Page 48 of Baldr's Secret Mate

“Then we’ll just stay here!”

“I can’t do that,” I said, cupping his cheek and wiping his tears away with my thumbs. “My family and my entire pack will be killed if I don’t go back soon. I can’t let that happen.”

Mist’s face twisted, pain flickering across his features as he gripped my arms tighter, as though he could anchor me here, in this peaceful clearing, forever.

“There has to be another way,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “We—I can’t lose you. Not like this.”

I swallowed hard, my throat dry as the ashy remnants of our fire. In all the times I had envisioned this conversation, I had never found the right words to soothe him. The truth was… there weren’t any. No words could soften the inevitability of what lay ahead.

“We’ll figure it out together,” Mist continued desperately, his hands trembling against me. “You said the visions aren’t always clear and maybe they’re not set in stone yet, right? Maybe we still have time—time to change it.”

I sighed, brushing a lock of dark hair from his damp cheek. His hope was a fragile thing, glimmering and warm despite the cold reality pressing in on us. It hurt to watch that lively green in his eyes fade until they were nearly lifeless. I could tell he knew my end was inevitable, he just hadn’t accepted it yet.

But I had. And it was time to go.

Chapter Twenty-Six: Mist

My world was a haze. A thick blanket of desperation and unimaginable sadness hung over my senses, drowning out the world around me. I barely felt the heat of the sun anymore or the touch of Baldr’s hand against my skin. My gaze followed him as he got up and pulled out his mother’s spellbook, casting a simple spell to guide us along the path that would take us home. However, it wasn’t until he physically lifted me to my feet that I really began to notice anything again. Even then, the world had turned gray to me once more. Despite the wildflowers in the fields and the lush greenery around us, I could feel no joy.

My mate was going to die. The man I loved more than anything, that I’d only just gotten to touch for the first time two days ago, was being ripped away from me. There was no greater cruelty I could think of and I couldn’t figure out how to stop it from happening either. Baldr wasn’t going to stay in Asgard, not with his family in danger. And I couldn’t blame him. But I didn’t have enough control over my power to save him. I was as good as useless and then some. The weight of that realization threatenedto crush me to death. And for a moment, I wished it would. At least that way I wouldn’t have to watch Baldr die right in front of my eyes.

HIs arms steadied me as I swayed on my feet, his grip firm but gentle, as though he feared I might shatter beneath his touch. His eyes flitted over me, bright and unrelenting, the way they always were when he was trying to read my thoughts. But this time, I didn’t meet his gaze. I couldn’t bear to let him see the defeat in my soul, the hopelessness carved into every inch of me. So, with nothing more than a soft nudge, we gathered up our things and headed out of the forest.

Before we left the cover of the trees, I noticed a small golden thread connected to Baldr’s chest. It took me a moment to realize it was the magic he’d cast, the one that would show us the way home. The power it took was almost negligible and even through the bond, I couldn’t feel it draining either one of us. However, the fate that tiny thread connected to was more powerful than anything I’d ever witnessed in my life. How would I learn to live without him? And would I even want to?

Out in the sunlight the thread was harder to see, but Baldr followed it, nonetheless. It seemed to follow the river, which didn’t surprise me considering what the spirit guide had told me the day before. The river was the key to going home. I caught myself wishing it would suddenly dry up so we couldn’t return at all.

Baldr glanced back at me as we walked, his silver hair catching the light in a way that made him seem almost unearthly. Even now, with shadows of fate looming heavy over us, he radiated an effortless strength, a quiet resolve that only made my torment worse. He had no idea how deeply it hurt to look at him, to see the life still burning so brightly in his eyes while knowing it would be extinguished far too soon.

“You’ll trip if you keep dragging your feet like that,” he said softly, the corner of his mouth twitching into a faint smile. He was trying to lighten the moment again, though I could see the cracks in his facade. Not even Baldr could hide the worry pooling behind his eyes as much as he tried. I could feel it seeping into every corner of my brain thanks to our bond.

“I don’t care,” I muttered. My voice felt hollow even to me.

He stopped abruptly and turned toward me, his hand reaching out to gently cup my cheek. The warmth of his touch startled me—it always did—but this was different.

“Mist,” he said softly, the hint of a plea in his voice. “Don’t be like this. Not when we have so little time left together.”

I choked up immediately, tears forming in the corners of my eyes. Baldr, without missing a beat, wiped them away with his thumbs, putting on a smile for me.

“I want my journey to be full of laughter and smiles,” he said. “I know it’s hard… but this is all the time we have. So let’s make the best of it, okay?”

I stared at him for a long moment, wanting to scream, to argue, to tell him he was asking the impossible. But what kind of mate would I be if I forced him to live his last few days or even hours in a melancholy haze?

“O-Okay,” I croaked, forcing myself to speak at last. “I… I’ll try.”

He smiled, placing a soft kiss on my lips. “That’s all I can ask, baby. And thank you.” He pulled me into a firm hug, squeezing me tight. “I love you so much, Mist.”

“I love you too, Baldr.”

Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to smile. With some effort, I managed to stamp down a few of my emotions, letting the more positive ones rise to the surface.

As we continued our journey along the river, I made a conscious effort to focus on the present moment, to soak in every detail of Baldr's presence beside me. The way the sunlight caught his hair, the rhythm of his breathing, the gentle pressure of his hand in mine—I committed it all to memory. I found I loved the way he glanced at me now and then with those beautiful golden eyes and the bond between us surged with affection. It seemed he just liked to look at me and that made me feel more loved than I thought possible. My very existence made him happy.

“Tell me about your favorite childhood memory,” I said, breaking the silence that had settled between us. Baldr looked at me, surprised but pleased to carry a conversation as well.

“Well,” he began, a nostalgic smile spreading across his face, “there was this one time when I was about seven. My father took me fishing down in one of the hollers at an old pond. It was just the two of us, no pack duties, no expectations. Just a father and son.”

As Baldr recounted the story, his eyes lit up with joy. He described how they'd spent hours by the water, talking and laughing the day away. At one point the seven-year-old Baldr had managed to hook at catfish bigger than himself and it had nearly pulled him into the pond. However, thanks to his father’s intervention, they were able to land the beast.

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