Page 9 of Corrupted Tyrant

As Candy launches into the final chorus, her head thrown back in abandon as she ends the song with her pathetic attempts at howling—”Awooooo,”—I can’t bring myself to care about the rules. For this moment, under the stars, with her music filling my soul, I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.

Chapter Seven

Candy

Was it just a week ago that we sat out here and I played my heart out for Courage? He wasn’t faking it. He really liked my music. I plop down next to him on a wide chaise lounge. The glow of the laptop screen I’m carrying illuminates his chiseled features, casting shadows that dance across his face like secrets waiting to be unveiled.

“We leave tomorrow, and I wanted to run this by you. I think you’re going to love it.”

He arches a brow, his piercing blue eyes flicking to mine. “Uh, should I be worried?”

I nudge him with my elbow, a grin tugging at my lips. “Oh, ye of little faith. Just wait until you see what I’ve got planned for our cross-country adventure.”

“Adventure?” His ears perk up, curiosity and skepticism warring in his gaze. “Before you launch, should I ask if this is Maury-Gold-approved?”

“Well, I didn’t run it by Maury, but if my seven-foot-tall nanny thinks it’s unseemly, I’ll take it under advisement.”

“I’m six foot six and a half—that is, if you measure to the top of my skull and not the tips of my ears.”

I don’t know how he manages it, but he flicks them a few times in unison, then one at a time until I’m almost doubled over in laughter. The juxtaposition of his fierce, wolven fangs and the comedic look on his face is priceless.

“Okay. Let’s see what you’ve got.” He leans toward the screen, which means we’re shoulder to shoulder. Well, shoulder to thick, muscled biceps.

“So here’s the deal…” My fingers fly across the keyboard. “The tour schedule Maury sent us is just a list of cities and dates. No personality. No pizzazz. We fly into Pittsburgh… wait, are wolven allowed to fly?”

“One of the other benefits of Bold’s human rescue and the Warriors’ increased popularity is that the Governor allowed Others to get government-issued photo IDs. I’ve never been outside of LA, but I’m looking forward to traveling with you and flying for the first time.”

“Great. So… we fly to Pittsburgh, then, since we’re renting a van and driving the rest of the way… well, I thought we could add some spice to the journey.”

“Spice, huh?” His lips quirk, his tone dry. “Why do I get the feeling this will be more than just taking the scenic route?”

“Because you’re getting to know me, wolven.” I bump his thigh with mine, enjoying the way those gorgeous eyes crinkle at the corners. “Behold, the Candy Woods Back-to-Basics Tour, now with 100% more weirdness.”

I turn the screen toward him with a flourish, watching his expression as he scans the detailed itinerary I’ve put together. Peppered between tour dates are an array of offbeat attractions, local landmarks, and hidden gems—a roadmap of whimsy and wonder to break up the monotony of highway miles.

His brow furrows, his head tilting as he reads. “Randyland? The Parthenon… in Nashville? And what in the world is the Forevertron?”

“Only the world’s largest scrap metal sculpture,” I inform him gleefully. “Built by a reclusive artist in the middle of Wisconsin. It’s supposed to be this crazy steampunk wonderland.”

“Of course it is.” He shakes his head in mock disgust, but I catch the glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “You really dug deep for this, didn’t you? I’ve never heard of any of these places.”

“That’s the point.” I lean into him, sneaking a whiff of his clean, woodsy scent. “We’re going off the beaten path, baby. Hitting the weird and wonderful corners of America they don’t put in the guidebooks. If I’m banished from the big venues, I’m going to embrace what small-town America has to offer.”

“Weird and wonderful, huh?” He glances at me sidelong, his heated gaze a little too focused. “Sounds like someone I know.”

My cheeks warm, but I play it off with a hair toss and a smirk. “I didn’t know you liked Maury enough to call him wonderful.”

He laughs at that, a full-bodied sound that wraps around me like a plush blanket. “Oh, I don’t know, rock star. I’d say of the two of you, you’re the one who earned the title.”

The air between us crackles with something unsaid, something that makes my pulse trip and my skin prickle with awareness. These moments keep happening—charged silences, loaded looks, casual touches that linger a beat too long.

But before I can examine it further, Courage clears his throat, turning back to the screen.

“So, what else do you have up your sleeve? I’m almost afraid to ask.”

Grateful for the diversion, I launch into the highlights. “The World’s Largest Chest of Drawers in North Carolina, the SPAM Museum in Minnesota, and if we get anywhere near Vermont, we’re going to the Ben and Jerry’s Flavor Graveyard even if I have to drag you kicking and screaming.”

“Graveyard?’

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