Page 16 of Silent Truths
Christ.
He pressed his forearm into the door right above my head and dropped his now-clean palm to my hip, leaning into me, our noses brushing. “Now, will you talk to me?” he asked, his voice low and crooning.
He wasn’t running away. He wasn’t shoving me aside and darting out of the room to pretend this hadn’t happened. He wanted to talk.
Swallowing thickly, my bleeding heart in the palm of my hands, cradled like the most fragile, antique piece of glass, I nodded my head.
“Yeah,” I rasped, my throat dry. “We can talk.”
10
Salem
I grabbed Tor’s hand in mine and led him over to my bed since it was closer. He looked like he was on the verge of running, so I wanted him wrapped up in my arms, tangled up in the blankets with me before he could try to dip out again. I wasn’t beneath trapping him. I never said my moral compass worked properly.
Once we were lying in bed, I tugged him close to me. He rolled over onto his side, his back facing me, but that was fine. I just draped my thigh over his and tangled my other leg around one of his, hooking him against me. He sighed, obviously figuring out what I was doing, but he didn’t say a word. Just relaxed back into me and let me take charge like he used to do.
Like what was once so damn common for us.
It made my fucking chest ache.
“I’m sorry I’ve been such a fucking dick,” I murmured into his hair. He stayed silent and still. “I’m sorry I hurt you and made you feel like you were alone and that you couldn’t rely on me. And I’m fucking sorry that I walked out of that bathroom without a backward glance even though that night flipped my entire world on its axis.” I drew in a deep breath. “Because it was the night I realized I needed you as more than a friend. That I’m in fucking love with you.”
Tor’s breath hitched in his throat at my confession. I tightened my arms around him, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. He shuddered, sinking deeper into me. Fuck. “I couldn’t cope. You know my past—know my history.” I carelessly laughed. It sounded cruel to my own ears. “Hell, you know me better than I know myself, Tor. You know how my parents were—madly in love until one day, they just fucking weren’t.”
Tor surprised me by rolling over then, his palms pressing to my bare chest. His fingers were a bit cold, which made me flinch since I hadn’t been expecting it. His gray eyes met mine, and that fucking tongue flicked out over his bottom lip again.
He was such a fucking tease.
Unable to help myself, I leaned forward and sealed my mouth over his, kissing him soft and slow. I almost deepened it, wanting more of him like the selfish bastard I was, but he pulled back before I could, his breathing a bit ragged.
I did that to him. Me. Fuck. My fingers tightened on him, pressing into his skin hard enough to leave bruises. He didn’t seem to mind. In fact, his eyes darkened, his pupils expanding the tiniest bit at my possessive grip.
“I am not your parents, and neither are you,” Tor told me, his voice thick with emotion—sadness, hope, fear? “We’re different, Salem. We always fucking have been.”
I nodded, my Adam’s apple bobbing as I swallowed. “I know. But fear dies a hard, slow death.”
Tor sighed. “You killed me that night, Salem. You finished slaughtering me a week after that. Do you remember what you said to me?” I closed my eyes, drawing in a deep breath. How could I ever forget the hateful words I said to him? They played on repeat inside my fucking skull, making me lay awake at night more often than not.
It was a fucking mistake, Tor. Don’t fucking bring it up again.
It was never a mistake. In fact, it was the greatest night of my damn life.
But I hadn’t thought I was good enough for him. Tor was always so full of light, even when the world we lived in was so dark, so suffocating. I’d thought being with me would put that light out.
Instead, I’d managed to do that by pushing him away. But maybe there was a chance I could relight it. Maybe he would burn brightly again.
“Yeah,” I rasped, my voice tight. “I remember.”
“Those words haunt me,” Tor croaked, pain in his voice.
I shook my head. “I didn’t fucking mean them, baby.” Opening my eyes, I cupped his cheek, stroking my thumb over his soft skin. He’d never grown a beard—never been able to. His cheek was as smooth as a baby’s bottom, and fuck, I couldn’t get enough of it. Never had been able to. “I’ll never mean those fucking words, you hear me? You’ll always be the one thing in this world that always means something. Everything we do together—anything we do together—will always be important. Never a goddamn mistake.”
Tor’s fingers trembled against my skin, and he tugged on my chest hair, pulling me closer. The pain sliced through me, but I moved closer without a single sound, pressing the front of our bodies together easily. His grip loosened just a bit, but I could still feel the tug of his fingers on the dark smattering of hair across my chest.
“I want to rip your heart from your chest,” Tor admitted, his voice ragged.
I smirked at him. “If you put your hands in my chest, baby, you’ll find it empty. My heart’s been flopping on the floor, trailing after your every step since the moment we met. I’ve been slipping on the blood left behind for over a year now. I was just too goddamn stupid to realize what the hell was going on.”
