Page 50 of The Butterfly Killer

Now, he only had to wait.

He turned and almost jumped out of his skin when Roman was standing right behind him.

"Jesus, fuck!" He slapped a hand over his chest as he caught his breath.

He glared at the man. "Why the fuck are you creeping behind me?"

Roman moved toward him. He reached around to grab something on the counter. He got so close to Marcus that he caged him in. Marcus held still as he slowly turned his head to see what Roman was reaching for.

It was a small paring knife he hadn't noticed. Roman grabbed it, but he didn't step back. Marcus's heart picked up pace as he wondered why Roman needed the damn thing so bad he had to get up into his space.

"I can make you something to eat."

He said it as if it wasn't a bother at all. Or that he was beingniceabout the offer.As if the offer didn't come with a string attached.

Marcus narrowed his eyes. "I don't need your help."

He turned around because he couldn't stand to face Roman. But that meant he was leaving his back exposed. The hair on the back of his neck rose as he sensed danger.

Roman placed both hands on the counter on either side of Marcus. His left hand still held the paring knife.

Marcus tensed as he felt Roman's body heat. He was so close that if Marcus even moved a centimeter back, they would touch.

"I can tell you're getting lonely."

Marcus's eyes widened. He stared at the pot of rice. It was starting to simmer.

Roman inched closer. His chest touched Marcus's back. His warmth spread like a virus. "It's going to drive you mad."

Marcus couldn't speak. He couldn't even begin to think what Roman meant. Was this about the game? Was Roman angry Marcus was ignoring him? That must be it.

"I'm fine," Marcus bit out. The truth was that he was almost at his breaking point. There was only so much reading he could do to escape. He was used to being busy. Being trapped here might have well been his own personal hell.

Heneededchaos and orders to follow to function.

But he wasn't going to fall for whatever mind games this was. Roman could go fuck himself if he thought Marcus was going to break so easily.

The rice water bubbled and boiled until there was barely any left.

"Can you move? I need to season my rice and I can't do it with you breathing down my neck." He glared at the rice, chanting in his head for Roman to get the fuck away from him.

Roman didn't move at first. His hot breath billowed against Marcus's neck, but he refused to let it affect him. He ignored Roman, acting as if the man wasn't there at all.

But it was a relief when Roman finally listened. He stepped back, taking the knife with him for whatever purpose that Marcus didn't want to know.

Marcus's tense shoulders dropped. He seasoned his rice with a little more peace than before. He hurried though because he didn't want Roman getting into his space again. Or worse, trying to convince him to play or tolerate his presence.

It seemed more like Roman was the one going crazy in this shit-hole without human interaction.

He laughed to himself at the thought of Roman going insane enough for Marcus to escape. That would be ironic.

He hobbled back to the chair with his food and had every intention of sitting in it, but that was quickly dashed whenRoman slumped into the chair Marcus had started to refer to his in his head.

Marcus came to a halt.

Roman looked up from his book—the oneMarcushad been reading.

Roman put on an oblivious look, but there was a tinge of a smirk that was unmistakeable. Marcus's hand tightened on the bowl.

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