Page 20 of Forbidden Mischief

ZAYNE

A week.

That’s how long it’s been since Asher finally gave in; since I let him have me, ruin me, claim me in every way that matters. Since I felt his teeth sink into my skin, his knot locking us together while he growled my name like I was the only thing in the world.

And now?

Now, I sleep in his bed every night, wrapped up in him like he’s the only thing keeping me breathing.

Every night, his arms curl around me, tight and possessive, like he can’t bear to let me go. But that’s all he does—holds me.

No kissing. No touching. No talking about what happened.

I know he’s thinking about it, though—I can feel it. The hesitation in the way his fingers trace my skin when he thinks I’m asleep, the way his breath hitches when I shift too close. He’s worried. That him knotting me, marking me, was too much.

But it wasn’t.

I loved it.

Once again, he proved every other partner I’ve had was fucking trash.

I want him—in every way.

To live in my ass.

To knot me nice and slow, taking his time, claiming me the way we both know he needs to.

I want to know if I can fuck him.

But he won’t talk about it. Won’t let himself have me again.

And I’m done waiting.

He thinks I can’t handle him.

Like I wasn’t made to take him.

I hate it. The space he’s put between us. The way he’s pulling away when all I want to do is get closer.

So now I’m here, at this stupid bonfire, watching him from across the flames, stewing in my own frustration.

And then I see her.

She’s got her hands all over him. Laughing, flipping her hair, touching him like she’s got a chance.

My stomach turns to stone.

My Magic snaps to life, sparking beneath my skin like a second heartbeat. Fingers curl into fists. Vision tunnels.

Mine.

I move.

It’s not a decision—it’s instinct. My body slices through the crowd, my blood pounding in my ears, the fire at my back turning my shadow into something long and wild.

When I reach them, I don’t stop.

I shove the girl away—not hard enough to knock her down, but enough. Enough to make it clear she doesn’t belong here, touching him .

She stumbles back, gasping. “What the hell?”

I don’t even look at her.

I grab Asher by the front of his hoodie, yanking him in before he can so much as breathe. His eyes go wide just before my mouth crashes into his.

He stiffens for half a second—shocked—but then his hands are on me, gripping my waist, pulling me closer, like the tension between us has finally snapped, like he’s been holding back just as much as I have.

I kiss him hard, all teeth and claiming, because I’m done letting him pretend we’re anything less than this.

The bonfire falls into a stunned silence.

Someone whistles. Then another. Then the entire place erupts.

Prunes is screeching, jumping up and down. “Holy shit! That’s right!”

Laughter. Cheers. Hoots from our team.

I don’t give a damn.

I step up onto a log, towering over everyone, my chest heaving, my lips tingling from kissing him.

“Listen up, Sugar River!” My voice rings out, loud and absolute. “Asher is mine. He’s off-limits. Don’t fucking touch him.”

The crowd loses it.

The team is laughing, hyping me up. Someone howls. Someone else shouts, “Zayne’s gone feral!”

I don’t care.

I jump back down, landing in front of Asher. He’s staring at me like he doesn’t know what to do with me. Like he wants to be mad but can’t be.

I grab his wrist, dragging him away from the fire, away from the noise.

“Zayne—”

I spin around the second we’re out of earshot, pressing him against a tree. “Why are you acting like you broke me?”

His throat bobs. “I?—”

“You didn’t.” My voice drops, rough with everything I’ve been feeling. “I can handle you. I want you.” I drag my fingers over his stomach, feeling the tension thrumming beneath his skin. “You think I regret it? That I didn’t like you knotting me?”

His eyes flash, pupils blown wide. His breath comes out sharp. “Zayne?—”

I press in closer, chest to chest. “You don’t get to pull away.” My voice is almost a growl, my magic curling around us like static in the air. “You’re mine, Asher. I’m yours. You don’t get to act like that night didn’t change everything.”

His breath hitches. His fingers twitch like he wants to grab me, wants to take me.

I lean in, mouth brushing his jaw. “So stop acting like you hurt me.” My teeth scrape lightly over his skin, and I feel the way he shudders. “And next time?” My lips curve. “Don’t hold back.”

His restraint snaps.

His hands fist in my hoodie, and then his mouth is on mine again—hot, rough, claiming me back.

Asher’s fingers curl into my hoodie, trying to hold on—but to what? His control? The lie that he can keep his hands off me?

I don’t give him the chance to decide.

I tilt my head, deepening the kiss, pouring everything into it. Need. Frustration. Love—because that’s what this is. It’s not just wanting Asher. It’s loving him. Every grumpy, brooding, stupidly self-sacrificing part of him.

The air around us crackles, my magic thrumming under my skin, a low hum of energy that rises with every second I spend touching him. I feel it build, pressing outward, seeking him, like it can’t help but reach for him.

His lips part on a gasp, and I take it—take him—shoving my hands under his hoodie, finding the heat of his skin.

Electricity zips between us, tiny sparks jumping from my fingertips to his ribs, skimming over his spine. His entire body shudders, and I feel the way he reacts to it, the way my magic winds through him, sinking into his bones.

He growls, low, but he doesn’t push me away.

I press closer, letting my magic unfurl, wrapping around him like invisible threads, dragging him deeper into me. “You want me?” I whisper against his mouth.

He squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head. “You know I do.”

“Then take me.” I drag my mouth along his jaw, my magic pulsing with every word, curling around him like a command. “No more holding back. No more running.”

His grip tightens—so tight I know I’ll feel the bruises later. “I don’t want to hurt you.” His voice is wrecked, torn apart by everything he won’t say.

“You didn’t.” I bite at his pulse, feeling the rapid beat of his heart against my lips. “I want more. I want you always.”

The energy between us spikes, a sudden rush of power that crackles in the air, making the leaves tremble, making the embers of the bonfire in the distance flare. My magic is pushing, pulling, demanding.

He makes a choked sound, like I’ve just ripped something out of him. Then, suddenly, he’s flipping us, slamming me into the tree.

My head spins. My body thrums.

His eyes burn into mine, dark and wild, pupils blown so wide his irises are just a thin ring of color. His chest heaves, like he’s barely keeping it together, like he’s standing at the edge of a cliff and I’m the only thing keeping him from falling.

“You don’t get it.” His voice is low, dangerous. “I need to hold back, Zayne.” His fingers dig into my hips, his grip searing hot against my skin. “If I don’t—” He swallows hard. “I’ll ruin you.”

I smirk, tilting my head. “What if I want to be ruined?”

The moment the words leave my mouth, my magic erupts, a slow, molten pulse that slides over both of us. Sparks dance over my skin, tiny bursts of energy crackling between my fingertips, running down my arms, wrapping around him like invisible chains.

He snaps.

His mouth crashes into mine, crushing, desperate, like he’s trying to consume me, to make sure there’s no space left between us.

I moan into it, grinding against him, feeling the solid press of his body, the heat of his skin. My magic curls around us, sinking into him, wrapping tight, binding.

He lets out a ragged breath, his hands sliding under my hoodie, skimming my stomach, his touch electric. His fingers find my ribs, trace up my chest, and when his thumbs brush my nipples, I gasp.

The energy between us explodes, sending a sharp crack through the air.

All I know is him.

His body against mine. The way he’s touching me. The way he’s taking me, finally, finally, giving in.

My magic pulses, feeding off his energy, dragging him closer, sealing him to me in a way that feels irrevocable.

And I know, without a doubt, that he’s mine, just as much as I’m his.

Forever.

I’m gonna prove it to him.

He’s mine. He didn’t break me. None of him—his strength, his bite, his knot—scared me. I want it all, again and again, until he understands there’s no such thing as too much when it comes to him.

I pull my magic deep into myself, a slow, simmering hum beneath my skin, and I focus it. I let it pool at my fingertips, a pulse of energy that seeks him, that wants to claim him just as much as he’s already claimed me.

I grab his cock through his jeans, fingers closing over the thick length of him, and he groans, hips twitching into my touch like he can’t help himself.

“I want more,” I whisper, watching his reaction. “Questions that need answers. Things I wanna learn.”

“Yes,” he gasps, body already trembling against mine.

My magic curls at his neck, dark and pulsing, waiting for my command. I focus, letting it latch onto his skin, watching as it seeps in, as his breath hitches, as his hands tighten where he grips me.

He hisses, shoulders twitching.

“Shhhh, Asher,” I murmur, sliding my other hand up his chest, feeling his heart hammering beneath my touch. “Just wait.”

His lips crash into mine, desperate, almost wild, but I don’t let myself get lost in it—not yet. I focus on the magic, on the heat where it sears into him, on the way it burrows deep, embedding itself beneath his skin.

My mark.

A magic-born brand of possession.

I break the kiss, still buzzing, and reach up, turning his head so I can see my creation. A slow, satisfied smirk curls at my lips.

He frowns, lifting a hand to touch it. “What did you do?”

“I marked you,” I say simply, feeling my magic hum, thrumming with its claim. “Warlocks don’t have fated mates, so we give mate marks. I want the world to know you’re mine. I want you to know you don’t scare me. That I want everything you have to give.”

His fingers skim the edges, tracing the raised skin, the way my magic still flickers like embers beneath the surface.

“What does it look like?” His voice is quieter now, almost reverent.

I grin. “It’s a Z with little firework-like bursts around it.”

He swallows, fingers still pressing against it. “Feels like a brand.”

“It is, I guess.” I slide my hand back down his chest, letting my fingertips trail his abs, feeling the way his muscles twitch beneath my touch. “I burned you with my magic.”

His head snaps up, eyes going dark, pupils blown. A low, rumbling growl vibrates from his chest, and then his mouth is on me again, all teeth and tongue and possession.

I moan into it, letting him take, letting him claim me right back. My magic flares, responding to him, wrapping around us, sinking into the spaces between.

Then he pulls back, breath ragged, lips wet. “Time to go home, Little Warlock.” His fingers grip my hoodie, tugging me closer. “You have things to learn.” His eyes burn into mine. “And I apparently have questions to answer.”