Page 13 of Silent Truths (Razor Monkees #1)

Salem

M y 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.

He handed the pen over to me, watching as I began to put my own feelings into the lyrics he’d already written, but in a way that it could be used as the chorus and would be easy enough for him to write the rest of the song around.

He swallowed thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he watched my fingers slowly work the pen over the page, putting my own feelings to paper.

Something I’d never done before. This had always been Tor’s area of expertise. I was just there for the guitar and another voice to back his up.

This was a pretty big moment for us.

A knock sounded on the door of our room—we’d always shared a room and a bed, and that had extended even when we’d been on the outs.

Dalton had offered to bunk with me and Jesse bunk with Tor so we wouldn’t have to be in a confined space together, but I’d lost my shit and broken his nose for the mere suggestion.

We’d both lied and told Tor he got drunk and fell off the bus steps when Tor had asked about it. As far as I knew, that was what Tor thought truly happened. And as long as I had my way, it would remain mine and Dalton’s secret.

“What?” I grunted when Tor didn’t make a move to acknowledge the person on the other side of the door.

It cracked open, and Kalin stuck his head around it. “We’re stopping for food here in a bit. You guys going to join us?”

Tor shook his head at the same time as I said, “Nah. Working on a new song. You mind bringing us back something?”

“You got it,” Kalin said before dipping back out and quietly shutting the door behind him with a soft click.

Tor read over the lyrics when I set the notebook back on his thigh and held the pen out to him. He slowly wrapped his fingers around it before he let out a long, slow breath. “Are we singing this together?” he asked, looking at me now. Hope and fear shone in his eyes. “Like we used to?” he croaked.

In high school, Tor set up his songs so we could sing them together. We were happiest on stage right next to each other, and having me that close settled him. After that fateful night, we still did sometimes, but only for our old songs.

Any new ones he wrote… well, they weren’t meant to be shared with me.

I nodded and knocked his notebook off his thigh before pulling him over so he was straddling me.

A soft noise of surprise sounded from his throat, and I gripped his thighs, my fingers pressing into his skin.

He softly moaned when I slid my hand up, wrapping it around the back of his neck so I could pull him down. “Just like we used to, baby.”

And then, I kissed him like we were both dying and it was the last kiss we’d ever share.

Delia marched onto the bus like she owned the place and stopped short when she saw Tor passed out in my arms on the couch, his head resting on my shoulder.

He was curled into a ball, covered with a blanket, and I was holding him like he was a precious gem—the rarest one—and one small movement could shatter him.

She blinked in surprise and then shook her head. “Wake him up. You’re here, and I need to get you checked into the hotel, and then we need to meet in the conference room on the second floor so I can debrief you and give you your schedules.”

“I’m not waking him up,” I glowered.

She sucked in a deep breath like she was trying to gather every bit of patience she could. Jesse snickered, making her shoot a dark look at him full of icy daggers. He didn’t even care.

“I’m awake,” Tor mumbled, his voice garbled with sleep. His eyes were still shut, and he snuggled closer to me, his palms slipping beneath my shirt to flatten over my abs. They quivered beneath his touch, but other than that, I gave no other sign that his touch affected me.

Only he knew. And that was just fucking fine. He was the only person who needed to know.

“Go back to sleep,” I told him quietly. To Delia, I said, “We’ll go through a debrief once we’ve all rested.

” She opened her mouth to argue, and I glared at her.

“I’ll call Richard,” I warned her. We were one of his biggest money-makers, and if we needed rest, he would call Delia and make sure we got it.

She gritted her teeth. “He’ll tell you the exact?—”

“No, he won’t,” Kalin said dismissively, leaning back in his seat like he didn’t have a care in the world. “He wants his artists to be rested, especially if they’re representing the label at an event he’s sponsoring. Tor has spent the past several hours writing songs. He’s exhausted. Let him rest.”

She clenched her jaw. “Sometimes, I hate that I got stuck with you lot.”

Spike chuckled, shooting her a smirk full of disdain. “Feeling is mutual, I assure you,” he told her.

She made an aggravated noise in the back of her throat. “Nine this evening. That’s more than enough time for you to rest, shower, and eat.”

“That’s three fucking hours,” Dalton told her, annoyance lacing his tone.

She shrugged. “I don’t care. Deal with it.

” She slapped room keys on the counter. Tor, who had fallen back asleep already, his soft breath fanning my skin with every exhale, didn’t even stir.

I knew his mind was drained. The lyrics he’d written were…

exhausting, to put it lightly. When Tor wrote…

he bled. Everywhere and out of every pore.

“The keys are to the suite on the sixth floor.”

With that, she flounced off the bus. I looked at Spike. “Mind grabbing my jacket and draping it over his face?” I asked. “Need to get him upstairs to a bed.”

Spike stood and grabbed my leather jacket off the hook near the door before carefully draping it over Tor’s head so the light wouldn’t bother him.

I stood from the couch, and Kalin held the bus door open for me.

With a little maneuvering, I managed to get off the bus with Tor still cradled against my chest all without knocking his shoulder or his feet against the door frame.

As soon as we were in our suite, I headed toward the first room and gently—so fucking carefully so I wouldn’t accidentally wake him—laid Tor on the bed.

He grunted but just rolled over and hugged the closest pillow.

I covered him up and headed out of the room.

Dalton handed me mine and Tor’s duffel bag.

Another thing that was suddenly our normal now. Just like we used to if we stayed at Dalton’s place before we all got our own place to share, Tor and I shared a duffel bag.

It was the little things like this that I’d missed so goddamn much.

“Thanks,” I told him gruffly.

He nodded once. “He okay?”

I nodded. “You know how he is when he’s spent too much time writing.”

Dalton sighed. “Yeah. His songs are fucking amazing. Just wish they didn’t take so much out of him.”

Shit, I did, too. But there was something beautiful about the way Tor squeezed out his heart onto those sheets of paper and then sought me out for a donation source to replenish the blood he’d lost. And the part of me that wanted Tor completely dependent on me… well, I fucking loved it.

“Salem?”

I spun around to face the door to our room. Tor was standing in the doorway, his eyes sleepy and heavy-lidded. Immediately, I walked to him and settled a hand on his hip, backing him into the room. Dropping the duffel bag, I kicked the door shut and led him back to bed.

“You shouldn’t be awake yet,” I told him.

He grunted when we fell to the mattress, me on top of him. Immediately—like it was pure instinct—his legs parted, cradling me between them. He licked his lips, looking a little more awake now. And that hazy look was entering his eyes—the one he got when he needed me.

Christ, I couldn’t get enough of him.