Rehab for SuperVillains (18+)-Chapter 6: Let it go

The Haven's silence was a chokehold as Kael eased Rhea's door open, the creak of hinges slicing the stillness like a blade. Morning light clawed through the boarded slits, painting jagged shadows on the gray tiles. Rhea prowled her cage—crimson hair a wild snarl, ash-streaked and spilling over her creased leather jacket. The collar hummed, a dull shackle on her fire, but her amber eyes flicked to him—wary, not venomous, a crack in her armor widening since yesterday's storm.

"You're back," she rasped, voice raw, like she'd wrestled nightmares all night. She stopped pacing, boots planted, scarred hands flexing—ready to fight or fall, she wasn't sure.

Kael leaned against the doorframe, coin flipping lazily between his fingers, hazel eyes pinning her with quiet certainty. "You're ready to talk," he said, stepping closer, the coin's rhythm a heartbeat against his words.

Rhea's lips twitched—a snarl that didn't ignite. "Ready? You think you've got me cracked open?" Her tone was sharp but tired, curiosity clawing through the edges.

"Not yet," he said, blunt, closing the gap until his cedar scent brushed her senses. "But I see it. You burned everything because you couldn't touch the real wound." His words struck—contained, lethal—and she flinched, grief slashing across her scarred face like a fresh cut. Her amber eyes tightened, but she didn't snap, didn't bury it.

He pressed harder, voice relentless. "That's why you torch and rage—a loss you can't burn out. Who was it, Rhea? Tell me, or I'll rip it free."

Her fists clenched, scars stark against flushed skin, knuckles whitening. Silence snapped taut, electric—she was daring him again, but it wasn't just defiance now. "You don't know shit," she muttered, a reflex with no bite.

"Last chance," he warned, his hand hovering near her arm—close enough to feel its weight. Her breath hitched, amber eyes locked on his, daring him to cross the line. He did. His fingers pressed her elbow—light, probing—and his Empathic Resonance roared to life.

No soft intro this time. He wove a brutal thread—pain and pleasure twisted tight. A sharp sting ripped along her scars, embers biting flesh, then melted into a warm pulse sinking deep. Rhea gasped, stumbling back, knees buckling as the cot caught her. She hit it hard, legs splayed, breaths ragged. He stepped between her knees, trapping her, his hand sliding to her wrist—firm, pinning her lightly.

"Feel it," he murmured, voice gravel-low. "That's what's eating you." He eased the pain, letting pleasure coil—slow, searing, flushing her skin, curling low. A raw sound tore from her throat—half-growl, half-whimper—before she could kill it.

Her body betrayed her, arching under his grip, scarred fingers twitching against the cot. "Get... off," she rasped, but it drowned in the shiver racking her frame. Kael's hazel eyes glinted, tracking every fracture. "Not yet," he said, brushing her other arm, stoking the heat—a throb that clenched her thighs, parted her lips in a silent gasp.

He leaned in, breath grazing her ear. "Who left you like this?" His grip tightened, spiking the sensation—pain flashing bright, then melting into relentless warmth. Her head tipped back, crimson hair spilling, and she clutched his arm—holding, not fighting—as the wave crashed.

"Kael..." she breathed, raw, unguarded, amber eyes flickering on the edge. Sweat gleamed on her neck, scars flushed crimson. He pulled back—sharp, sudden—resonance fading, leaving her sprawled, chest heaving, dazed.

"Tomorrow, you talk," he said, voice rougher than he meant, turning for the door. The coin flipped once as he stepped out, the lock clicking shut.

Rhea gripped the cot, amber eyes blazing—fury, yes, but laced with a hotter storm. Her skin hummed where he'd been, grief and want tangling tight. Who was he to unravel her like this?

The next morning.

Rhea was pacing again, her boots scuffing a rhythm into the tiles, the collar glinting under the dim light. He stepped in, no preamble, no distance—close enough that the sharp cedar scent of him cut through the stale air. "You're thinking about him," he said, reading the tightness in her jaw, the way her eyes flickered with something old and heavy.

She froze, mid-step, then nodded, voice taut as wire. "Every damn day." Her amber gaze met his, steady but brittle. "My brother."

Kael didn't flinch, didn't soften—just held her stare, letting the weight settle. "Grief's the root, then," he said, stepping closer still. "What you've been feeding the fire. Tell me what you'd say to him."

Rhea's breath hitched, her scarred hands curling into fists. She hesitated, lips parting, then whispered, "I'm sorry I couldn't save you." Her voice broke on the last word, a crack splitting through her armor, and her amber eyes glistened—wet, burning, raw.

He didn't judge, didn't offer pity—just stepped in, a solid presence against her unraveling. "Good," he said, voice steady, grounding. "Let it out." His hand found her shoulder, fingers pressing into the scarred skin through her jacket, and his resonance surged—cold for him, a flood for her.

He amplified the ache first—grief turned physical, a dull throb radiating from his touch, sinking into her chest like a stone. She stiffened, a choked sound catching in her throat, her hands clenching tighter. Then he shifted it—easing the pain into warmth, a slow melt that loosened the knot in her ribs. Her breath shuddered, ragged, as the sensation morphed again—warmth blooming into pleasure, invasive and deep.

His hand slid to her neck, fingers brushing just above the collar, and he dialed it up—sharp, piercing arousal that cut through the haze. Her chest tightened, then released, a gasp tearing free as the pleasure spiked—hot, unrelenting, racing down her spine. She grabbed his arm, scarred fingers digging in—not to stop him, but to hold on, her eyes wet but fierce, locked on his.

"Let it go," he murmured, his voice a low anchor in the storm he'd unleashed. The sensation pulsed—her skin flushed, her thighs clenched, a shudder rippling through her as grief and want tangled into something she couldn't untie. Tears streaked her face, carving paths through the ash-streaked scars, but her breath was ragged with more than pain now—need, sharp and undeniable.

Kael stepped back, his hand falling away, the resonance fading. She swayed, unsteady, tears glistening on her cheeks as she fought to catch her breath. Her crimson hair stuck to her neck, her body still thrumming with the afterglow—grief's echo and arousal's bite woven tight. He watched her, hazel eyes dark but steady, voice rough when he spoke. "Good. You're getting there."

She didn't look away as he turned for the door—just wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, her gaze burning through the blur. The lock clicked, and she sank onto the cot, knees weak, her scarred fingers tracing her shoulder where he'd been. The grief was still there—her brother, the fire, the failure—but it wasn't alone anymore. Something else flickered beside it, warm and dangerous, pulling at her edges.

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Kael stood in the main room, cedar scent lingering on his sleeve, the coin forgotten on the desk. Rhea was a wildfire—chaotic, searing, but bending now, inch by inch. He'd tested her limits today—her control, her pain—and found the threads he needed. First, restraint: she'd fought the pleasure, lost it, but tried. Then, grief: she'd named it, faced it, and he'd turned it into something she could feel beyond rage.

It was like a crucible—pleasure to test her, grief to break her open, arousal to reforge her. She was close now, teetering on a ledge he'd built. One more push, and she'd either hold—or fall into his hands entirely.

Rhea lay back on the cot, staring at the ceiling, her breath steadying but her pulse still uneven. The tears had dried, leaving salt on her skin, but the warmth lingered—his touch, his voice, the way he'd pulled her apart and left her raw. She'd burned for her brother, for the guilt, but Kael was twisting it—making her feel past it, through it. She didn't know if she hated him or needed him, but the fight was slipping, and something new was rising in its place.