Mischief's Mate (The Immortal Mates Book 1) (2 page)

Present Day, Washington State

“Earth to ‘Tell!” Emma’s voice echoed close to her ear. “I know you’re supposed to relax at a spa. But you’re taking this a little too far.”

Chantelle shook her long curls out of her face as she lifted her head off the massage table. Her dark chocolate eyes met a questioning pair of hazel ones. She saw the worry in her baby sister’s face and had an urge to erase it.

“Just thinking.” But her voice gave her away.

Chantelle was always thinking and it was never just thinking. It seemed that her brain hadn’t shut off since the day she was born. Or maybe it was just since she had taken over the job of being both mother and father to Emma.

Emma and Savannah laughed at Chantelle’s poor cover story. Everyone knew there were only two things that could make her space like this. Either she was replaying her latest dream starring her magic man, or she was worrying over Emma’s health. Whichever it was would ruin the spa trip if she kept it up.

Chantelle had been born an empath. She could absorb emotion or send it out. Her years spent on the revamped Biltmore Estate, now known as Raven’s Heart Academy, had helped her get her gift somewhat under control; though somewhat wasn’t completely and she still had to reign it in at times. So her worry would end up leaking out and affecting those around her.

Savannah laughed, “Yeah, you’re always just thinking.”

The air quotes Savannah put on the word “just” had Chantelle rolling her eyes. Yes, her mind was always working overtime. In the last four years she has had good reason to worry. There was always too many somethings; too many bills, too many long nights at the hospital with Emma, too many too manys.

So biting back her fears, she smiled at them. In a way she had gotten them this spa day so all three of them could run from the demons that haunted them. This day was so her sister could get away from everything. In Chantelle’s opinion there had been too much sadness in Emma’s short sixteen years of life.

In the past nine months Emma had seen the inside of too many hospitals. Chantelle knew it wasn’t her fault that Emma was sick; yet she still felt as if she had failed her in some way. As if by simple will alone she could take away Emma’s suffering.

Though it wasn’t just their lives that were rough; Savannah’s life hadn’t been peaches and cream. She’d been raised by an alcoholic mother. Who more often than not turned a blind eye to whatever her boyfriend of the week did to Savannah. So she was the one that bore the scars of her mother’s poor choices.

“You’re doing it again. Give your brain a rest already.” Emma said passing her hand over the light fuzz growing back on her head.

“Sorry guys. Let’s just enjoy the massage while we can.” With a reassuring smile at her companions Chantelle turned away to hide her worried eyes.

The rhythmic movements of the masseuse and the heady scent of the incense took over her mind. She easily slipped right back into her thoughts. It was almost like following a waking dream. Everything she needn’t worry about she saw in black and white. The things like hospitals and doctors were always in color; bright, vivid, blinding color.

The worry was always there, hiding in the shadows. It waited for her like a spider waits for its prey; quiet and still, for days or weeks. Then when Chantelle least expected it, her fears would pounce. There was no way for her to escape their clutches. She couldn’t understand how Emma expected her to shut everything off at will. Although Chantelle wished she could, it just didn’t work like that.

Eight years ago when that letter came stating that Chantelle had been given a scholarship to a prestigious boarding school; her world was forever changed. Once she arrived at Raven’s Heart Academy she learned the truth of what she was. That she was one of the few women born a Halfling. She was mortal, with an immortal soul, with gifts that made her special and able to be the mate to a centuries old immortal male.

Chantelle learned that after her Emergence her body would freeze to be as it was the day she emerged as an immortal. She found that pretty cool, too forever be twenty-five. But what bothered her about who she was that she didn’t want to be someone’s everything. It was too hard to live up to that standard.

So she had gone to Raven’s Heart Academy and no one, not even her sister could know what she learned while she was away at school. It became a moot point when Emma was accepted into the Academy this past year. Finally. She and Savannah could include Emma in their secret circle.

Then, just when everything was going the way she had dreamed, their parents were killed by a drunk driver and their world was turned upside down. At twenty-one she had become both mother and father; not to mention the rock Emma leaned on. The year following their death had been crazy. She had to take responsibility; putting away all her dreams. There hadn’t been any room for Chantelle to start her degree in folklore like she had dreamed ever since graduating the Academy.

She had wanted to say no, that maybe one of her uncles was better suited for the job. But with one look at her grieving sister, Chantelle pushed her life aside and took up the reins; her mind hadn’t stopped spinning since.

Then on a rain soaked May morning, one month after the funeral, Emma and Chantelle boarded a plane. She said good-bye to her old carefree life; embracing her new life full of responsibilities, without regret.

The move from sunny Texas to cold and rainy Olympia, Washington was nerve wracking for Chantelle. Adjusting to life in a different place hadn’t fazed her sister; Emma was outgoing and upbeat. There wasn’t anything life could throw at her that she couldn’t take in stride.

Chantelle, though was a different story. She never felt at home anywhere, not among family and definitely not among strangers. The only place the brunette could call home was the pages of her mythology books and the Academy; they were the only places that gave her soul that feeling of coming home.

The memories pulled a sigh from her lips and Chantelle found herself wishing she had slept better the night before. The melancholy thoughts seemed to creep in faster when she had less sleep. Not to mention it was harder for her to control her gift when her energy was down.

“Who ate your bowl of sunshine this morning, thundercloud?” When Chantelle didn’t answer Emma continued, “You’re bringing me down.”

Looking over at Emma she realized that her lie hadn’t been convincing. Not one damn bit; her sister had seen through it like a plate glass window. Chantelle really hated to worry Emma with her deep thinking but she couldn’t separate herself from who she was at the core of her being.

“Take it easy on her.” Savannah came to her aide.

“She came here to relax, not worry about when I’m going to die.” The look on Emma’s face dared Chantelle to reprimand her.

“I wasn’t thinking that.”

“Oh, really? Then why are you getting premature wrinkles in your forehead?”

Both Savannah and Chantelle laughed at her attempt to lighten the conversation. It amazed her that Emma could take her illness in stride. Approach it with such a light heart. Perhaps the young thought they were invincible, so they didn’t fear death.

“I was thinking about Bells.” When Emma and Savannah gave her incredulous looks, she amended. “And maybe about the dream therapy tomorrow.”

Chantelle felt her stomach twist as the lie easily slid past her lips. She hated to lie, opting instead for the truth even when it sucked. But when her sister’s face light up she realized it was an unavoidable evil.

“I haven’t heard from her in several days and that just isn’t like Bells.”

She really was worried about Arabella. They were all so close to their Emergence, that time when they would go from mortal to immortal. It was a stressful time on one’s body and mind. A time when they would need each other; yet Bells had been M.I.A. for some time now.

Emma interrupted her thoughts, “So just text her later and see what’s going on. Problem solved. Crisis averted. Now on to your therapy fears.” Emma rubbed her hands together like an evil overlord and Chantelle was barely able to hold back a laugh.

“I just don’t know if I really want to know what my dreams are about.”

She really didn’t. After having the same type dreams for as long as she could remember she wasn’t sure if she even wanted to know why. Wasn’t it curiosity that killed the cat? Chantelle was starting to think it was just better to forget her dreams were anything more than that.

“It’ll probably tell you that it’s time to get out more.” Savannah joked.

Easy enough for Savannah to say, she was confident and outgoing. Maybe a little too ‘girl’s gone wild’ sometimes. Though Chantelle reasoned it was to cover up all the abuse she had taken from the guys her mother brought around. Not to mention in all the time Chantelle had known Savannah she had never once seen her go home with a guy, or even call him after a night out. So yeah, she was willing to bet Savannah’s bravado was all an act to cover her hurt.

At Savannah’s words, Emma’s laugh filled the room; it was one of the things Chantelle loved most about her sister. No matter how bleak her day was if she heard Emma laugh she had no choice but to join in. It was almost like her laughter was a form of healing magic.

“Come on. I’ve seen your drawings of him. Looking like that can’t mean something bad. Besides, now I know why you can’t get any sleep. If he was haunting my dreams I wouldn’t sleep either.”

Emma nudged Savannah and they both broke out in a fit of giggles. Like kids in a school-yard sharing a secret about some boy. About the man Chantelle couldn’t stop thinking about.

Shaking her head she chided them, “Looks aren’t everything.”

Emma just raised an eyebrow and that’s all it took to have Chantelle blushing furiously. There was nothing for it, every time she thought of her dream lover her heart went into overdrive. No matter what either of them said it had nothing to do with his piercing jade eyes or his soft raven black hair. It went far deeper than his looks, of that Chantelle was sure. She felt as if his soul called to hers and that was what frightened her the most. With one look he could make her forget everything that meant something to her. It was as if he was the only thing that could right her world.

Emma touched her shoulder causing Chantelle to jump out of her musings and back into reality. “Don’t worry; you’ve been dreaming of him since you’re five. There is something there and good or bad we’ll face it together.”

Savannah piped in, “Yeah one for all and all for one.” She made a movement with her hand as if she was brandishing a sword.

When Chantelle began to get that far off look, Emma wiggled her eyebrows and continued as if she hadn’t been waiting for an answer. “Besides if the dream means nothing,” She shrugged her shoulders, “well at least you have some eye candy.”

Her sister was right, she needed to know why he haunted her dreams and there was no way around it. Even if it turned out that he was only a manifestation of her darker desires, at least she would know. Finally being able to put the dreams behind her and her fear that it was her immortal mate, out of her mind. Chantelle did not need a mate mucking up her life any more than it already was.

“Maybe. But it still has nothing to do with his looks.”

“Sure keep telling yourself that.” Savannah began to laugh and Emma joined in.

The sound of their laughter filled her heart with joy. Chasing away the feelings of worry Chantelle had earlier. Making it so easy to forget that somewhere out there was a powerful immortal ready and willing to claim her as his mate.

The air filled with the scent of sandalwood and leather, as the edges of her dream began to blur. The next moment she was looking down at her clothes and they had changed. Moments ago her legs were encased in denim and now a long gown graced her form but that wasn’t the only thing that had changed.

The world had morphed and shifted right before her eyes. Chantelle was no longer on a cold rain swept street; her slipper covered feet were now sunk into a plush emerald rug. The room before her was a deep shade of mahogany and the more her eyes adjusted the more detail she was able to pick up.

There was a bookcase that covered two walls and a fire place on the third. It was a massive affair with fieldstone and a carved mantel. In the middle of the room stood a monster of a desk, several books stood open upon it. It seemed as if someone was just sitting there moments ago. Maybe pouring over their arcane texts, or trying to solve the issues of world peace? Chantelle’s dream-self shrugged her shoulders at the thought.

She moved over to them, itching to find out what they hid in their covers. Running a finger over the cream colored parchment, a thrill shot through her. There in the most elegant handwriting she had ever seen, was something she had been searching for since they had taught her about Fatum Anima, at the Academy.

Fatum Anima (Fated Soul): Long ago the Wyrd Sisters gathered and decided that too many immortal males chose to end their dark barren existence. So the Sisters came up with a prophecy. One that claimed they would find their true mates amongst the Halflings.

Until then they would search the world over, trying to bring the other half of their soul’s home. This endless search resulted in a perpetual ache of separation and a longing to regain the completeness by finding one's soul mate.

Behind her she heard the sound of movement. When she turned to look a movement in the shadows caught her attention. She knew exactly who it was even though he was half hidden in shadows. So often had she dreamt of him that Chantelle would know him even if she were blind. He was like a candle flame beckoning her ever closer to his warmth and she like the moth would continue to him, heedless of the danger.

He knew she would come here, even as he watched her wander the streets of her dream world. She hadn’t known where she was headed or what she had been searching for, but the dreams always brought her to him. No matter where he was in his own dreams she was destined to follow, the library, the study or the gardens, it didn’t matter. His chocolate haired beauty always came to him.

She was his. Loki knew it though she would deny him at every turn, refusing to tell him where he could find her or even her name. She fought her desire for him even though they both ached because of it.

“You’ve come.”

He spread his arms out in anticipation of her embrace. Perhaps tonight she would put aside her fear. End the longing evident in both of their hearts.

But her tiny form backed away from him, “Not by choice. Why won’t you leave me alone?”

It was something she always asked him. Something that Loki often asked himself. Why would he haunt her dreams like this? They had never met; not even a chance meeting on the street, two strangers passing each other on the path of life. They had only ever met here, in their dreams.

Her big doe eyes beseeched him. Leave her alone? The concept tasted foreign to him, why would he leave her alone when she had been made for him. Her soul and heart destined to belong to him since the beginning of time.

Of course he would have to overlook the fact that she was half mortal. Loki found himself annoyed with her for stirring this need in him. She was blood born to the frail mortal race. Born his enemy, yet he couldn’t stop himself from wanting her.

Even in this dream state Loki could feel that the Emergence was soon upon her. Soon her blood status wouldn’t be an issue. There would be no more excuses for him to hide behind. He would find her and claim her with no regrets. She was his, like it or not. It was something that neither one of them could fight. The Sisters had chosen them for each other before she was born. Her heart and soul belonged to him; as his belonged to her.

Somehow he had gotten closer to her, now he was standing next to the desk. In the same place Chantelle had been moments ago. One long finger gently stroked the open page she had been reading.

“Do you claim ignorance?” His long fingers stroked the page suggestively.

Ignorance? Chantelle wasn’t sure they were even having the same conversation anymore. All she had asked him was why he wouldn’t leave her alone and then he was all touchy feely with that damned book.

Chantelle put her hands out in front of her as if to ward off a snarling wolf. “I hope you’re not talking about what’s on that page you’re feeling up.”

Loki cocked his head to one side as if he was examining her. It seemed he had never realized she was in the dark. He had assumed the academy had done their job and prepared his mate for him.

In all this time she hadn’t known why he had brought her here night after night. Until a few seconds ago, that is. Now it was frighteningly clear and Chantelle found herself wanting to run. But whether it was away from him or to him, she wasn’t sure.

He nodded, “You belong to me, pet. You always have.”

Belonged to him? Was he crazy, she wasn’t some object to own? She had her own thoughts and life, Chantelle didn’t need some male chauvinist to tell her what to do.

“Hell, no! I belong to no one, least of all you.”

She watched as pain flashed across his jade eyes and for a moment her soul cried out for her to make it right. His pain was so stark that all she longed to do was ease it. Chantelle had to clench her fists to keep from reaching out to him. The moment was fleeting as the sensible side of her brain kicked in. There was no way she could give into him and not have to give up everything she cared about back home. Something about this man screamed that what was his, he held to him with ruthlessness.

She took a step forward and then stopped herself. He must have noticed the movement. Now, she watched him fight to hide a smile of triumph that begged to light his face.

“Perhaps we should play a game then? As we used to when you were younger. Maybe that will jog your memory.” A tight smile tugged at his tempting mouth.

No, no. She could not think about how he tempted her. Or about how the suede riding britches he wore hugged his muscled legs and left nothing to the imagination, or how she wanted only to run her fingers over the soft fabric of his frock coat.

Chantelle shook herself long enough to ask, “A… a game?”

What was he getting at? He had brought her here for a reason that she was yet to figure out and now he was talking about games. Maybe he was just a figment of her imagination, after all what purpose could all this serve if he only wanted to play cat and mouse?

His well-muscled figure circled her like a panther circling prey, looking for the softest place to strike. The predator in him had come out to play and even though Chantelle wouldn’t admit it aloud, she found this side of her dream lover exciting.

“Yes a game. You answer my question and you sleep easy.” When excitement lit her eyes he added, “For now at least.”

Damn him. Chantelle had known that he would not let up that easy. Of course there was a catch. Nothing he had ever told her in her dreams had been given without him taking something in return. That was how she had gotten into this mess in the first place. When she was five she had dreamed of him and he had promised her an understanding that no one else had. So she had let him in; now he wouldn’t go the hell away.

To hell with it, Chantelle would take what she could get and just be happy with it. Her curls bounced as she nodded her assent. The scent of amber and pomegranates filled the air with her movements.

Loki felt his hands twitch with the need to bury themselves in her chocolate waves. He clasped his hands behind him to keep them from moving. Knowing full well that any touching on his part would spook her further; possibly shattering the dream.

“Answer this question then… What is it you can keep after giving it to someone else?”

Loki knew that given time she would come up with the answer. His little mortal was so bright. So unlike the other mortals he despised for so long. She almost had him forgetting his need for vengeance. Until Loki remembered that she denied him just as Signe had; then his anger would flare once more.

A flash of anger crossed her face, but before she could voice her anger the dream was shattered. It caused the entire dream to blur around him; the room cracking around the edges.

Loki sat up straight in the chair before the fire as the chimes of the clock upon the mantle woke him. His torso shimmered in the low light given off by the dying embers. He ran a hand through his night black hair as he tried to clear his mind. Standing he grabbed his robe from the back of his chair; he must have fallen asleep again. For the last twenty years he couldn’t get through an evening of reading without falling into the same odd dreams. Yet tonight it had changed, almost as if Loki had been controlling it.

He knew his words to the girl were true, his soul felt the pull of hers. Yet somehow she had denied him, pulling away. Causing them both pain from the strained mating bond between them. Loki snorted as the idea swept into his mind. If she was truly his and not just a dream he had made up, she wouldn’t have denied him. Those that suffered the pull of their Fatum Anima; because that’s what Loki thought it was he was suffering, they didn’t deny one another. They couldn’t, it would tear them apart to be too long without their other half.

Really, mated couples made him sick. They walked around acting as if love was some precious gift. When Loki knew it for what it really was. It was a poison; one that slowly took you over. First it creeped into your mind, making you act in ways you never would. Then when you least expected it, the one you ‘loved’ would rip your still beating heart out of your chest and laugh in your face.

Rubbing a hand over his sweat slicked chest, Loki thought maybe he had finally gone crazy. Isn’t that what the mortals believed about the gods? Though they weren’t gods at all; just a different species all together. Who could blame mortals for believing such a claim, living as long as they did, insanity was probable.

He moved toward the door and threw a last glance at his desk. His musings of the evening and the texts he had been reading would have to wait for another evening, right now his bed and hopefully a dreamless sleep were calling him.

Deep in the heart of Castle Malas, the eerie glow of candles bounced off the stone walls. They cast shadows around the cold dank room. Signe sat at a large wooden table, a leather spell book open before her.

The spell she was searching for had eluded her for the better part of four hours. There was no way she could go to the mortal shop Frigga ran without a masking spell. There was no way a regular glamour would hold against Frigga’s power. As her ice blue eyes scanned the pages before her, they landed on just what she had been looking for.

Pushing back from the table she achingly rose to her feet. A few of her joints popped in protest and the pain that radiated through her body had her hatred flaring to life. As the fire of the inflammation consumed her, Signe knew she had to move forward with her plan.

Ringing the bell for one of the servants she prepared herself. With a snap of her finger her golden gown morphed into jeans and a light lavender sweater. Her skin crawled from the feeling of synthetic fabric against it.

Signe grew impatient as she waited; her mind spiraling back to that morning a millennium ago. The memory threatened to drag her under, but a knocking at the door pulled her back.

“Come in.”

The lady in waiting entered the room, freezing in her tracks at the sight of Signe. She had only moments to take in the presence before her. Signe was nothing more than a shell of her former self. Where once her immortal countenance was flawless she was now withered and skeletal. Quickly, she cast her eyes to the ground, not wanting to offend her mistress.

“My lady?”

Signe moved to stand in front of the young girl. Placing her hand under her chin she forced the girl to meet her eyes. “Your sacrifice is honorable.”

Pulling back she held the trembling girls gaze and began to chant. The language she used was so old even if the girl had the time she would not have known what was said. The maid’s soft brown eyes grew wide as she felt a wrenching in her soul. All she could do was stand there spellbound by the low cadence of Signe’s voice.