Page 19 of Silent Truths

“You two were photographed at the hospital with bruises all over your faces. Tor was unconscious in your arms, Salem,” she announced, her tone snippy. “It’s all over social media, and people are speculating about you two—how you’re not a real couple, how you’re both abusive and toxic, that maybe your lyrics are too real and close to home for both of you.”

I flinched because her words honestly weren’t that far off the mark. A low growl sounded from Salem’s throat. He and I both knew those lyrics were very close to home. Hell, the entire band did, and their expressions quickly grew solemn at her words.

“I’ll fix it,” I rasped. “I’ll release a statement on social media with a new picture of me and Salem, and I’ll make up some story about a mugging, I guess. It should die down fast enough.”

Delia sniffed. “Make sure you send it over to Giselle to approve before you do it,” she told me, her voice cool. “Don’t let something like this happen again.”

I roughly cleared my throat to answer, but Salem beat me to it.

“It won’t,” he assured her.

“Good. Make sure you’re all well-rested and ready to go two weeks from today,” she ordered. Then, the phone call ended. Salem suddenly gripped my chin and turned my head, his lips meeting mine. I moaned softly in the back of my throat, everything about him seeping into my pores and making me drunk.

“There,” Salem breathed, pulling back from me. His pupils had expanded, letting me know he was just as affected by that kiss as I was… not to mention, his thick cock was hard beneath my ass. He showed me his phone, and my cheeks colored.

There was no mistaking how much we both needed each other. We had always looked like that, even when we’d hated each other and had been faking our relationship for the cameras.

But there was no mistaking the lightness to me, even with the bruises discoloring my jaw and cheeks.

“Glad you two finally pulled your heads out of your asses,” Spike spoke up as Salem sent the picture to me. I pulled out my phone, avoiding everyone’s gazes, instead focusing on writing the post so I could send it to Giselle for approval. “Bit longer, and I was going to shove you both into a tiny closet and barricade you in until you either talked or fucked the problems out of your system.”

I snorted. Salem flipped him the bird.

Spike just barked out a laugh and headed into the kitchen. “Anyone want pizza? My treat.”

Salem pulled me back to lean against him once again as the other four of our bandmates tried to figure out what pizzas to order. He brushed a kiss to my forehead. “By the way,” he rasped against my skin as my fingers worked over the screen of my phone, trying to figure out the best way to word this post, “you look hella fucking good with my bruises all over your skin.”

My cock perked up, and my heart slammed against my chest.

Christ.

12

Salem

My eyes snapped open when the bus hit a pothole, and I gritted my teeth. I hated being woken up unexpectedly, especially when I’d been in a damn good dream… one that involved a naked, begging, needy Tor as he took my cock and fell apart beneath me.

My dick was achingly hard, and precum had dampened the front of my boxers.

Tor shifted next to me, and I rolled my head over to face him, taking him in. His dyed, blonde hair was a mess on his head and pulled back into a bun. An old t-shirt I recognized as one of mine rested on his slimmer frame, and he was wearing a pair of sweatpants. His legs were crossed, and he was balancing his notebook on his knee, his pen in his hand as he scrawled words on the lined paper.

“More inspiration?” I rasped. He’d been getting a lot more of it lately—so much so that it was almost like having my Tor back. The one who was always in trouble for writing songs instead of doing his classwork. The one who used to always pour his heart out into his songs.

I always knew how he was feeling after I read his lyrics. Tor bled his emotions out in the lyrics he wrote.

Which was how I knew that even though for the past two weeks we’d been okay, he was still hurting. And I knew—no matter how much I wanted it to be otherwise—those wounds would take a long time to heal. I had a lot to make up for, but I was okay with that.

I couldn’t lose him. I couldn’t live without him. I’d been a dick, but I was determined to right my wrongs.

“Yeah,” Tor murmured, his voice still a little husky with sleep. He obviously hadn’t been awake long. I sidled closer and rested my head against his side, letting my eyes devour his lyrics, let them pour into my soul and into the parts of me that had been empty of him for so fucking long.

Too goddamn long.

The lyrics he was currently working on were softer but just as raw. They spoke of a different kind of pain—the pain of losing what he currently had. The fear. And the way I settled his soul and made his mind stop running a thousand miles a minute.

It wasn’t as clear-cut as that, but that was the gist of it all. Only now, he seemed stuck—like he couldn’t figure out what to write for the chorus.

“Give me the pen,” I murmured as I grabbed the notebook off his thigh.

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