Rhea jolted awake from her nightmare.
Ach Ack Ack!
Choking hard, her throat raw as if she'd swallowed ash, gasping for air that wouldn't come fast enough. Her face dripped wet—tears streaking hot down her cheeks, shed in sleep she couldn't recall—and her chest heaved wild, a storm of emotions crashing through her: sadness sharp as a blade, anger boiling red, annoyance gnawing tight, grief heavy as stone.
She stumbled to her feet, legs shaky under the loose shirt, her brain throbbing like it might split open, pain pulsing fierce behind her eyes.
Normally, she'd bolt outside—find the first living thing, human or not, and burn it to cinders, then another, then more, letting blood and fire drown the memories until they sank back into the dark.
Killing calmed her, slow and steady, a ritual to keep the memory buried. But now her hands flexed useless, the collar around her neck a cold shackle, its tech humming faint as it choked her flames, leaving her powerless, trapped.
She clawed at it, fingers digging desperate into the metal, tugging hard enough to carve red welts into her skin, her nails scraping as she growled low, a rabid edge to the sound.
The collar didn't budge—unyielding, mocking—and the flashes in her mind flared brighter: a boy's grin, eyes like hers, hair like hers, then gone. Her breath hitched, rage surging hot, and she slammed her forehead into the wall
thud thud
—once, twice—the thud echoing dull as plaster cracked, pain blooming sharp but not enough to quiet the storm. Footsteps pounded outside, the door banging open, and Kael rushed in, his boots skidding to a stop as he froze, hazel eyes wide at the sight of her—hair wild, face tear-streaked, blood trickling from a split on her brow.
"What happened, Rhea? What's wrong?" he asked, voice thick with worry as he lunged forward, arms wrapping tight around her to yank her back from the wall.
His grip was firm, warm against her trembling frame, but she wasn't there—not really. Strength surged from somewhere deep, feral and raw, and she thrashed against him, elbows jabbing wild, her body a live wire he couldn't hold.
"Calm down, Rhea, calm down," he chanted, low and urgent, a mantra meant to anchor her, but it bounced off—her ears rang with a child's cry she couldn't place, fire crackling loud in her ear drums like it was eating her skull, drowning him out. She barely registered the figure beside her—only the haze, the noise, the need to break free.
Her next move came fast—a wild twist, a shove with all her weight—and Kael flew back, crashing onto the cot with a grunt, the frame groaning as he bounced once and hit the floor hard, a loud thud shaking the room.
He scrambled up, wincing as his elbow cracked against the tiles, and locked eyes with her—dark, hazed amber staring back, pupils blown wide, a predator's glare that sent a shiver ripping down his spine.
Her powers were locked, he knew that, but her face—snarling, unhinged—screamed murder, and his gut twisted cold, instinct screaming she'd tear him apart if he didn't act fast.
"Rhea, listen to me—snap out of it!" he shouted, voice rough as he edged back, but she pounced—hands clawing air, body lunging low—and he dodged by a hair, rolling onto the cot and vaulting to the other side, boots slipping as he dashed for the door.
He grabbed the handle, yanking it shut behind him, but her palms slammed the wood—hard, splintering—before he could lock it, her strength surging wild as she pushed back, the hinges groaning loud.
Kael braced his shoulder against it, muscles straining, sweat beading on his brow as the door bucked under her force, her growls seeping through like a beast unleashed. His heart pounded—fear spiking sharp—because something primal told him if she got through, he was dead, collar or not.
"Rhea, stop—!" he yelled, voice cracking desperate, but the door jolted again, wood creaking as her fists hammered relentless, overpowering him inch by inch. He had to wake her, knock her out—anything—or he wouldn't make it out alive.
One final shove—she roared, a sound that rattled his bones—and the door burst open, flinging him back into the main room. He stumbled, catching himself on the table's edge.
Rhea stormed through, eyes locked on him, a guttural growl ripping from her throat. She lunged—fingers curled like claws, aiming for his neck—and he ducked low, pivoting fast, fist swinging up in a blur.
His knuckles cracked against her cheek, a solid hit that snapped her head right, blood smearing from her lip as she staggered, but she turned back slow, unfazed, her haze unbroken, amber glinting wilder. He cursed—breath short, panic flaring—but before she could lunge again, he grabbed her shoulders, yanked and pinned her to the wall beside, and crashed his lips into hers, hard and reckless.
Her mouth parted—dry, trembling—and he pushed deeper, tongue sliding past her teeth, warm and slick as it tangled with hers, a messy, urgent press that flooded her senses.
She froze—stiff, feral—then softened, her lips twitching as she sucked back, hesitant at first, her tongue brushing his, tasting salt and heat. He poured everything into it—empathic resonance pulsing through his touch, amplifying every sensation, a wild shot to drag her back—and it worked, her growl fading to a whimper as she melted against him, hands unclenching, sliding up his chest.
The kiss shifted—rough edges smoothing, strokes deepening—her tongue dancing slow with his, wet and warm, lips molding tight as she sucked harder, a hungry edge to it that sent heat pooling low in his gut.
Her breath steadied—hot against his mouth, syncing with his rhythm—and they stayed locked like that, lips bruising, tongues curling, until the fire in her mind dulled to embers, her eyes fluttering shut as the haze lifted, leaving her raw and bare.