Page 69 of The Butterfly Killer

No tears came to his eyes. He didn’t cry, but the sensation of deep sadness filled him. He felt more hopeless than when he’d found his mom lying in a pool of her own blood. He felt more hopeless than when his sister cut all contact from him, leaving him to pick up the pieces of their shattered lives.

His knuckles had gone white with how hard he was gripping the trash can. If he squeezed any harder he might break his fingers or the trashcan.

As if to taunt him, Roman brushed the knuckle of his forefinger along the kitten’s fur.

Marcus curled his lip in disgust. “You…”

Roman pulled his hand away and turned his head to look at Marcus. “I killed her? Is that what you want to ask?”

Marcus clenched his teeth. He wanted to throw something. No. He wanted to hitsomeone.

Roman placed his hand on the back of Marcus’s neck. Marcus jolted from the cold touch. The pad’s of Roman’s fingers seemed to know exactly where to press to make Marcus weak in all limbs.

Roman leaned down so his face was next to Marcus’s profile.

“What if I did? What are you going to do? You know me, Marcus. I killhumans. Do you think I care at all what I do to animals?”

He wouldn’t cry. He wouldn’t snap. He’d already put too much of himself in this case, into Roman himself. It was as if the man was a walking personification of all his nightmares. The fruition of Roman’s sick twisted games had already ripened and now they were planting their own seeds.

Roman pulled away with a snort. He shook his head. “I didn’t kill her.”

Marcus let out the breath he’d been holding. He slumped over the trash can, brows furrowing as he stared at Roman in confusion. “You didn’t?”

“No, I didn’t,” Roman replied, sounding insulted that Marcus had believed something so ridiculous. “Only someone insecure would kill animals. What’s there to get out of it?”

He said it so casually that Marcus couldn’t tell if he was joking or if he was being serious.

“That’s a little hypocritical.”

Marcus hadn’t said it quietly enough under his breath. Roman very much heard it and gave him the side-eye as he reached for a fresh pair of gloves.

He snapped them on. “Would you rather that I did kill them?”

Marcus focused on his breathing. “I would still hate you the same.”

Yes, is what he thought. He would rather Roman be a heartless killer because that was what he was. It shouldn’t matter that he drew the line at animals because he didn’t draw the line at humans. Innocent women at that. And for what? So he could show off to another psycho? For a pissing contest?

Roman hummed. “And did you hate me last night?”

Marcus narrowed his eyes. He flushed down to his chest and his gut flared in memory. He hoped his annoyance hid the fact his body was preparing for another round.

“We don’t have to like each other to get off.”

Roman turned to the kitten. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

He went back to his work as if they’d come to some sort of agreement. Marcus had no idea what he might have agreed to, but whatever it might be, Roman seemed happy about it.

His nerves rose as Roman prepared a jar to place the kitten in. He poured alcohol in the jar and after cleaning the kitten and brushing the fur, he put the small creature into the liquid. Marcus hadn’t ever seen how jarring an animal was done though he’d seen these jars in many films and television shows. Seeing it in person wasn’t as horrible as he thought it would be. He didn’t like it. Not at all, but he was more curious than disgusted.

Roman cleaned up his desk, took off his gloves for a second time, and threw them in the trash. He stood and gestured for Marcus to do the same.

Marcus scrambled to his feet. He still held the trash can when he started toward the curtain. Roman stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Oh, the trashcan—” Marcus cut himself off as Roman’s face got closer to his.

He had only enough time to turn his face a fraction before Roman kissed him.

The kiss was merely a brush on his cheek, but it caused tidal waves of reactions.

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