Mischief's Mate (The Immortal Mates Book 1) (17 page)

She rose from the couch, resolved to the fact that there were more pressing matters than Bragi and Savannah. Frigga would drive her sons to the only hospital in the area and leave them off. Then she would get to the bottom of things.

Savannah’s accusations echoed around in her mind. Had she truly used Chantelle? At the time she didn’t think she was. But the longer she thought about it, the more Frigga realized it might seem that way. She would have felt the same way if it was her.

A tear slipped out of her eyes as she realized she may have lost Chantelle forever. She had kept everything a secret for a just reason, but a shattered trust was hard to restore. Harder still than rebuilding a destroyed empire.

“Are you ready, mother, we’re leaving now.”

With a wave of her hand she was dressed. They all left the house and piled into her car. Which was a feat in and of itself, with three grown Aesir men.

She put the key in the ignition, pausing, “Loki, I would advise you not to make a scene at the hospital.”

He shot her a look that said he was old enough to handle Chantelle. That perhaps he would have done a better job than she had. That maybe if he had been told of the things going on they could have avoided all of this.

“I will endeavor to act like a gentleman, if Chantelle chooses to behave.”

Frigga shot him a knowing smile; a smile that set his teeth on edge. There was something his all-seeing mother wasn’t telling him about Chantelle. But he was in no mood to argue with her. Instead he settled himself in the seat and let his mind wander. Whatever his mother was hiding about his mate he would find out; sooner rather than later. If Loki had anything to say about it.

Soft hissing filled the room as the respirator breathed for Emma. Chantelle’s eyes followed the rise and fall of the pump as it fought to keep her sister alive. Fought to do what the lungs of a healthy person did day in and day out. Giving her breath, something most people took for granted.

The room began to blur as her eyes filled to overflowing with tears. This couldn’t be happening, not after her last doctor’s visit. Dr. Berger had told her everything was fine; better than fine and now this.

It had been only a few days since Emma had slipped into a coma. The night they had rushed her into the emergency room now seemed like a lifetime ago. It was nothing more than the beginning of a bad dream; one that Chantelle hoped she would awake from soon. There were times as she sat and watched Emma that she wanted to pinch herself to see if she would wake from this nightmare.

It wasn’t that the hospital staff was incompetent; on the contrary, they had been wonderful. As soon as Emma had been brought in they had patched her head wound. It had taken only fifteen stitches. Slowly she had come awake and the doctor had decided to keep her overnight. Just for observation they had said.

She had begged Chantelle to go home and get some rest. Her baby sister wouldn’t hear her protest of not wanting to leave her alone. If she remembered right Emma had rolled her eyes at her; something that the doctor advised against.

Her baby sister’s humor wasn’t hurt from her fall; Emma told Chantelle to go home and take a shower, before she received a letter from the board of health. Seeing that she was well enough to joke, Chantelle agreed. Promising to be back as soon as she had showered and eaten something. With a kiss to the forehead she had left saying she would bring back some chocolate pudding for Emma. But things hadn’t gone to plan.

As soon as Chantelle had stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel about herself, the phone started to ring. In that instant her world came crashing down around her.

The voice on the phone belonged to the emergency room doctor. He was calling to tell her that her sister had slipped into a coma moments before. She had all but flown to the hospital after that call. Not caring if she was stopped by a cop for speeding, so long as she got to Emma fast.

Since that night Chantelle had only left Emma’s bedside to change and eat; but only when Savannah would come and take her place. Her good friend never needed to sit there long and she often asked Chantelle if she kept a change of clothes in the car. Savannah question wasn’t far off. She had thrown most of her jeans and tops in the back of the car before she had rushed over that night. The nurses let her shower in the staff bathroom.

Chantelle was sitting beside Emma now, one of her cold hands snug in her warm one. She was waiting for Savannah to bring her something to eat. Since Emma had ended up here, she didn’t bother to eat unless someone forced her to.

Chantelle had no other family members close by, so the job of making her eat fell on Savannah. No matter how much she hounded her, Chantelle still only picked at her food. In the last four days she had dropped a dangerous amount of weight.

None of that was important to her; the only thing that mattered was the dying girl in front of her. As Chantelle sat beside Emma, she wondered what she could have done differently. She had always made sure her sister went for her checkups and her chemo. She had gone as far as, getting Emma a tutor from the Academy, when the doctor had told them that going to school was out of the question.

Shaking her head she let out a sorrow filled sigh. No amount of second guessing would help her sister now. All any of them could do was pray to whoever would listen. Chantelle just hoped that she hadn’t run out of favors with God. He had given her the strength to pick their lives up after their parents had died. He had even given her courage to face the cancer alongside Emma. Now she needed him to bring her sister back from the brink of death. And as she sat there she made a silent vow; Chantelle swore that she would forfeit her own happiness just to have her well again. None of it mattered without Emma anyway.

Standing up, she stretched her legs they had grown stiff from sitting in the same position for so many hours. She smoothed back Emma’s hair, a tear sliding down her cheek.

“If I could, I would switch places with you.” Her nervous fingers fussed over the itchy regulation blankets.

She watched her baby sister lying before her as still as death. She was tiny and withered from being fed with only I.V. It seemed to Chantelle that her once vibrant presence was gone and it would never return.

Chantelle felt her heart breaking all over again. She had buried their parents not four years ago and where that had hurt her deeply, it was nothing compared to this. Losing Emma now would crush her beyond repair.

Emma had always been more like her child, than her sister. She had been almost nine when her parents had brought her baby sister home. From that cold January day on, Emma had been everything to Chantelle.

She had fed her and rocked her to sleep. She was the one Emma would run to when a boo-boo needed to be kissed better. It was Chantelle’s bed she snuck into after a bad dream. And it was her arms she had wept into when they buried their parents.

So why was it now, when Emma needed her most that she had failed her? Chantelle wanted to rage at the world. What purpose would the death of her sixteen year old sister serve? What crime had she committed that she would be cheated of life?

“What good do all these damn fairy-tales serve? They make us hope for happily ever after and life just screws us over anyway.”

Chantelle wanted so badly for Emma to answer her. She thought that maybe she could will a snarky response from her. What she wouldn’t give at that moment to hear her sister tell her that life didn’t hand you a happily ever after. You had to grab for it, with enough strength to keep a lion and yet soft enough to hold a bubble.

“You do not mean that?” The rasp of his voice chilled her.

Chantelle dropped Emma’s hand and spun around to face her unwanted guest. There in the doorway stood Loki. All the mischief had gone from his eyes and only sadness remained as he looked past Chantelle to the bed behind her.

In that instant she forgot the promise she had made Emma. It was the look in his eyes that had her forgetting. Chantelle neither needed nor wanted his pity.

She bristled, “I thought I told you to stay the hell away from us?”

The door to the hospital room closed with a resounding click. Silence settled between them; a heaviness filling the air. The tension was thick and palpable.

“Alas, I cannot. Your soul cries out for mine.” Loki stepped further into the room, “I would be remiss if I did not seek to comfort you.”

Here he stood before his mate and she wouldn’t allow him to comfort her. It was his honor and right to care for Chantelle when she needed it. To be honest he needed the contact as much as she did.

Loki felt her pain as if it were his own. It tore at his heart worse than a dagger or sword ever could. He knew that he would endure any torment the Council could come up with so long as Chantelle didn’t have to suffer.

For a brief moment he battled with his inner beast. Loki’s instincts told him to claim her and stop all this senseless nonsense. Neither of them should suffer if the solution to their pain was obvious. The binding of their souls would seal them to each other. Once they were bound there would be nowhere for Chantelle to run. Loki would be able to follow the essence of her soul. Besides, once she accepted him as her chosen male she wouldn’t want to run.

He knew that claiming her now would only push her further away. Chantelle would rage against such an act while her sister lay dying. With every ounce of will he had Loki rained in his beast.

That didn’t mean that he wasn’t willing to show her just how much she meant to him. How much she made him feel, after centuries of emptiness. His little woman needed to know exactly what it was she gave to him.

Chantelle watched, wide-eyed, as Loki stalked forward like a lone Timber wolf scenting his mate across the miles. She wanted to back away from him, but there was nowhere to go. Loki blocked the only exit and she wasn’t about to leave her sister with some villainous immortal.

The second the thought flitted across her mind she regretted it. He’s not evil or malicious. Only misunderstood. For if Loki was truly without feeling then he would have bent her to his will and everything else be damned.

Her heart ached with her harsh judgment of him. She felt unworthy of the necklace that hung about her neck. The owl that once felt light and welcoming was now no more than an albatross of guilt.

Loki reached her then, standing before her like some fallen angel. His fingers slid over the bare skin of her arm. The moment his hand alighted on her skin, a tremor ran through her body. Heat pooled in her core at his mere touch.

Chantelle closed her eyes and took a shuddering breath. His scent hit her full force; leather and sandalwood. Masculine in every way. Loki was the epitome of everything she ever wanted in a man.

Her womb clenched in need. Chantelle’s body and soul recognized him as her Fatum Anima. Causing her to crave the feel of him, the way an addict craved a fix. She would have done anything for just one touch.

Then the rational part of her brain kicked in; realizing she was leaning into him. Chantelle pulled herself away with a start. Her once dreamy expression now taken over by an angry glare. He was trying to bewitch her and Chantelle wasn’t going to have it.

Loki cleared his throat and became all business. Acting as if he hadn’t been trying to seduce her moments ago.

“I want you to leave, before you try to bespell me again.”

“Be that as it may, I feel my place is beside you, love.”

At his words Chantelle had remembered Emma telling her that Loki thought she belonged to him. She had said something about a prophecy and how she was the only one who could tame his inner beast. The thought of what taming Loki meant brought a blush to Chantelle’s cheeks.

A hint of desire lit his jade eyes as he took in her parted lips. The blush that painted Chantelle’s high cheekbones made her innocence evident. Loki was reminded that his chosen one had never known a man. Just the thought of her innocence had his beast howling in delight. It was better that she was untouched. There was something about Chantelle that had him wanting to possess her. To be the first man she would know and the last.

Any boy that would dare to bed her would have paid. Loki could be very creative when he wanted, he was known throughout The Council of Immortals for his wicked schemes. He would make seven years bad luck look like a walk in the park, compared to what he would do to a boy who soiled her. No, an innocent mate was better for everyone involved.

Chantelle turned from his intense gaze, busying herself with fixing Emma’s blankets. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him. Not when the sight of him had her thinking of how tender he was with her. As if she was spun sugar and the merest touch would break her.

If only Loki acted like an egotistical pig, it would have been easier to dislike him. To keep him at arm’s length, where he couldn’t reach her heart. But he had to be everything she had ever fantasized a man should be. Chivalrous, protective, caring.

“Please just leave. I would like to grieve in peace.”

Her voice was strained as she held back her tears. Chantelle refused to cry in front of him. She was always the strong one. The one everyone came to with their problems. Not the one who wept and begged for a hero to rescue her.

Then her eyes drifted over Emma and she noticed that she somehow looked sicker now. Chantelle’s heart broke at the sight of her weakened sister. She couldn’t stand to watch her waste away. Such wasted youth.

“How terrible it is to love something that sickness and death can touch. We know nothing of this in our world.”

Chantelle thought he had said, our world, as if they already lived there together. “That’s immortals. Your world, not mine.”

She knew if Loki had his way her world would be the one he resided in. She would be spirited away to a place where no harm could ever touch her, or those she loved.

Loki wrapped his arms around her. His lips laying a tender kiss to her hair. She felt her body being enveloped in his warmth and a traitor tear slide down her cheek.

“It would please me if you allowed me to comfort you.”

Chantelle wasn’t stupid, mortal yes, but not stupid. She knew he was far stronger than she was. Not just physically, but magically. There was a raw magic that seemed to flow off of Loki and into her. As if her soul pulsed in answer.

With a wave of his hand he could make her forget everything and everyone. It would have been easier for him to force her compliance. Yet here he stood holding her, giving her the time she required. Where any other would have pushed forward whether she wanted to or not.

He confused Chantelle. The last time they had seen each other he acted as if he had every right to make this decision for her. Now he was acting as if she were his equal. Something they both knew was not the case; Halfling or not.

“You could force me. You and I both know that.” Chantelle begged him with her eyes to tell her he would never dream of forcing her.

Loki let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. Chantelle hadn’t pushed him away. She didn’t even try to fight him. All she did was state the truth between them. It seemed she was beginning to accept their bond. Even if it was a tenuous acceptance, Loki would be happy with what Chantelle offered him. He knew he couldn’t force her to give him anything she wasn’t willing to give.