Page 88 of The Butterfly Killer

The man handed the keys over and scribbled something down on the ledger, right where Marcus had been writing.Marcus strained to see his own scrawled words. They were almost illegible. The sliver of hope he had diminished.

The man gave a nod to Roman when he was done.

They walked out.

Marcus shivered. Not from the cold. It was the anticipation of the punishment that was to come when they made it to the motel room.

24

Roman was eerilycalm as he unlocked the motel door and kicked it open with the tip of his foot. He held Marcus’s arm, firmly, but not enough that Marcus couldn’t break away from it. He was pulled into the musky room with a simple tug.

Running or fighting didn’t even cross his mind. He did think how weird it was that he wasn’t thinking it in the first place.

The motel room was small. There was one queen size bed in the middle, a box TV that just looked sad and depleted, and a bathroom he couldn’t really see it was so dark.

Roman flicked the light on as he closed the door, locking both locks. He closed the blinds as well.

Marcus turned to face Roman. He didn’t like have his back to him. It felt too much like submission. He might be starting to see Roman as a human being and not a rabid animal, but he wasn’t going to let him have that kind of control and power over him.

Roman straightened. Marcus hadn’t noticed that he was usually slouched—a result of bending over a desk for long periods maybe. He was tall without standing to his full height, but now he seemed otherworldly tall. It created a sense of unease that twisted Marcus’s stomach.

He read Roman’s body cues, thinking of the best course of action to stop the ticking bomb before it went off.

All his training went out the window when Roman stalked toward him and wrapped those long fingers around his neck.

“We were getting somewhere, Officer.” He tsked. “We’re going to have to start all over.”

Marcus let out a yell as Roman turned him around and shoved him face first into the stale smelling bed. The bedsprings squeaked and he bounced as the whole bed frame jostled.

Panic sparked in him. He thrashed his arms, but Roman grabbed them like he’d expected the reaction and shoved them high up on Marcus’s back.

Roman’s free hand covered Marcus’s mouth, muffling anymore screams he might let out. He whipped his head to try to get the hand off. At the same time, Roman straddled his back and put all of his weight on top of him.

Marcus bucked. Roman locked his thighs tighter around his waist. He pressed his hips downward. He used Marcus’s held arms as if they were reigns. As if Marcus was a wild buck who needed to be tamed.

The humiliating thought made Marcus’s face burn. Anger simmered under the surface. He almost became blind with it. All that he’d been holding back in the hope he could gain some kind of sympathy from Roman exploded from within him.

Roman couldn’t actually care about him. He couldn’t grow attached because he wasn’t a stereotype Marcus could “figure” out. Marcus had viewed Roman’s manipulation as a bad thing while doing the exact thing without success. He was ashamed at his own stupidity.

He’d gone still beneath Roman. His pulse continued to race and his breath was ragged from exerting himself so much. His leg hurt worse because of the fight he’d put up and for what? Just to go back to where he started?

Roman moved his hand from Marcus’s mouth and lowered it to cup Marcus’s chin. Marcus clenched his teeth, thinking about biting Roman’s hand. He could taste the blood and smell the metallic scent with a little sick anticipation.

He didn’t do it. He still had some sanity though it felt like he was on the teetering edge of a manic episode.

“Do you hate me now?”

Marcus glared at the ugly bedding. He went rigid beneath Roman, a ticking time bomb that with the wrong move would go off. Except he didn’t know if he could possibly do any kind of damage to Roman. He seemed above emotions, above caring, and above humanity at all.

Untouchable. Like anything Marcus did would have no impact on him. It was relieving and frustrating at the same time.

His voice shook with anger and a little defeat. “I’ve always hated you.”

He despised what Roman did. If he wasn’t so blinded by the time he’d spent with Roman, he wouldn’t hesitate to kill him.

He closed his eyes, reeling from the wave of nausea that overcame him.

“But I forgive you.”

---