Page 22 of Forbidden Mischief

ZAYNE

The sunlight filters through the open windows as I lean against the doorframe, watching Asher struggle to figure out the ancient-looking juicer my dad refuses to get rid of.

His broad shoulders shift, muscles flexing beneath his fitted t-shirt.

The sight is almost enough to make me forget the pathetic groan of the machine as it sputters in protest.

“Zayne, is this thing cursed?” he grumbles, slamming the top of the juicer down with a little too much force. His wolfish ears might not be visible, but the irritation flickers across his face clear as day.

I bite back a grin. “It’s not cursed, just old. How’d you know I was here?”

His sharp glare softens the second our eyes meet. "Your magic always leaves this... trace. And besides, I could hear the way your heartbeat changed when you saw me."

I step in, brushing his hand with mine as I gently adjust the juicer’s settings, making sure everything clicks into place. "At least one of us knows how to work a juicer," I tease, enjoying the slight tension that builds between us.

He watches me, his amber eyes glowing faintly, the quiet admiration in his gaze always stealing my breath. Even after him marking me twice, being Asher’s mate still feels like magic in itself.

“So,” he starts, leaning against the counter as the juicer hums to life, “I was thinking we could have that proper date today.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You mean just the two of us? No Harley? No Prudence?”

“Nope. Just me and you,” he retorts, leaning closer and kissing me softly.

“Alright. Where are we going, then?” I say smugly, enjoying the way he narrows his eyes at all my questions.

He chuckles, the corners of his mouth curving into a grin that makes his dimples appear—a rare, endearing sight. “It’s a surprise. But dress comfortably.”

The winding forest road opens up to a sunlit meadow, the tall grass swaying lazily in the breeze. Asher rolls down the windows, letting the fresh air fill the car. The earthy scent of the trees mingles with the faintest trace of rain from last night’s storm.

“So, what’s this all about?” I ask, glancing over at him. There’s a mischievous glint in his amber eyes as he keeps his focus on the road.

“Patience,” he says with a grin, his voice low and smooth. “You’ll see soon enough.”

I raise an eyebrow, intrigued, but not wanting to push for answers.

When he turns off the main road and heads toward town, I sit up a little straighter. “This isn’t a camping trip, is it?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Not this time. Trust me, I’ve got something way better planned.”

My curiosity peaks as we drive into town, and the car eventually pulls into a parking lot with a glowing sign that reads Rider’s Alley: Bowling and Games .

I can’t help the laugh that escapes me. “No way. You’re kidding, right?”

His eyes glint with that devil-may-care sparkle I’ve come to love. “What? You don’t think I can be fun?”

“I think you’re all business, usually,” I tease, eyeing the neon lights of the bowling alley. “But, alright. I’m game.”

Asher grins, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he opens the door and steps out. “You’ll see. I’ve got a few surprises up my sleeve.”

We walk into the alley, the familiar sounds of bowling balls rolling, pins clattering, and cheerful laughter filling the air. The scent of fresh popcorn mixes with the faint rubbery smell of the lanes. I follow him up to the counter where a worker smiles at us.

“Shoes, please,” Asher says, his voice light but confident as he leans on the counter.

I glance at him, a playful smile tugging at my lips. “I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to beat you at this,” I say, nudging him with my shoulder.

He shoots me a sly grin, his eyes gleaming. “You think so?”

I grin back, feeling that familiar rush of competitive energy. “I know so.”

The competition is lighthearted, with me pretending to struggle as he gets strike after strike. I make exaggerated efforts with my throws, barely managing to hit a few pins. Asher, on the other hand, doesn’t miss a beat, effortlessly sinking his ball into the perfect spot.

“You’re showing off,” I tease, sticking my tongue out at him.

“Just proving a point,” he responds with a smirk, his eyes following me as I take my turn. “But go ahead, impress me.”

I try to focus, determined to at least match his moves. But every time I look over, his grin has this dangerous charm, distracting me just enough to miss my shot.

When I finally score a half-decent turn, I throw my hands in the air. “Victory!” I shout, earning a laugh from him.

“You’re cute when you’re excited,” he murmurs, his gaze lingering on me with that intense warmth. “Did you cheat your way into winning with magic?”

I roll my eyes. “Don’t flatter me. And I would never!” I fake being appalled.

As we finish our game, I glance at him with a mischievous smile. “Alright, so what’s next, Mister Surprise Planner?”

“Follow me,” he says, his tone suddenly turning serious in a way that sends a shiver of anticipation down my spine. He pulls me toward the Laser Tag Arena inside the bowling alley, and I can’t help but laugh.

“You’re determined to wear me out, aren’t you?”

“Only if you’re up for the challenge,” he says with a wink.

We’re handed our laser guns and told to wait as the arena’s lights flicker on, painting the space in neon blues, greens, and purples. The music thuds in the background, making the atmosphere electric.

“I’m not going easy on you,” I tell him, sliding the vest over my shoulders, trying to hide the grin tugging at my lips.

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” he replies, that familiar smirk of his that tugs at the corners of his mouth, making my heart race in all the right ways.

The game begins, and we’re off, darting through the maze of glowing obstacles and tight corners. I’m determined, focused, but Asher’s always one step ahead. His movements are sleek, strategic, like he’s spent years perfecting this, and it’s driving me crazy.

“Gotcha!” I call out when I finally land a shot on him.

“Not bad,” he calls back, ducking behind a pillar as I try to track him down. “But I’m still winning.”

We dart around the arena, running, hiding, and aiming for each other in a game of cat and mouse that keeps me on edge. His precision with the gun is impressive, and for a second, I almost doubt my chances. Almost.

But then, a mischievous thought crosses my mind, and I decide to level the playing field. A subtle flick of my fingers beneath the safety of my vest, and I channel a little of my magic—just enough to give myself an edge without him noticing.

The next few minutes are a blur. I’m faster, sharper, my movements undetectable as I anticipate his every move. He’s still good—hell, he’s amazing—but now I’m always one step ahead, landing shot after shot.

“Gotcha!” I call again, a little louder this time, finally taking him down for the count.

Asher stops, blinking in surprise. “What the hell?” he mutters, glancing at me. I see the flicker of realization in his eyes, but he says nothing.

The game ends, and we both collapse against the wall, out of breath and laughing. My chest is heaving, the exhilaration of the win still buzzing through me.

“You’re good at this,” I say, flashing him a breathless smile, a smug satisfaction curling in my chest. “I told you I’d beat you.”

Asher shoots me a knowing look, his golden eyes soft but filled with a mix of admiration and mild annoyance. “You cheated, didn’t you?”

I raise my hands innocently. “Me? Cheat? Never.”

“Uh-huh.” His smirk returns, but this time, it’s accompanied by a laugh. “You’re lucky I love you.”

The words hit me like a shockwave. My heart stutters in my chest, and I freeze for a second, unable to speak. I’m staring at him, wondering if he truly meant it or if it was just a casual phrase, the kind people say without thinking.

Did he just say he loves me?

The world feels like it’s slowing down. I swallow, unsure of how to respond, my mind racing.

We've never said those words before. Never even come close.

I always thought we were in this place where things were…

not tentative, but maybe unspoken. But now, the weight of his words lingers in the air between us.

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. My heart beats faster, suddenly aware of how much I want those words to be true, how much I want him to feel the same way I do.

Asher’s eyes flick to me, narrowing slightly, as if he’s waiting for something. A reaction. A confirmation. And for a moment, I wonder if he knows exactly how much those words have shaken me.

“You know,” I finally say, voice barely above a whisper, “I think I’m pretty lucky, too.”

The weight of the moment lingers between us, but the sound of the bustling crowd outside the arena pulls me from the daze. Asher’s gaze softens, and after a beat, he stands, offering me a hand.

“Come on, I’ve got something else planned,” he says, the playful spark returning to his eyes.

Without another word, he leads me outside, guiding us through the cool evening air. The city hums around us, but soon the noise fades, replaced by the gentle rustling of leaves as we drive to a nearby park.

Asher parks the car and steps out, moving around to the trunk. He pulls out a blanket and a picnic basket, flashing me a grin. “Come on,” he says, nodding for me to follow.

He leads me down a narrow, grassy path to a quiet spot by a pond, nestled between two weeping willow trees. The sky has darkened, the first stars just beginning to twinkle above us.

Asher unfurls the blanket on the grass, his movements easy, confident, and steady. We settle down close together, the soft hum of the town fading into the background, leaving only the sound of our breathing and the quiet intimacy between us.

I lean against him, feeling his arm naturally wrap around me. The night feels perfect. We’ve shared laughs, playful competition, and now this—a quiet, intimate moment where nothing matters but being here, together.

I can’t help but notice the small basket Asher had packed, the subtle aroma of fresh bread and cheese mingling with the night air.

He’d thoughtfully picked up a selection of deli meats, fruit, and a few chocolate-covered strawberries.

We eat in contented silence, savoring each bite, the kind of easy, comfortable quiet that only deepens as the night goes on.

“You know,” he starts, his voice low and thoughtful, “I think I might actually be having more fun than I thought I would.”

“I’m glad,” I reply, my heart softening as I look up at him. “This was a good idea. You were right.”

He looks down at me, that same intensity in his eyes. “I’m always right when it comes to you.”

I smile, my fingers brushing against his hand. “You’re perfect, you know that?”

He leans in, brushing his lips against mine in a kiss that’s slow and tender, the kind of kiss that feels like the world has slowed down just for us. His hand finds my waist, pulling me closer, and the moment feels like it’s stretched out in time, just for the two of us.

“You make me feel like the luckiest guy alive,” he whispers against my lips.

I pull him in for another kiss, knowing that, with him, I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.

After a few more minutes of silence, we begin to gather the remnants of our meal, packing everything back into the basket.

The moon is now fully risen, casting a silvery glow over the park, and the soft crunch of the grass beneath our feet accompanies us as we stand and make our way toward the park’s exit.

We walk hand in hand through the town square. The moon is high in the sky, painting it in swirls of yellow and indigo. Asher’s thumb lazily strokes over my knuckles, and I catch the faintest trace of a contented smile on his lips.

It’s the kind of peaceful happiness I’d do anything to protect.

But then, the atmosphere shifts. The sound of low, murmured voices drifts from the group approaching us. I can feel Asher’s body stiffen next to me, his eyes narrowing, his expression darkening before I even hear the words.

“Well, well. If it isn’t Asher.”

Three males stand before us, their broad shoulders and bitter glares cutting through the air. The scent of hostility clings to them like a shadow. Wolves.

My old pack. We went to school together, he speaks in my mind.

“Didn’t think we’d ever see you again,” one of them sneers, his lip curling in that familiar expression of contempt. “But then again, you always were full of surprises.”

Asher doesn’t respond right away, his eyes flicking briefly to me before he murmurs, “Let’s keep walking.” His voice is low, controlled, but I can hear the edge of something there—something like fear, or maybe anger.

I glance at him, unsure, but he doesn’t seem to want to engage. Still, the guys aren’t done.

“Guess it makes sense now,” another one says, his voice dripping with disdain. “You were never much of an alpha. No wonder you ran off and settled for… that.” His gaze sweeps over me, clearly disgusted, as if I’m somehow the cause of all Asher’s failures.

Something inside me snaps, a hot surge of protectiveness for Asher coursing through my veins.

I can feel the pulse of my magic under my skin, ready to flare.

But it’s not just that—it's the look on Asher’s face that makes my blood boil.

He’s trying to hide it, but I see the weight of their words pressing down on him, shaming him.

“Say another word,” I growl, stepping forward, my voice low and threatening. The air around us thickens, crackling with energy, and I can almost feel the weight of my own power.

The man falters for a moment, his smirk dropping.

“Zayne,” Asher says quietly, his voice strained, but I’m not backing down.

“You don’t get to talk to him like that,” I snap, stepping closer. “You think your hatred and your narrow-mindedness make you stronger? Newsflash: it doesn’t. But love ? Love is strength. And Asher has more of it than any of you ever will.”

The silence that follows is deafening. The wolves exchange uneasy glances, clearly caught off guard by my words, and their bravado begins to crack. They’re used to intimidating, to pushing people down. They’re not used to being challenged.

Without another word, they turn away, their shoulders stiff with barely contained rage. But I don’t care. Asher’s eyes are wide, full of something that makes my chest tighten.

“You stood up for me,” he whispers, his voice trembling with disbelief.

I cup his face in my hands, brushing my thumbs along his jaw gently. “Of course I did. I’ll always stand up for you.”

He smiles, a soft, radiant thing, and when he leans in to kiss me, it’s like the whole world melts away. The tension, the anger, the weight of the past—all of it disappears in that kiss. All that matters is us, right here, right now.

And that? That’s all we need.