Page 16 of Corrupted Tyrant

“Come on.” I need to keep moving so I can control my urge to kiss her, because with every passing minute, I’m believing more and more that she would welcome it, and that’s too dangerous. “Let’s go see what other marvels and monstrosities this place has to offer.”

We spend the next hour wandering through the rest of the Odditorium, marveling at displays ranging from the whimsical (a life-size gingerbread house made entirely out of recycled candy wrappers) to the downright bizarre (a collection of “paranormal” artifacts including a “genuine” werewolf pelt that makes me snort derisively).

Through it all, Candy’s hand stays firmly clasped in mine, her laughter and her wonder a balm to my jaded soul. Being with her like this, seeing the world through her eyes… it’s a gift. One I never thought I’d be lucky enough to receive.

As we’re heading to the parking lot, our arms laden with tacky souvenirs and novelty postcards, Candy’s phone buzzes from inside her purse. After we’ve dumped our cache of goodies in the rear compartment, she frowns as she looks at the screen.

It’s obviously upsetting, because all the air huffs out of her as her shoulders sag.

“It’s from an unknown number. ‘The past has a way of catching up to those who try to outrun it. And when it does… I wouldn’t want to be in your stilettos. Don’t talk to the press about anything but singing your pathetic little songs.’”

The blood drains from my face, a cold, sickening dread settling in the pit of my stomach. Fuck.

“Do you think it’s Sam Raskins?” I look more closely at the screen as though the inanimate object will spill its secrets.

“Could be him, but he’s really more of an asshole who preyed on defenseless kids. He liked to lord his power over the weak and powerless. This seems more… ballsy than the Sam I knew. I wonder if this goes all the way to the head of the network, to Maxwell Blackwell, the CEO.”

My mind is racing as I consider all the ways I need to protect Candy. I’ve been diligent, but with this newest threat, I’ll need to be her second skin.

“Should we bring Maury in on this? I know I’m your bodyguard, but you were more accurate when you called me a babysitter. He hired me to protect you from yourself, not cowardly villains who send anonymous threats. This person, whoever they are, doesn’t sound like they’re playing.”

“Let’s wait. See if another threat comes in before we bother Maury. I think I’ve thrown enough shit his way. Hopefully, we don’t need to worry him with this. We’ll just stay mindful.”

My protective instincts surge as I realize Candy’s not equipped for this. Ten minutes ago she was thrilled to watch the little band of taxidermied squirrels, for fuck’s sake. Now she’s acting as though this threat is merely an inconvenience.

She can pretend she’s strong and unaffected all she wants, but I tuck her close, one hand cupping the back of her skull, the other banded around her waist as I murmur in her ear.

“Candy, I’m a wolven. I’ve been providing security in the Zone for a decade. With fangs, claws, an uncanny sense of smell, and more strength than a human, I’ll protect you.”

She cuddles closer, as though she’d crawl under my skin if she could. I’m glad my words comforted her. Now all I have to do is make good on my word and protect her from some maniac who has her personal cell number.

Chapter Eleven

Candy

The threat at the Odditorium loomed over me for a few days, but it faded just in time for tonight’s concert.

The stage is my home. It’s the one place I’ve always felt truly alive, truly myself. But tonight, as I step up to the microphone and look out at the sea of faces illuminated by the soft glow of the stage lights, I feel something different. Something new.

I feel… whole.

It’s the thrill of performing, the rush of adrenaline that comes from baring my soul to a room full of strangers. It’s the knowledge that I’m doing what I love, what I was born to do.

My songs pour out of me tonight as I fill them with nuances I’d never felt before. I allow the music to carry me away, and by doing that, the audience feels it, too. They hear me, really hear me. And for the first time in my life, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I am enough. Just as I am.

I’m still riding that high as I practically skip off the stage, my body vibrating with the aftershocks of adrenaline and joy. Courage is waiting for me, his hoodie pulled over his head and his arms already open. I launch myself into his embrace with a breathless laugh.

“Did you see that?” I ask, my words muffled against his chest. “Did you feel it?”

“I felt it.” His voice is a warm rumble, his lips brushing the top of my head. “You were amazing out there. You fucking shone.”

I tilt my head back to look at him, my smile so wide it makes my cheeks ache. “I couldn’t have done it without you. Knowing you were there, believing in me… it made all the difference.”

His eyes soften as he cradles my cheek in his palm. “I’ll always believe in you, Candy. Always.”

Reality has a way of intruding, and all too soon, a polite cough from somewhere behind me reminds me we’re not alone. Reluctantly, I pull away, turning to face the source of the interruption.

It’s a woman, tall and slender with a sleek bob of silver hair and piercing blue eyes. She carries herself with an air of authority, her tailored pantsuit and sensible heels practically screaming “professional.”

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