Rehab for SuperVillains (18+)-Chapter 286: inhaled

Kael inhaled slowly, the air thick in his lungs.

"Then I order you to let me go."

"No."

Kael clenched his jaw, frustration bubbling up. "You’re my maid. You have to obey."

"I’m your maid," Lital replied, calm as ever, "who doesn’t listen to you."

Kael closed his eyes, sighing deeply, the fight draining out of him for the moment as exhaustion settled in.

He didn’t bother resisting this time, his body going slack against hers.

Her shadows pulsed faintly around his limbs, not painful, not threatening.

Just... constant, a gentle hum of restraint that wrapped him in warmth despite the chill they carried.

It wasn’t the kiss or the restraints or the laughter that finally gave it away, piercing through the haze of confusion.

It was the silence that followed, heavy and revealing.

The tension in her embrace, the way her arm clung just a fraction too tightly, like she feared he’d slip away if she loosened even an inch.

And Kael understood, the realization hitting him like a quiet wave.

This wasn’t about power.

Not fully, not at its core.

Something was wrong with her—deep, unspoken.

Lital was clinging to him, her anchor in a world that had shifted under her feet.

Because now that Lila was gone.

She was alone, the fragments of her past self woven together but leaving echoes of isolation.

And Kael... was the only thing left that felt close, the one constant through the chaos of her rehabilitation, the one who had seen her fractures and stayed.

She wasn’t keeping him here to control him, not truly.

She was keeping him here because losing him, too, would break her in the condition she was in—raw, reborn, but still healing from the merge, vulnerable in ways her strength couldn’t shield.

...

"I’ll stay," Kael said at last, his voice quiet, the words hanging in the dim light of the room like a reluctant concession.

Lital didn’t respond immediately, but her grip around him eased just slightly, a subtle release of tension that he felt in the way her arm loosened across his chest.

The bed remained soft beneath him, the sheets warm from their shared heat, her presence a solid, unyielding warmth behind his back.

"But..." he added, his tone careful, testing the waters, "I don’t want the others to worry about me."

There was a long pause, the silence stretching as her breath evened out against his neck.

"So can I call them?" he continued, keeping his voice steady. "Just let them know I’m safe. With you."

"No need for that," Lital said simply, her words casual but final.

A moment later, a tendril of shadow slithered up from the floor in front of him, coiling like a serpent emerging from the depths.

Held in its grasp was his phone, screen facing him, the device hovering just within reach.

The screen lit up on its own, illuminating his face in a soft blue glow.

A message was already typed, hovering on the screen, ready to send to the group chat with Freya, Rhea, and Liss.

"Tila is safe, and I’m with her. I’ll be staying with her for a while. Don’t worry about me, I am fine. Tila still needs me."

Kael blinked, reading it twice.

It wasn’t his phrasing exactly, but it sounded like him—almost too much like him, concise and reassuring in a way that mirrored his usual texts.

He frowned, a crease forming between his brows.

"Why are you being so possessive all of a sudden?" he asked, keeping his tone neutral, probing without accusation.

If he challenged her directly, it would bounce off like water on stone.

But if he opened the conversation, maybe she’d see it, reflect on it.

"I’m not possessive," Lital replied casually, her fingers idly tracing the fabric of his shirt.

Kael exhaled slowly, his voice calm but firm. "Then let’s go over everything you’ve done since you changed."

He lifted a finger, though she couldn’t see it from behind him, counting off as if ticking boxes.

"One, the kiss. That was intense. No warning. You didn’t care what I wanted—or if I was ready."

She didn’t interrupt, her breathing steady against his skin.

"Two. This house. You dragged me here without my consent, yanked me into your shadows and away from everything."

Still silent, her arm unmoving.

"And now this?" He nodded toward the phone, the screen still glowing accusingly. "Writing messages on my behalf so people don’t come looking for me? Keeping me isolated?"

"That’s called being possessive, Lital."

Silence fell, thick and contemplative.

Then—

Lital chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated through her chest into his back.

Kael turned his head slightly, eyeing her over his shoulder as much as the position allowed. "What’s so funny?"

Her voice was smooth, but there was something darker threading through it, a undercurrent of challenge. "Isn’t that how you treated me?"

Kael paused, the words hitting like a subtle jab.

She continued, her voice low, intimate.

"You locked me in that room, remember? That—your little rehab chamber, with the collar. I was just a project then, wasn’t I? Something to fix, to control."

Kael’s chest tightened, memories flashing— the dim lights, the restraints, the sessions where he pushed her boundaries to heal her fractures.

"And last night," she whispered, her breath brushing his ear like a secret, "weren’t you the one spooning me? Holding me just like this, your arm around me, keeping me close?"

She shifted slightly, drawing him closer, her body aligning perfectly with his, the warmth seeping through.

"So... were you being possessive of me?"

Kael swallowed hard, the parallel stinging. He didn’t answer immediately, his mind racing through justifications, differences.

Because she wasn’t wrong—not entirely.

"...That was different," he said eventually, the words weak even to his own ears, lacking the conviction he wished they had.

Another laugh from Lital—this one soft, almost kind, lacking malice but carrying understanding.

"I’m just teasing," she said, voice airy, lightening the moment as if to diffuse the tension.

But her arm didn’t relax, didn’t pull away.

In fact, her grip tightened subtly, fingers curling into his shirt.

Then her voice dropped—serious, intimate, laced with a vulnerability she rarely showed.

"But yes. I am being possessive of you."