain.

“It’s urgent. Signe is on the move.”

His mother tried to hide the look of shock on her face, but Loki noticed that the mention of Signe had shaken her up. Good, his father needed her and she should be shaken.

“So why has he not come himself?” She patted Loki on the cheek and turned back to the chicken on the counter.

He couldn’t understand why she was being difficult. After all she had to be hurting as much as his father. Mates couldn’t stand to be apart for a long time. Especially after being bound together for so long.

There was no reason for her to be so unreasonable. With a huff and flourish of deep green fabric, Loki sat at the dining table. There was no need for her to make this so difficult. His father wanted her home and Loki had to make sure she complied.

“You know he cannot leave the land unguarded. These are trying times.”

Loki watched her place the chicken casserole into the oven. Frigga sent him a writhing glance.

“When you go home tell my husband that I shall return when my work here is finished.”

Loki folded his arms across his chest in his own show of defiance, “I do not think running a shop is more important then returning to your mate. Aren’t you in the least worried about what Signe has planned?”

Frigga’s grey eyes flashed in agitation; he might have overstepped his bounds. Loki knew his mother didn’t like to be questioned. But there was a hint of worry there too, as if she was hiding something from him.

“I’m sure your father can handle one silly immortal bent on revenge. Besides, he would want my happiness.”

“If you were my mate, I would keep you tethered to my side.” A look of challenge settled over his face.

Loki watched as she fought a smile, “It is a good thing I am not your mate then. Because that would go over about as well as a lead zeppelin. Now set the table, please.”

She had called the conversation to a close with that one statement. Shooting his mother an annoyed look Loki waved his hand over the table. Dishes and glasses appeared out of nowhere, there were even two candles in the center of the table.

She smiled at him and Loki felt his ire rise, “Are there any other parlor tricks you would like to see?”

“No dear, just go get ready for dinner. Your bedroom is the last one on the left upstairs. I have more suitable clothes in the closet for you.”

He muttered something about Odin keeping her on a shorter leash as he made his way to his room. Why had his father sent him on this wild goose chase?

Later, Loki lay on the bed in an upstairs room of his mother’s home. Dinner had not gone well. His mother had refused to listen to reason at every turn. All she did was talk about her store and some mortal chit that worked for her. He couldn’t care less and yet there was something familiar about the way she described the girl.

The moment his mother had said the girl’s name, Loki felt his soul shift. Chantelle, her name was Chantelle. He rolled it around on his tongue as one would a fine wine and he knew it was right. She had been the woman he was looking for.

Taking a deep steadying breath, Loki closed his eyes and began to call up her image. Slowly, the dream world he created began to pull him in. Loki had only moments to wait before he felt her arrival.

“So nice of you to join me.”

Loki smiled a predator’s smile at Chantelle. He watched as she took in exactly where he had brought her this time. Her eyes went wide as she took in the large four-poster bed that dominated the center of his bedroom.

Chantelle backpedaled, “How did I get here?”

Loki moved to circle around her. Inspecting the lacy nightgown his imagination had dressed her in. She was magnificent. Her high full breasts were tipped with dusky nipples. And as her breathing increased so did the rise and fall of those luscious breasts.

He longed to have her soft body beneath his. To burry himself in her and forget why he hated her race. To claim her until his heart no longer ached with the hurt of the past. To make her call out his name in the throes of passion.

“You tell me, for I have no idea Chantelle.”

Her deep chocolate eyes shot up to his face at the use of her name. Her fear was a living breathing entity. Instantly Loki knew her gift; she was an empath.

“That’s not my name. You know damn well why I am here so stop lying.”

It was Loki’s turn to be surprised. He didn’t think she would be so bold as to lie to him. Or to even have the courage to answer him back. Yet here she stood as courageous as any Valkyrie.

Loki closed in on her, his hand brushing up the exposed skin of her arm. He watched with heavy lidded eyes as she shivered from his touch. If the feelings she was throwing off were any indication, his mate liked the feel of him.

“Who is the liar, pet? I could not have called you to me if I didn’t know your name, Chantelle.”

His lips brushed over her ear as he whispered to her. The scent of pomegranates filled his senses. Loki’s fingers strayed to her shoulder brushing away her dark curls.

Chantelle’s head lolled back as his lips brushed over her collar bone. A moan escaped her lips; unbidden. She was falling into his trap. How could she fight him?

Not when his fingers and his lips felt like they were searing a path across her exposed skin. Trailing ever higher up her neck to her lips. Her heart kicked into overdrive as his mouth descended on her own. The moment his lips took her’s the world fell away.

It was like fire and ice. Her treacherous body melted into his and all that kept her standing were his arms around her waist.

The kiss was gentle at first. A feather light brush of lips against lips, causing a soft moan to escape her and that was all the encouragement Loki seemed to need. Brushing his tongue against her lips he demanded entrance and she granted it to him. His tongue delved into the recesses of her mouth; calming her and leaving her breathless.

When he pulled back Chantelle looked into his lust clouded eyes. “Come my pet, let us finish this now.”

Yes, that was what she wanted. Something deep inside Chantelle needed them to complete the claiming ritual. She knew it would make her soul finally feel complete.