Page 3 of Corrupted Tyrant

I flop onto the couch with a groan, throwing an arm over my face. A live-in babysitter. Fan-fucking-tastic. As if my life weren’t already a mess, now I’ll have some wannabe tough guy watching my every step and pawing through my underwear drawer looking for contraband. But as much as I hate to admit it, Maury’s right. I’m out of control. I need help, or I’m going to fuck up everything I’ve worked for. My career, my friendships, my last shred of self-respect.

Although he threatened to send me to rehab, we both know that’s not really the problem. I abuse substances, but I’m not addicted. It’s just that I’ve never recovered from shit in my childhood. I know, wah, wah, wah, poor little rich girl. But it’s true, I’m an emotional mess.

I think of Sam Raskins, of the Kids Entertainment Network, even though I’ve tried so hard to forget. It’s eaten away at me for years. I’ve tried to bury it under booze and bad behavior. Maybe it’s time to face my demons. Perhaps now’s the time to finally deal with my shit, to get my head on straight.

Maybe this new babysitter won’t be so bad after all. I snort, shaking my head at my naïveté. Who am I kidding? This is going to be a disaster. A hot, chaotic disaster. But bring it on. If Candy Wood is going down, she’s going down swinging. With a newfound sense of determination, I heave myself off the couch and head for the spare bedroom.

Time to make way for my new shadow. Lord, help us both.

Chapter Two

Courage

“No, Bold. This is bullshit!” I snarl, exposing my fangs as my fur bristles along my shoulders.

Bold’s eyes go wide, his ears twitching in surprise. “I’m sure any of the other guys would be thrilled to take this gig. Who wouldn’t want to bodyguard a pretty young woman whose lady bits have been exposed to the entire world?”

I don’t give a rat’s ass about celebrity gossip, but even I know Candy Wood’s privates have had more screen time than most A-list actors.

“I chose you for a reason, Courage. You’re the male for the job.” Bold’s tone is firm, but I catch the concern beneath it.

My jaw tightens. He doesn’t need to spell it out. I was supposed to be guarding his mate Jasmine when she got snatched on my watch. Sure, it all worked out in the end, but that failure still gnaws at my gut, eating away at my self-esteem.

“I’ve been a Wolven Warrior for years, Bold. I signed up to patrol the Integration Zone and protect all the Others in the Zone. Not play babysitter to some out-of-control pop star.”

Bold’s ears flatten, and a warning growl rumbles in his throat. “This is a pack, Courage.”

I flash my fangs at him. “And last I checked; we have no official pack leader.”

The air crackles with tension, fur raising along both our shoulders. Not like it would ever come to blows, but dominance displays run deep with our kind.

Bold’s the first to stand down, chuffing out a breath. He steps forward and clasps a hand on my shoulder, his grip firm. “The pack voted for me to run things. I didn’t ask for this job. This gig has your name all over it and… Courage, bro, you’re one of my best friends. How long are you going to beat yourself up over what happened with Jasmine?”

I look away, a muscle ticking in my jaw. “She got kidnapped on my watch, Bold. Held at gunpoint by that lunatic. That’s on me.”

“It wasn’t your fault, man. You were blindsided and assaulted—wound up in the hospital over it. I want you to take this job because I trust you. It’s high profile, a chance to redeem yourself—not that you need redeeming except in your own mind. I’m asking, though, not ordering.”

Fuck. If he’d made it an order, I’d fight him tooth and nail. But a request, for my own good? I heave out a breath, my tail flicking in agitation. “Fine. When do I start?”

“Ten a.m. tomorrow.” Bold grins, flashing a hint of lower fang. “And bro? See if you can keep this chick’s cooch off the front page of TMZ, yeah?”

I snort and flip him off, extending a claw as I do. “You want me to leash an out-of-control human woman? I’m a wolven, not a miracle worker.”

But as I stride out of Bold’s office, my mind’s already racing. Twenty-five years ago, the Others dropped into the Mojave Desert like something out of a bad sci-fi flick. Orcs, nagas, minotaurs, wolven, the whole gamut. No one knows how we got here or why.

Once the humans figured out we weren’t the alien invasion they feared, just a bunch of primitive refugees wearing furs and carrying knives in our boots, they shoved us into this ten-square-block shithole on the outskirts of Los Angeles. They fenced us in, called it the Integration Zone, and pretty much wiped their hands of us except to use us for manual labor at a third of the minimum wage.

Might as well be prison.

Sure, these days we can come and go… to an extent. We can visit the human world, do jobs, but we still can’t truly live out there, not freely. The Orcs took to firefighting, and we wolven? We formed the Warriors, sworn to protect the Others within the Zone.

At least until Bold and his hero complex went viral. He saved a human woman during the recent tidal wave. It made national news and now every rich human with a problem wants a piece of us.

Including naughty Ms. Candy Wood.

I shake my head as I snag my go bag. When did bodyguarding a bratty pop star become part of the job? But if this is what it takes to get back in Bold’s good graces, to prove myself to the pack again, to regain my self-esteem…

Then Candy Wood better watch out. She’s about to get a Wolven Warrior bodyguard she’ll never forget. And this wolven? Won’t play.

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