Page 15 of Forbidden Mischief

ZAYNE

I wake up to the taste of stale liquor and regret. My head is pounding, my body feels like I got hit by a spell gone wrong, and best of all—I can still feel Asher’s mouth on mine.

Fuck.

I groan, rubbing my face as flashes from last night replay behind my eyelids. His lips. His hands in my hair. My hands on his body. We didn’t just kiss.

We’ve been making out nonstop; whenever I can get him alone or vice versa, we're lip locking.

It’s hot as hell. It’s so fucking good.

And it pretty much confirms I’m bisexual. At least, for Asher.

I should feel guilty .

I should feel something .

Instead, all I can think about is how much I want to do it again.

I’m so screwed.

I force myself out of bed, wincing at the dull ache in my skull, and stumble into the hallway.

The scent of coffee hits me first, then the sound of him moving around in the kitchen.

I hesitate. I could go back to my room, pretend last night didn’t happen.

Pretend I don’t want to drag him against me and pick up where we left off.

I make my way to the bathroom, brushing my teeth quickly, trying to shake off the fog from the night before. The familiar motion helps clear my head, offering a small sense of control before I have to face him.

But instead of gathering myself, I head to the kitchen like a fucking idiot.

Asher stands at the counter, shirtless, his sweatpants hanging low on his hips. His back is all smooth golden skin and lean muscle, shifting as he reaches for his mug.

For a second, I just watch him.

Then he turns, his golden-brown eyes locking onto mine.

Neither of us says anything at first.

I wonder if he’s thinking about last night, too. If he remembers the way I grabbed his hair, the way he moaned into my mouth.

Instead of addressing any of that, I clear my throat and force out, “What’re you up to today?”

Asher takes a sip of coffee like he isn’t the reason my brain is short-circuiting. “Going for a run.”

I nod. My body is still sluggish, my head still throbbing, but fresh air sounds like a damn good idea.

His eyes flick over me, slow and assessing. “You think you can keep up?”

A challenge. Shit . He knows I can’t back down from one.

“Try me.”

A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, and fuck, I want to kiss it off him again. But I don’t. Instead, I grab a water bottle, ignore how my pulse picks up, and head toward the door.

But then I stop in my tracks and glance down at my pajamas. Barefoot. I can’t run like this. “I need to change first,” I say, swallowing the frustration. “Can’t exactly run barefoot and in my pajamas.”

Asher chuckles, nodding. “Good call.”

I turn toward the hallway, then head back to my room, my footsteps slow as my thoughts scatter in every direction. I can feel his eyes on me, the way he watches me without saying a word. It’s like he knows how much it’s messing with my head.

Inside my room, I kick off my pajama pants, pull on a pair of running shorts, and tug a simple T-shirt over my head.

I grab my sneakers from under the bed, slipping them on with a little more haste than usual, not wanting to waste time.

The entire time, I can’t help but picture Asher, waiting just outside.

Once I’m dressed, I take a moment to catch my breath, wiping a hand over my face. I’m not sure if I’m more nervous about keeping up with him on this run or how close we’ll be when we’re running. Either way, it feels like the tension’s only building.

When I finally head back down the hallway, I make my way back to the kitchen, where Asher’s waiting, now holding a second cup of coffee in his hands. He looks at me with a raised brow.

“You ready?”

“Let’s do this.” I don’t even wait for him to lead the way.

We step outside together, the air cool and crisp. Asher’s already a few feet ahead, his long legs carrying him at an effortless pace, and I jog to catch up. We don’t say anything as we head down the driveway, the only sound is the crunch of our feet against the gravel and the rustling of the trees.

Behind him, I fall into stride, keeping pace as best as I can. It’s harder than I thought—hell, the guy’s practically made of muscle—but I’m not about to let him show me up.

The second we hit the tree line, Asher shifts.

I’ve seen it before, but it still gets me. His body shudders, stretching, twisting, muscles rolling under his skin. Fur erupts over his arms and chest, his spine curves, and in a blink, he’s fully shifted—a massive black wolf standing where my stepbrother had been.

He shakes out his fur, then looks at me.

Cocky bastard.

I take off running first, knowing damn well he’s about to make me pay for it.

I’m fast—magic enhances my stamina—but he’s faster. Within seconds, he’s at my side, massive paws silent against the earth as we move. The air is thick with summer heat, my shirt clinging to my skin as I push myself harder.

But Asher doesn’t just run.

He plays.

He bumps into me, nipping at my heels, darting ahead only to double back, teasing me. A growl vibrates in his chest, not threatening but taunting. Every time I think I’m gaining ground, he cuts me off.

I fucking love it.

I shove him back, laughing as I almost trip, but then—I actually do.

I go down hard, dirt and leaves sticking to my sweat-damp skin. Before I can react, Asher pounces.

A hundred and something pounds of wolf lands on top of me, pinning me flat to the ground. His fur is warm, his breath hot against my neck.

I’m laughing, breathless—until I feel it.

His cock.

It’s pressed against me, even through his fur, and my entire body locks up.

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

My pulse slams in my ears. Asher freezes too, his massive frame tensing before he suddenly pushes off me, his claws digging into the dirt as he bolts.

Gone .

I sit up, chest heaving, mind racing.

I should be freaked out. I should be disgusted.

But all I can think about is the way his weight felt on me.

I swallow hard and run a hand through my hair, trying to make sense of it. I can’t.

And that scares me more than anything.

Back at the house, I shower, hoping to scrub away whatever the hell that was. It doesn’t work.

Asher shows up a little while later, human again, dressed in nothing but low-slung sweatpants. His hair is damp from his own shower, and when he meets my eyes, I see it—the same thing I feel.

Tension. Uncertainty. Something way too dangerous.

“You okay?” I ask, keeping my voice casual.

Asher runs a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly. “Yeah. Just—” He pauses, choosing his words. “I get a little more primal when I’m shifted. Not as in control.”

I nod like that explains everything. Like that makes what I felt okay.

“Needed a minute to collect myself,” he adds.

I swallow. “Right.”

Silence stretches. It’s not awkward, but it’s thick. Heavy .

Then he shifts on his feet and says, “Wanna watch a movie?”

A perfect distraction.

“Yeah,” I say, grateful for something—anything—to break whatever weird spell we’re under.

We settle onto the couch, but I can’t focus on the screen. I barely register what’s playing.

Because Asher is right next to me.

His arm along the back of the couch. His body heat soaking into mine. Every shift, every breath, every tiny movement—I feel all of it.

I tell myself it’s fine. It’s normal. We’ve sat next to each other like this a thousand times before. But my body doesn’t believe me.

Not after last night.

Not after today.

Not after… that.

I try to focus on the movie. Some action flick, explosions, gunfire—shit I usually like. But my mind keeps dragging me back.

To the feel of his wolf pinning me down.

The weight of him, pressing into me.

The heat between us, too much, too close.

The way my body reacted before my brain could catch up.

I shift in my seat, restless. My skin won’t cool down.

Asher glances at me, his gaze flicking over my face. “You good?”

No. Absolutely not.

“Yeah, fine. Just, uh, enjoying the movie. Love this part.”

He doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t push either. Just nods and turns back to the screen.

I watch him from the corner of my eye.

The sharp line of his jaw. The way the glow from the TV catches the golden flecks in his eyes. His lips—the same ones that had been on mine last night.

Fuck.

I shouldn’t want him.

I shouldn’t want this.

But I do. And now, it’s even worse than before.

Because now, I know what he feels like.