Page 91 of Use Me Up

Anyway, then Ellis left anyway.

And now, here we are.

Ellis is chewing, looking glum and miserable.

Kane reaches over and rubs his shoulder. “You’re too hard on yourself, omega.”

“In some ways,” says Ellis. “But I think in others, I’m not hard enough.”

Kane shrugs. “I don’t know, Ellis. You’re being hard on yourself because you fucked a willing girl who was throwing herself at you, halfway into heat, who you have a complicated past with, and who was your first love? I mean, who wouldn’t fuck that?”

I glare at Kane. Not helping, in my opinion.

Ellis looks him over.

“Kane, you could talk an angel into sin,” I say.

He snickers. “Yeah, I could.” He likes the fact his name is a homophone for Cain, he’s said. He thinks it’s edgy. Maybe he and Ellis deserve each other.

Ellis gestures with his fork at Kane. “There’s some element of that there. You and I are similar in that way, Kane. You and me, we both will pick pleasure, even if the pleasure is inconvenient or if other people think that the pleasure is immoral. We’ll choose it, anyway. We like to have fun, both of us do.”

Kane nods. “Well, fuck yes. Everyone likes to have fun.”

“But Ellis likes to suffer,” I say.

“I don’t like to suffer,” says Ellis, shaking his head. “That’s the wrong word. It’s not pleasure, it’s pain, obviously, it’s just… I find pain compelling. I want it. Sometimes, I want to hurt.”

I shake my head at him, not even understanding that.

Kane laughs, as if Ellis is crazy. “You do not. You do not want to hurt. You say things like this about yourself, and I just wonder if you’re listening to yourself.”

“No, he’s right,” I say. “He does. He chooses to do the thing that will hurt him and hurt others. Why?”

Ellis lifts his shoulders. “For the same reason Kane picks pleasure, even if there’s going to be consequences. It’s just… looking to feel intensity.”

“Sensory seeking,” I mutter. “You’re a fucking omega. Sometimes you like rough sex, and sometimes you go out and destroy things just to see what happens.”

“Shoot a man in Reno to watch him die,” says Ellis, nodding.

“You ever killed someone, omega?” Kane’s voice is low and resonant.

“No,” says Ellis, like that’s crazy.

“If you did, we’re still bonded, you know,” says Kane. “We’re all in, and you know it.” He glances at me, and damned if I am not full of the absolute knowledge that I would help Ellis bury the body. Fuck.

Ellis shakes his head at Kane. “Johnny Cash never shot anyone in Reno, okay, but he wrote that song. There are certain kinds of people who know about that intensity, okay? Artists and omegas and people with borderline personality disorder and alphas, too, I guess. I don’t know.” He pushes his plate away. “Maybe everyone has moments of it, moments where they light shit on fire just to watch the flames.”

“Well,” I say, “you do that too often, all you have left is ashes.”

“I know,” says Ellis. “But how do I stop?”

I take a deep breath. “Look, I know you were really resistant to therapy, but—”

“No,” he mutters. He gets up from his chair. He’s tall and dark and this perfect mix of masculine and feminine beauty. He moves like liquid as he comes over to me. He touches my face. “I know you’re just looking out for me, Gatlin. I appreciate it.” He kisses me.

I remember when he was around all the time, when I got kisses like this from him twenty times a day. I miss that, even as I am remembering everything exasperating about this man.

He takes his plate out to the kitchen and then comes over for Kane’s, saying that he’ll clean up since Kane cooked, and Kane and I say that he is just barely over his heat, and to sit down on the couch and relax.