Page 51 of The Butterfly Killer

He turned to the bed that smelled like death and sat on the edge, facing away from Roman. He ate his food slowly, savoring it even though it didn't taste good at all. He pretended he was eating his favorite curry, however, there was only so much suspended disbelief could do in this situation.

He was halfway through his bowl when Roman interrupted the serene silence with his annoying voice.

"I'll set up the tub. You stink."

Marcus gritted his teeth. His hand clenched on the spoon. He knew he stank. He didn't feel good about it either. His hair was greasy and his clothes smelled like death. That was all well and fine, but Roman pointing it out made him not want to take a bath even though he desperately wanted to.

Instead of arguing, he talked back to Roman in his head as he finished his rice. He shoveled each bite in more aggressively than what was necessary. He probably looked crazy the way he glared at the bed and chomped on the rice like it had personally offended him.

Roman got up and put on a large pot of water. Marcus had no idea where this "tub" Roman spoke of was. He glanced around the room, searching for the thing, but he didn't see how there could be more stuff stored away in this small cabin.

As the water boiled, Roman left outside. He didn't bundle up like he usually did and he wasn't gone for more than a couple minutes.

He came back with the infamous tub. He dragged it in though it wasn't that big. It was only wide enough for someone to stand or crouch in it.

Marcus slowly chewed the food in his mouth as he watched Roman dump the now boiling water into the tub. He topped the water off with cold water before leaving the pot on the stove. He gathered a towel and a change of clothes from the chest behind the sitting chair.

He looked at Marcus expectantly.

"I'mnotgetting in there." He made a disgusted face at the tub.

"So you're fine pissing off the porch but not bathing?"

Marcus threw the bowl onto the ground. It shattered and bits of rice flew all over the ground. The spoon clattered and landed somewhere he couldn't see. Roman raised a brow as he looked at the broken bowl.

"You're cleaning that up after we're done."

"I'm not fucking getting in that thing!" He didn't care if he pissed off the porch or that Roman had seen his junk. He was sick of Roman acting like this was all normal.

If this was some twisted way to get inside Marcus's head, to inflict Stockholm Syndrome on him, it wasn't going to work.

The almost normal look on Roman's face fell away. His eyes darkened and the corners of his mouth dipped down. Those few actions changed his face drastically. He dropped the clothes onto the chair and moved toward the bed.

"No. No!" Marcus scrambled back as Roman came after him.

He jumped off the bed on the opposite side.

Roman went around as Marcus looked for an escape. He was too slow as he climbed over the mattress again. Roman grabbed his good leg and yanked him back. Marcus flipped on his back and punched blindly. Roman slapped his arms away like theywere annoying flies and nothing more. When that didn't work, Marcus flipped onto his belly and grabbed onto the bed.

Roman put his hands on Marcus's waist and tugged. Marcus clenched his fingers onto the metal frame. With each tug, Roman pulled both Marcus and the bed to the side. Roman grunted and gave one last yank that almost pulled Marcus's arms out of their sockets. His knuckles went white with how hard he was clenching, but he still didn't let go.

Roman dropped him with a heave. He grunted as he was let go on the bed. He still held onto the frame.

He glanced behind to see if Roman had given up completely. He should have known better.

Roman attacked him with wiggling fingers that slid under his shirt. The fingers tickled his sides and ran up and down his sensitive flesh.

Marcus's couldn't stop the abrupt laughter the fingers pulled out of him. He wiggled on the bed to get away from the hands giving him as much pain as breaking his leg had done.

In his struggle, he let go of the bed frame. That was all Roman needed to pull him toward him and haul him up from the mattress. Marcus's laughter abruptly died as he realized he was now being shoved toward the tub of water.

He threw elbows as Roman pushed him, but Roman had a good hold on him that was helped by Marcus's bad leg. He eventually had no choice but to go along with the man. He glared at the steaming water though he hated to admit that it looked nice. If Roman wasn't here and wasn't forcing him into it, he would have gone on his own volition.

He did smell like shit and he didn't feel good because of it.

"Strip."

Marcus's anger swelled up again at the command. He stood there even when Roman let him go. He crossed his arms over his chest, still glaring at the water.

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