Mischief's Mate (The Immortal Mates Book 1) (9 page)

“Tell me where I can find you. And I shall come to claim what is rightfully mine.”

The command in his voice was like ice water over her skin. One moment she was ready to sell her soul for one more kiss from him. The next she wanted to run as far away as she could. Knowing that if she gave into him, he would find a way to consume her.

Chantelle pulled back from him slowly, not willing to alert him as to her plans. When she was free from his arms she walked closer to his bed. Trying to put enough space between them so she could think straight.

“Has anyone ever told you, you’re a smooth talker?” When he nodded she laughed, “Because they lied.”

A look of confusion melted away the lust from his eyes, “Chantelle, whatever you are thinking of doing I suggest you do not.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. Before he could advance on her she called up the image of her room and in an instant the dream faded and restless sleep took its place. Chantelle continued to sleep on none the wiser for their meeting.

Chantelle was sipping a cup of Earl Grey tea as her eyes took in the world outside her kitchen window. This had been her ritual for the last nine months. It was the only way she could start her day with any peace in her soul. It was her little piece of heaven as she waited for Emma to dress, then they would head over to her tutor‘s house.

Her cell buzzed letting her know she had a text. ‘Do not fight the pull of mischief. XOXO. Hells Bells.’

Chantelle let out a relieved breath. If Arabella was sending her cryptic texts then she was ok. After their last conversation she had been worried about her friend. It seemed everyone was after Arabella the Foreseeing.

Then she reread the text. What did she mean about the pull of mischief? Shouldn’t she have said not to fight the pull of her dreams? Or of her mate? She absently fingered the owl at the base of her throat. There had been too much going on in her life these last few years. Chantelle just longed for some peace and happiness.

Another buzz filled the kitchen. ‘The road to happiness is paved in pain.’

Damnit Bells, what was that supposed to mean, she thought to herself. Hadn’t life given her enough pain? Now, all Chantelle wanted was happiness. As she thought about happiness her mind had begun to wander to the book Frigga had given her. Chantelle had opened it last night to read more about Loki the trickster god and for the two hours she had stared at his image her soul had been filled with happiness.

Last night there had been so many stories about him she hadn’t known where to start. Then when Chantelle had settled on a few stories she found herself cringing at the image of him the book painted. No one, man or immortal in his case could be that bad, no matter how long they lived.

She wondered if the people who made up myths thought beyond the point of their stories. Sure the gods in their tales were immortal and all powerful. Chantelle understood that, but why were most of them always painted as nothing more than childish?

Really, if the gods of any religion were that vindictive why did mortals worship them? Besides, no one being, was wholly good or evil. There was light and dark within us all. Most people were shades of grey, above anything else. Not to mention there was only one God. The gods of old were really just a well-hidden race of immortals.

“’Telle!” Emma came running down the stairs at full tilt.

Chantelle was jerked out of her thoughts at the sound of her sister’s call. She came rushing out of the kitchen, worry painted on her face. Grabbing her, she checked her over for any injuries.

“Are you alright?” She fussed about Emma trying to find where she was hurt.

Emma pushed her hands away from her face, “I’m fine. Now come on.”

Chantelle wanted to scold her for making her worry, but she didn’t have the heart. Emma was excited about something and she wondered what she had up her sleeve.

She tugged Chantelle up the stairs to her room. Coming into her bedroom Chantelle let out a groan at the sight before her. There on her mahogany sleigh bed sat half of her wardrobe.

“I thought something was wrong.” Chantelle pointed at the bed, “This is not a good enough reason to come running down the stairs, yelling like a Minotaur is chasing you.”

Emma just shrugged, not bothering to even look sorry about her outburst. “Well, there’s going to be something wrong if you don’t find something better than that to wear.”

She gestured to the dark blue ankle skirt and top her sister had on. It was evident from the look of disgust on Emma’s face that she wasn’t going to be able to talk her out of this little game of dress up.

She moved over to the first outfit, “Here, try this on.”

Chantelle eyed the clothes as if they were a cobra waiting to strike. She really didn’t want to do this; by this she meant going out tonight. It had been well over a year since Savannah had dragged her to a club.

Batting her eyelashes Emma pushed the clothes into her hands, “Please.”

Taking the articles offered, Chantelle moved behind her dressing screen, “Ok, but not too long because you’ll be late for the tutors.”

A squeal of delight reached her ears and a smile took over Chantelle’s lips. Then she lifted the outfit Emma handed her and her smile faded like the sun before a storm. The bright pink dress was missing something. As Chantelle shimmied into it she realized what it was. The damn thing was missing three inches of fabric to even be decent. Unless she was going for stripper tryouts, there was no way Chantelle was leaving the house in this dress.

Feeling her heart sink, Chantelle shook her head as she came around the screen. Emma clapped as if the Mariners had just won the World Series. Was she kidding? There was no way she was going to leave the house in this dress.

“I am not wearing this, so get it out of your head.”

Although her smile fell she wasn’t deterred, “Try something else. You want to look good in case Mr. Hottie walks out of your dreams and into that club.”

Chantelle just wanted to forget about her dreams. Especially after she had woken up this morning to a nagging sensation at the back of her mind. Something was telling her she had another dream last night, yet try as she might she couldn’t remember it.

Maybe her mind was finally fed up with only having a dream. Lord knows she had lived too long for a glimpse of her magic man that she had begun to resent reality. There was no time for the comfort of dreams now. Chantelle only had room in her life for taking care of her baby sister. Now she was trying everything she could to stop the dreams from coming. Nothing, not even meditation or Dr. Stevens had helped. Chantelle didn’t even want to talk about him anymore.

“I don’t even want to think about him. And if by some miracle he turned up at the club tonight, I would just send him packing.”

Emma gave Chantelle a sad smile, “Maybe, just maybe, if you had a man in your life, you wouldn’t need the one in your dreams.”

She was right and they both knew it, but Chantelle had tried dating. No matter how many guys Savannah or her sister fixed her up with, it never worked.

“I try. You know I do.” She defended herself as she came out tugging on the hem of the next dress; a too short yellow one shoulder number.

“Not hard enough, ‘Telle. And not that one.” She pointed at the dress. “Yellow isn’t a good color on you, you’re too light.”

She was right, not only about her dress but about her social life as well. Chantelle never really tried on those blind dates. There always seemed to be something about them that bothered her. If it wasn’t one being too tall, then it was one who was too short. Some were too blond, while others were too dark. If her date showed up with any eye color but green she would fake a headache halfway through dinner.

The problems didn’t end at their looks. If it had, maybe Chantelle could have carried on with the dates, but most of the guys they set her up with were shallow. They seemed overly worried about how many zeroes were after the one in their bank accounts. Chantelle didn’t give a damn what they did for a living. All that mattered was that they were happy doing it. She didn’t judge them by how much money they had; but by how many loved one’s they would give it up for.

“Stop daydreaming and let me see the next one.”

“This is the last one Emma and I mean it.” She had used her mommy voice and hoped she got her message across.

Chantelle stepped out from behind the dressing screen, Emma gasped. The last dress was stunning; it was jade eyelet with a hem that just kissed the tops of her knees.

“Don’t worry, we have a winner.” The smile that lit her face told Chantelle that her sister had won.

Turning around she inspected herself in the full length mirror and her heart gave a flutter. Why did everything she own lately have an element of green to it? She was like some little lost earth sprite or something. Her chocolate eyes moved over the discarded dresses on her bed. That’s when Chantelle realized none of them were her’s. She would never buy anything so short or loud in color.

“Where did all of these dresses come from?” She fingered some of the scraps of fabric.

Emma shrugged her shoulders, “Savannah. We thought you needed a change of pace.” Emma walked around her inspecting the dress she now wore, “Seems we were wrong.”

Chantelle’s eyes moved from her reflection in the mirror to the clock on her dresser. It was seven thirty; she had to get Emma to the tutor; then get herself to The Nine Realms.

“Come on, let’s get going or you’ll be late.”

The grandfather clock chimed two thirty as Chantelle moved about the store with a feather duster in her hand. As she waited for Emma to come in from her tutor’s, she busied herself lifting each book and dusting it off.

The gentle movement of the duster and the fragrance of the incense settled her nerves. Tonight had been weighing heavily on her mind all day. She didn’t really want to go out to a club. All those guys looking to get you drunk and take you home, or they just groped you outright on the dance floor. God, she hated clubs the way some people hated clowns; the aversion was irrational but still it was there none the less.

Chantelle rolled her eyes at the thought of it all. Whatever happened to chivalry? When a gentleman not only held a door open for you, but made you feel like a lady and not some piece of meat.

“Chantelle, I’m heading out for a little while.” Frigga had one arm in her coat and was shrugging into the other one.

“See you in a little while.” Chantelle called after her.

Frigga took off out the door not even bothering to answer. That was odd. Frigga never rushed about as if she had more important places to be than the store. Chantelle wondered if she was feeling well. She shrugged it off, she was sure if something was wrong Frigga would talk to her about it later.

Chantelle turned back to her work. As she began to dust another shelf the opening strings of “Magic Man” poured out of the radio. She knew Frigga wouldn’t mind if she turned it up so she did just that. After all, Frigga was always telling her to let loose a little and that was just what she was doing. Gently her hips began to sway and the tension melted from her body. All thoughts of the coming evening flew out of her mind. Chantelle had almost forgotten the world around her; until the tinkle of bells met her ears.

Thinking Frigga had forgotten something in her haste, Chantelle spun around a smile lighting her features. The greeting for Frigga died on her tongue as she looked into a pair of evergreen eyes.

She had to grip the counter in front of her to keep herself upright. There before her stood the man from her dreams. She would know his soul piercing eyes anywhere. Chantelle had never seen eyes so green. They drew you in and threatened to pull you under and never let you go.

He stood 6’2” at least and had jet black hair that just brushed his shoulders. There was something about him that made her want to take flight and yet she stood stock still. Afraid that if she moved, her legs would carry her toward him instead of away.

Chantelle’s eyes drank in the sight of him, like the desert does the rain. He wasn’t in his normal attire and she found the contrast jarring. Gone were the suede britches and long frock coats. Her phantom lover stood before her in a grey Led Zeppelin tee that sat snug against his lean muscles and a pair of dark washed skinny rocker jeans clinging to his long lean legs. Chantelle thought he looked out of place; like a black and white movie that’s been colorized. It was still as good as the original, just in a different way.

Then he spoke and her world was shattered, “Good afternoon, miss.”

At the sound of his velvet voice her heart went into overdrive. The way his words slid over her skin reminded her of romantic evenings in front of a roaring fire. As a matter of fact Chantelle could picture this man standing before her starring in those same romantic evenings.

She was so caught up in her musing that it took her a moment to remember her manners. “Good… good afternoon. May I help you find something?”

Chantelle tried to smile brightly, but a blush began to paint her cheeks. Why was he affecting her this way? It couldn’t be because he looked like her dream guy; that was just coincidence.

He had her tongue tied and that wasn’t normal. Anyone who knew Chantelle would tell you she could fake confidence in any situation and here she was stuttering. Maybe it was the fact that his eyes seemed to be devouring her. As if he was trying to commit her to memory.

It was her; the woman he had been dreaming about. Chantelle. Here in his mother’s shop and he doubted it was a coincidence. Loki’s eyes took in the deep chocolate of her doe like ones. Slowly his eyes followed the curves of her hips, taking in her shapely legs. He didn’t miss the necklace she wore. So this was his destined mate? An appreciative look spread across his face.

Chantelle may be only a mortal now, but not for long. The energy of the Emergence clung to her like a second skin. Loki was glad for it, because there was no way he would claim a mortal for his mate. No matter how beautiful she was; a pet yes, mate never.

“It seems I have already found what I am searching for.”

He closed the space between them. The air seemed to leave the room the instant he was in front of her. Then his hand brushed hers and the same electric current from his dreams charged through him.

A sparkle of mischief was in his eyes as he noticed her blush. He was happy his small advance had caused her to become shy. That meant she wasn’t experienced in the realm of men and for that he was pleased. Loki decided to ease the tension in the room; he didn’t want to make his mate anxious. His eyes jumped to the framed drawing on the counter, Chantelle’s eyes following.

Chantelle’s cheeks grew warmer if that was even possible. She didn’t know what to make of the implication behind his words. Before her stood a sex god, Savannah’s choice of words for good looking guys, not her’s, and he was giving her the eye.

She followed his eyes toward the counter and noticed his searching glance. She felt foolish. Of course he had meant something in the shop. Why else would he have come to The Nine Realms? It sure the hell wasn’t to find her. But she could pretend for just one moment that the man from her dreams had walked into her life. That instead of tragedy there could be magic in life.

Reality robbed her once again, because as Chantelle looked at him she realized something for the first time. Even when he stood before her in nothing more than jeans and a shirt he was beyond her. She felt like Icarus trying to fly to the sun, they both knew their desire was a futile one. Yet she still felt a pang of sorrow at the thought. He was so close; yet still untouchable.

Chantelle had been kidding herself for so long. Believing that people got their happy ever after’s. That people still held out for that one perfect person, the one that was their other half. Who was she kidding, this was real life not some trumped up fairy tale. Or even life at the Academy, where magic and prophecy was an everyday thing.

The cold hard truth about life was there were no prince charming’s out there waiting to sweep her off her feet. Or travel to the ends of the earth for true loves kiss. Especially one that looked like he had just stepped off the cover of some bodice ripper.

Chantelle watched with careful eyes as the man before her examined the picture. He ran a pale slender finger over the image she had drawn of her dream lover and herself. It was as if he were seeing a ghost. Almost as if the image was a moment in time he had experienced.

The man turned to her, his eyes glowing with hunger, “How much for this drawing?”

Loki didn’t care how much she told him it cost, he would have it. It was an exact replica of the dream he had a few evenings ago. The dream of the woman who stood as flesh and blood before him. The woman he wanted to claim right now, her status be damned.

She was looking at him as if he had grown a second head. Perhaps this little lady was experiencing the same sense of deja vu he was. Or maybe he had startled her by walking out of her dreams and into the shop she worked at.

“I would like to purchase the picture.”

She shook her head, causing her wavy hair to swing about her shoulders. Loki found himself wanting to bury his hands in her hair and drag her close to him. To devour her mouth and make her moan as she had last night in their shared dream.

“It’s not for sale. I’m sorry.”

Loki watched with weary eyes as she sidestepped him. Perhaps she had felt the same shock he had before. She moved behind the counter with fluid grace. Loki found himself wondering if she would be as graceful when she was in his bed. Quickly he shook the images of her writhing beneath him from his mind.

As soon as his little mate was behind the counter, she shifted from a simpering damsel to a confident businesswoman. Loki never saw the change in character coming, but once it happened he smiled in approval. She would make a wonderful princess, feigning confidence even when it wasn’t there. The Sisters had chosen the perfect woman to be his Fatum Anima. Though he knew he needed to forget that they had meant her to be his equal.

Just looking at her made him forget she was still mortal. Loki had been blessed beyond imagination. For his little woman was a true goddess in the body of a mortal. He was sure that soon the Emergence would be upon her; no longer would she be trapped by her mortal body. Then Loki could pretend that she was never part of the mortal race to begin with.

If he could only hold off until the changes in her took place. Then he would not have to be disgraced by taking an enemy for a mate. He did not need the Council of Immortals looking any further down their collective noses at him. Loki already found himself on their bad side too often.

Chantelle watched as he pulled his wallet from his pants pocket. Innocently she noticed that there was no picture of a girlfriend hidden within its folds. Inwardly she breathed a sigh of relief; if there was a woman in his life, she was not important enough to justify a keepsake picture. A small part of her thrilled at the notion, but that was the irrational part. The part ruled by her heart and not her head.

“I am willing to pay the artist whatever they are asking.”

He had to know the drawing was hers. For Pete’s sake she had drawn herself in the same damn image. He was up to something. But he wasn’t willing to reveal his hand. Well played. He had to be kidding her. Sure the man before her could have been the twin of the man she had drawn, but that was where it ended. So why was some small drawing so important to him?

Chantelle was almost tempted to just give it to him, thinking maybe it would banish the dreams from her life forever, but that was a fleeting thought and nothing more. She couldn’t part with any of the images she had drawn of them together, it would be akin to selling her soul.

She plucked up her nerve and looked him in his memorizing green eyes. “I am the artist and it’s not for sale. I’m sorry, mister.”

“Loki. And everyone has a price.”

Chantelle didn’t know whether she wanted to laugh or cry. Was she even hearing right? Maybe this was some elaborate hoax Frigga and Emma were pulling? But then she got a little miffed at his comment. She was not like everyone else. She was not willing to sell the image no matter what he offered so he could just deal with it.

“Excuse me?”

Loki looked between the drawing and Chantelle, “My name is Loki.”

Her day had seemed normal enough, up until a few minutes ago. Wake up, make breakfast, get Emma off to the tutor and then come to work. So when the hell had she stepped into the Twilight Zone? Because now she was standing alone in Frigga’s shop, with some stranger who bore the name of a mythological god. Not to mention the man before her could pass for the man in the image she had drawn and it wasn’t just some passing resemblance. No, it was as if he had stepped right out the image, the only difference was his clothing.

She was ready to pinch herself; because clearly she was dreaming. “Like the Norse god?”

A sly smile tugged at his full kissable lips. What the hell had gotten into her? His lips were not kissable and he was not the same man from her dreams, so her mind could just stop reacting to him right now.

“Exactly.” He shrugged, “What can I say; my parents were into that sort of thing.”

She was ready with a witty retort when her sister came bounding through the door. “’Telle, you’ll never guess…” Her hazel eyes alighted on the man at the counter and she went six shades of white.

From the reaction her sister had to Loki, Chantelle was willing to believe she didn’t know him. So that just left Frigga or Savannah. Whichever one it was, she was going to strangle them. This was getting weird. Maybe no one had set her up. No way, that would mean that the guy before her was for real. Chantelle wondered what she had done to deserve this kind of cruel joke by fate.

“Am I interrupting something?” Emma gave her sister the eye. Chantelle knew that look. It meant that Emma wanted to ask a million questions.

Chantelle came around the counter, brushing past Loki in her haste to get to her sister. Her body heated the moment their bodies touched, but Chantelle didn’t let it shock her. She moved between Emma and the man with the piercing green eyes. She wasn’t sure if this guy was a weirdo or not and she wasn’t going to allow her sister close to him.

“No, we were just discussing my picture.”

A mischievous smile crossed Emma’s face. Chantelle knew she was up to something, but what, she wasn’t sure. Although she would bet her life on the fact that whatever it was she wasn’t going to like it.

Emma pushed passed her and approached the dark haired man. She extended her hand toward him, “I’m Emma.”

Loki bowed over her offered hand in an old world fashion. It had Chantelle thinking of chivalry and sword fights, a time when honor meant something. Not something done today, but something the man in her dreams would definitely do.