Mischief's Mate (The Immortal Mates Book 1)

by Scarletti, Nicolette

  “What kind of trouble are you in now?”

  “Umm... well I might be running from some sicko who thinks I’m his mate.”

  Running from her mate? Why the hell would she do that? He was the only one who would be able to protect her. Lord knows, she needed protecting. Arabella was the child of a prophecy; a dark prophecy. One that said only Bells had the power enough to see the outcome of a great battle that was meant to happen sometime in the future. So needless to say the good guys wanted her safe and the bad guys wanted her dead.

  It was as simple as that. Or at least that was how she had explained it when they were last together. But now, Chantelle wasn’t so sure. She had spoken to Clotho and knew that there was more to all of this than Bells had let on.

  “Why the hell are you running from him?”

  Arabella wanted to laugh at her friend’s question. Soon, Chantelle wouldn’t be acting so incredulous. She just needed to wait and see. Her Fatum Anima would be coming soon and then the shoe would be on the other foot.

  Besides Father Dugan wasn’t her mate and she was not going back to that hell he called a playroom ever again. She would find a way to end her life if he caught her again. Arabella couldn’t even think about what such an action on her part would do to her mate. She needed to remember what a year in the priest’s playroom had done to her and nothing else.

  She wasn’t about to tell Chantelle what kind of trouble she was in. Knowing her friend the way she did, she knew Chantelle would be on the next plane out to save her. Then the both of them would be in over their heads. It was tough enough for Bells and she’d been running for two years. She couldn’t chance Chantelle’s life. There was no way she could keep them both safe.

  “Why wouldn’t I?” When Chantelle answered with an exasperated sigh Bells continued, “Besides run a mile in my shoes and all that utter rot.”

  “That is not an answer. Are you ok? I’ll come get you.”

  A tree branch slapped her in the face as she ran through the dark woods. She had only just turned twenty-five, her body just now readying for the Emergence. So sometimes her new speed or strength surprised her.

  “Nah, I’m fine. Now, listen I only called you back because you need to know something.”

  Chantelle held her breath; she knew that if she had the nerve to tell Bells what she had been dreaming all these years she would have had some kind of answer. But she just couldn’t bring herself to tell another person. Enough people thought she was crazy.

  “Ok.” She bit her lip as she waited for Bells to reveal some karmic destiny.

  “First off, stop biting your lip, you’re going to need it soon enough.”

  Chantelle quickly set her lip free from her teeth. A nervous laugh escaping her now reddened lips. “Is that the big reveal?”

  Please God, let it be all she had to say was what she was thinking. Chantelle wasn’t ready to be part of Bells’ visions. She was known in immortal circles as Arabella the Foreseeing. Apropos if you asked Chantelle, because Bells could see way before any shit hit the fan.

  “No it isn’t. Now listen to me, I don’t have much time. Deep inside the Serpent’s Den, the emerging Valkyrie warrior will meet her destiny. There she will be claimed by a giant.”

  Cryptic much? That premonition didn’t make any sense. How could a Valkyrie warrior meet her destiny at a Serpent’s Den? And who the hell was she calling a Valkyrie? Or a giant for that matter?

  “Um… Bells you’re a little fuzzy there. There aren’t any more Valkyries. There hasn’t been a new one made in over a millennium.”

  “Gotta go. Sweet dreams.”

  Chantelle was about to say something else but the phone went dead in her hand. “Now, how do you like that?”

  But before she could call Bells back her cell buzzed. The screen lit up to display a message from the Foreseeing one herself. ‘Don’t call me; I’ll call you.’

  Arabella knew she shouldn’t have called Chantelle back, but the vision had demanded it. She needed to tell her friend what was on the horizon. It hadn’t mattered that it would cost her time and energy, when a premonition came it had to be delivered. She just hoped that everything would work out for Chantelle. Bells had seen two outcomes to the destiny of her friend. One had everyone alive and well. The other; well she didn’t even want to think about it.

  Pushing the power off button to her cell, she took off toward the abandoned car lot. If she could only get there before Father Dugan caught up with her, she would be safe. She could hot wire a car and get to where Chantelle needed her to be.

  Chapter 9:

  The mists of her dream began to lift slowly, the world around her becoming clearer. First just the outer rim of the dream grew clear and then as if a veil was lifted the rest of the room was in focus.

  He was there, her magic man, his back toward her. Chantelle took in a sharp breath and he spun around to face her. Her heart nearly stopped at the sight of him. Each time they met he grew more attractive. As if with each meeting there were things about him she was seeing for the first time.

  “My pet, I am coming for you.”

  She wanted to tell him like hell he was, but two bright green eyes threatened to hold her hostage. She knows it’s only a trick yet she couldn’t seem to look away. Finally Chantelle was able to break the spell he had on her.

  He advanced on her; his hands out in a beseeching manor. Chantelle put her hands out in front of her, as she tried to ward him off. The longer she fought his hold on her, the harder it was for her to breathe. As if her body knew that he was the other part of her soul and it was annoyed she would deny him.

  She shook herself. There was no way she could faint now; if she did God only knew what would happen to her at the hands of this man who thought to put a claim on her.

  “No.” It came out a whisper. She took in a steadying breath and tried to pluck up her courage. “Stay the hell away from me.”

  He continued to advance on her and Chantelle found herself trapped against the wall. A soft whimper escaped her lips as her dream lover pulled her into his arms.

  “Come now, pet, it won’t be so bad. I shall keep you and care for you. What more could you want?”

  “Well, let me see…Not you.”

  Chantelle struggled against his hold, with every twist his arms grew tighter. She felt her conscious mind try to surface, fighting the dream. Her mind was too consumed with her fear to turn the dream back on course. She only hoped that if she concentrated enough maybe she could alter the dream.

  She knew something was wrong, there was a feeling of something dark controlling this dream. Chantelle didn’t see Signe hidden deep in the dark corners of the dream. It was her dark magic that seemed to turn Chantelle’s caring magic man into a Neanderthal. Chantelle swore she would fight it. She took a few steadying breaths and tried to draw up the true feeling of her dreams. Slowly, she felt the essence of the dream shift.

  Her movements stilled as he came back to himself. Chantelle’s dream self knew that no matter how far she wanted to run, cool heads needed to prevail. She knew as long as she stayed calm the dream wouldn’t go haywire again.

  Of their own accord her hands fluttered to his face. Chantelle ran her fingertips over the smooth planes of his cheeks. Even daring to run a finger over his lips. A need so sharp rose up in her at the feeling of his lips against her fingers.

  Her magic man sucked her finger into his mouth, stroking the digit with his tongue. Chantelle closed her eyes as a soft moan escaped her lips. Its echo reaching her ears, bringing her back to her senses. She pulled her finger away from him.

  “Be still.” He lifted his hand to caress her cheek with his long slender fingers.

  Chantelle shook her head trying to stay focused. If she had enough presence of mind to change his attitude then there had to be a way for her to end the dream. A way for her to call her subconscious mind back to herself.

  He leaned forward, his cool breath tickling her ear. “You belong here with me, pet.”


  “Pet? I’m not a damn dog. And I’m not staying here.”

  Chantelle struggled against his hold on her, she just couldn’t stay. It didn’t matter that he promised her forever. There weren’t enough whispers of better days ahead to make her forget her promise to herself. To her sister.

  Long before her magic man had become persistent, she had given her word. The last time she had visited her parent’s grave Chantelle promised to care for Emma and that’s exactly what she was going to do. Forget whatever screwed up happily ever after he was promising her.

  With all she was worth Chantelle fought his hold on her. The harder she struggled the more tangled in his arms she became.

  “If you must go, then you must. But soon, my little pet, you will be mine.”

  Chantelle’s heart gave a jolt as with one last jerk of her upper body she was free. She jerked upright when her sheet entangled body made contact with her bedroom floor. The morning sun streamed in through her ivory lace curtains causing Chantelle to groan. She had thought her sleepless nights were over. It had been a little over a week since her last dream of him.

  After her therapy session her dreams had ceased. There was a false sense of security that had settled over her. Although there was that nagging voice in the back of her mind telling her the other shoe was waiting to drop and drop it had. First with Bells’ premonition that sounded too much like a warning; second because this dream had been too deep and vivid.

  Chantelle could have sworn that she felt, actually felt the wall behind her. Not that ghostly lingering of a dream. That if she lifted her shirt, to inspect her back she would see a red line from where she had pressed herself into one of the book shelves.

  Her raven haired dream lover was getting harder and harder to deny. With his whispered words that promised her a love like no other. The way his green eyes shown with tenderness as he promised to be her salvation.

  Chantelle’s mind struggled to understand it all. She wasn’t even prepared to touch on the fact that he had gone all, chest banging caveman on her. Maybe it was her conscious mind trying to push him away. Or maybe she had to stop reading those alpha-male romances before bed.

  She had a sudden urge to cry, to have the tears wash away her worry. As the clear pearls leaked from her eyes and over her flushed cheeks, Chantelle wondered if she was going crazy. Perhaps she had finally cracked under the pressures life was putting on her.

  Emma came rushing in, a look of worry etched on her face. “’Telle, what happened?”

  Chantelle pulled herself up from the hardwood floor and busied herself with the sheets. Emma saw the way her hands trembled as she grasped the edge of the sheet. Emma plopped herself down in the middle of the bed, leaving Chantelle no other choice but to speak to her.

  “Spill it, now.”

  Chantelle pulled her chocolate waves out of her face and secured it back with a clip. There was nothing she wanted to say about why she was on the floor, but one look at Emma’s face made her change her mind.

  “What do you want to hear? I feel like I’m going crazy.”

  “Oh, that’s a start, at least.”

  Chantelle pulled a face at her sister’s words and began to turn away. She couldn’t tell her that she had spoken to Bells. Not when she knew her friend was in trouble and that there was nothing either of them could do about it. It would upset Emma needlessly.

  Emma smiled up at her and pulled her down next to her. She threw her frail arms around Chantelle’s shoulders. At the gesture she was reminded of all the times Emma used to sneak into her room in the middle of the night. Frightened by some horror movie the two had watched together. Now the roles were reversed and she was the one seeking comfort.

  “It was the dream again, wasn’t it?”

  Emma’s words brought back her feelings from the dream. Chantelle knew that for the rest of the day she would feel his long fingers splayed across her hips; the heat of his mouth where he had sucked her finger. It was like every touch she received in her dreams was branded on her skin. She knew that if they had ever come together in real life it would be explosive. Her magic man was the type that ruined a woman for all other men. Once you had a taste of his particular brand of love nothing else would do.

  But she did not like what he had offered her this time in her dream. It sounded as if he planned to keep her as nothing more than a toy. One of many lovers. Yet, somewhere deep inside her heart she knew that if that was all he was willing to give she would take it.

  There was that tell-tale look on Chantelle’s face. It was always the same, after every dream, Chantelle walked around on cloud nine; like some enchanted princess from a cartoon. Emma half expected seven little men to start following her sister around.

  “Girl, you got it bad for him.” She elbowed Chantelle with a wide smile on her lips.

  Chantelle brightened when she thought about how well rested Emma looked. She would take a life full of sleepless nights, just so her sister always looked well.

  She brushed a stray hair behind Emma’s ear, “I’m going to shower. Then we’ll go to see Dr. Berger, ok?”

  Emma nodded hopping off the bed as well. Both girls went in different directions to get ready for the day.

  The pounding of horse’s hooves filled the predawn air. Loki pushed his jet black steed hard hoping to have this mission complete before dinner. With his luck and the way he knew his mother he might not be back for a week.

  He hadn’t slept well the night before. It was that damn dream again; except last night had been different. The young woman who normally haunted his dreams always put up a good fight when he made his advances on her. But last night she was terrified of him and her eyes said it all. Loki was irritated by this new turn of events. For some reason her fear bothered him more than anything else ever could. There was a twisting in his stomach as he thought of her frightened brown eyes, pleading with him.

  He dug his heels in the horse’s flank not knowing how long his patience would hold out. Not when he was working on no sleep and so many things conspired to remind him of his disgrace.

  There would be time enough when he returned to figure everything out. His dreams had begun to vex him. For the last twenty years he had dreamt of her. For the first fifteen years when he would dream of her they would just talk. Sometimes she would ask him questions about his life. Other times she would tell him stories of her own.

  Yet never once in all that time had they shared their names with each other. That was something that Loki was just beginning to find odd. But now that she acted as if he were a villain from a dark fairy tale Loki doubted she would tell him her name.

  Then four years ago everything changed. It was as if a haze was lifted from before his eyes. It was the first time Loki had seen her as something more than a friend. That first night he had an urge to spirit her away. In his dream state his soul began to call to her as if she were his mate. He often felt an odd pulling sensation in the region of his heart when he saw the girl. It felt as if he had waited an eternity to find her.

  What bothered him most about the girl was she was clearly mortal and that just would not do. He was a royal immortal and as such he could not have feelings for a sworn enemy. Although he was the only one who saw mortals as a threat. The only one who knew mortals for the treacherous beasts they truly were.

  Loki knew he would have to speak to his mother about the turn of events. He had always gone to her when he had one of his dreams. She was always eager to listen to her young son and give advice where needed. He wished this mate crap was his only problem but it wasn’t. Loki knew he would have to keep his eyes open for Signe and whatever treacherous plan she had.

  His horse came to a sudden halt as Heimdal stood before the gates to the Bifrost, sword by his side. His amber eyes seemed to pierce right through Loki; it was almost as if he could see your soul.

  “Loki Odin-son, state your business.”

  Dismounting his steed, he approached the gatekeeper. As he drew near, Loki pul
led an envelope out of his cloak and handed Heimdal the missive. The gatekeeper’s amber eyes examined the note for anything out of the ordinary. The young prince didn’t know if he was trying to find a lie in the truth but he wished Heimdal would get on with it. Even as a small boy he had found the gatekeeper’s stillness unnerving. Heimdal handed the note back to Loki. Raising his gleaming sword the gates to the Bifrost opened.

  “Safe journey and may the Sisters of Fate be with you, Prince Loki.”

  Loki bowed his head in Heimdal's direction and moved through the gate under the watchful eyes of its keeper. The vibrant colors of the rainbow bridge made it hard for Loki to see the merriment in the gatekeeper’s eyes.

  As the colors began to dance around him, Loki felt the pull of the Bifrost just behind his navel. No matter how often he traveled this way there was no getting used to it. Loki always felt like he had been to battle after a trip through the Bifrost. The lights swirled around him. It was complete and utter chaos. All the young immortal could do was close his eyes and hope it would be over soon.

  Unfortunately the landing was just as treacherous as the trip had been. Loki landed in a kneeling position; knees bent and fingertips touching the ground. He stayed that way a moment longer then he would have liked. But it was either that or stumble around as if he were drunk on the best mead the immortals had to offer.

  Dusting himself off, he headed in the direction of his mother’s home. Loki received several odd looks and he wondered what these mortals were looking at. They should have been looking on him in fear and wonder; yet here they were snickering.

  An uneasy feeling settle over him. The way they were pointing and laughing, brought back unpleasant memories of his childhood. He had been teased by Thor and his friends unmercifully back then. When he would go to his father for help, Odin would not bother to punish the crown prince. His father would often tell him that Thor was helping him learn a great lesson; out of great suffering comes great knowledge.

  His father was right on that, his suffering had taught Loki to wait until the time was right to exact his revenge. Too bad for him Thor was a tattletale. His father would lecture Loki about learning to get along. In those days there had been a lot of talk about letting bygones be bygones. Rubbish, all of it.