Page 58 of The Butterfly Killer

Marcus didn’t feel sorry for Roman though. He didn’t think he’d care if Roman got hurt or died. Imagining it now gave him glee and relief.

However, being locked up in a cabin with nothing to occupy his mind was taking a toll on him. He yearned for human interaction so much that it had morphed into arousal and lust. It was like his body had decided that if he didn’t want to emotionally connect with Roman, it would force him to connect on a physical level.

He almost forgot Roman was at the front door until Marcus heard his boots thudding on the ground.

He went still though Roman hadn’t made any indication he was going to force Marcus out from under the bed. It would be easy for the man to flip the bed over and grab him. Really, Roman could do anything to him if he wanted.

Marcus’s face flushed at the statement. His mind was really fucked if he thoughtthatwas sexy.

He heart sped up as Roman walked toward the bed. His hands balled into fists, his heart now pounded in his chest as he watched Roman’s shoes get closer and closer?—

Roman walked right on by as if Marcus wasn’t there at all.

Something that simmered like anger rose within him. His face scrunched. Before he could think twice, he crawled from under the bed. It was a struggle to wedge himself from under the frame, but when he did, he immediately regretted it.

Roman turned on his heels.

Marcus could have stepped back. He could have scrambled to hide under the bed again, but he was done running like a scared dog with its tail between its legs.

His feet didn’t stop even though he thought he might piss himself when Roman stared down at him like he was one of the many bugs he pinned on the daily.

He held his head high as he met Roman’s eyes.

“I’m a person.”

The words were a mouthful. It was a struggle to even form them.

Roman cocked a brow. “What else would you be?”

Marcus didn’t find the sass funny at all. He bristled, fists clenching harder as he might break his fingers with how much pressure he was putting on them.

“I want to be respected like a human being.”

The words were tumbling out before he could even think about them. It wasn’t rational. It wasn’t like he was going to get anywhere with Roman. He wasn’t going to negotiate his way out of captivity. Especially when his captor was a fucking serial killer.

But Roman didn’t immediately laugh in his face. He accessed Marcus, his eyes searching his face. All the while, Marcus was burning from the inside out. As Roman picked him apart, Marcus could only imagine what was going through Roman’smind. That was a place he didn’t want to go, but he convinced himself it wasn’t anymore different than when he was at the station, tucked in the corner from the rest of the world.

While searching for a killer on paper was safer and much less self-involved, trying to access their personality and predict what they might do was the same either way.

“Alright,” Roman said as he took a step toward Marcus.

Marcus’s feet were trying to move on their own. He locked his knees so he wouldn’t run away.

“I’ll treat you like I would if you were on the outside.” Roman’s voice was hushed. He lowered his head so his mouth hovered next to Marcus’s ear.

A shiver went down his spine. His resolve waned. He felt like he’d be knocked down by the slightest of touches.

“But what do I get out of this?”

Marcus took a shaky breath. He resisted the urge to shove Roman away from him.

He side-eyed Roman, seething. “You don’t getanything. It’s called human decency.”

Roman did laugh at that. “Darling, I’m a killer. I never had any human decency.”

Marcus slammed his palm into Roman’s chin. Roman’s head went to the side.

Marcus yanked his hand back. His chest heaved as he watched Roman touch his jaw. A bead of blood trailed from his bottom lip.

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