8. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

C ourage

The colors hit me first. A kaleidoscope of vibrant hues splashed across every surface like a paint factory explosion. It's a sensory overload, a cacophony of whimsy and chaos that sets my teeth on edge and my heart racing with something that feels suspiciously like… wonder?

"Welcome to Randyland!" Candy bounces on her toes beside me, her grin so wide it's a miracle her face doesn't crack in two.

I blink, trying to reconcile the riot of color with the drab, gray world I'm used to back in the Zone. It's like stepping into an alternate universe, one where the rules of reality don't quite apply.

"It's… a lot," I manage, my eyes darting from the technicolor murals to the mismatched sculptures to the throngs of people milling about, snapping photos and exclaiming over the various installations.

Candy laughs, looping her arm through mine. The casual touch sends a jolt through me, even though I'm wearing my hoodie.

Keeping my ears under my hood, my tail tucked into my pant leg, and my lips closed in public was something Candy and I discussed. Others are allowed out of the Zone to work, but very few of us have left the Los Angeles area. I don't want to call attention to myself, definitely don't want to cause trouble for Candy. We agreed to reevaluate, but this is the plan, at least for now.

"Yep. This place being just the other side of overwhelming is kind of the point, Mr. Big Bad Wolven. It's supposed to be a lot. It's supposed to make you feel something."

I swallow hard, trying to ignore the way her proximity makes me feel all sorts of somethings. Things I have no business feeling for my charge, no matter how magnetic her presence or how infectious her joy.

"And what do you feel?" I ask, my voice rougher than I intended.

She tilts her head, considering. "Alive. Inspired. As though anything is possible, even in the midst of all this beautiful, glorious mess."

I nod, letting her words sink in. It's a foreign concept to me, this idea of embracing the chaos, of finding beauty in the disorder. In the Zone, everything is regimented, controlled. Structure is survival; order is safety.

But here, in this explosion of color and whimsy? Maybe there's a different kind of safety. The kind that comes from letting go, from surrendering to the madness and seeing where it takes you.

Candy tugs on my arm, pulling me toward a particularly eye-catching installation. "Come on, I want to get a closer look at that one!"

I let her lead me, trying to ignore the prickle of unease that crawls up my spine as we weave through the crowd. Though I'm desperately trying to blend in, I'm acutely aware of my otherness. Even with my tail tucked down one pant leg and my fur covered, I feel exposed. A target.

It's nothing new, this wariness, this fear. I've lived with it all my life, the knowledge that to most humans, I'm a monster, a creature to be gawked at and shunned. But here, in this bright, shining world that Candy inhabits so effortlessly? It stings more than usual.

Candy must sense my discomfort, because she slows her pace, her hand tightening on my arm. "Hey," she says softly, her eyes finding mine. "Just focus on me, okay? Forget about everyone else. It's just you and me and this crazy, beautiful place."

I take a deep breath, letting her presence ground me. She's right. I can't control how others react to me, but I can control my own experience. And right now, that experience is Candy, in all her vibrant, vivacious glory.

We spend the next hour exploring every nook and cranny of Randyland, Candy oohing and aahing over each new discovery while I try to wrap my mind around the sheer creativity on display. It's like nothing I've ever seen, a testament to the power of the human imagination.

As we wander, I find myself making mental notes, my mind spinning with ideas for projects I could tackle back in the Zone. A mural on the community center wall, perhaps, or a sculpture garden in the park. Something to bring a little color, a little joy, to a place that often feels so run down and lifeless.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Candy bumps her hip against my thigh, startling me out of my reverie.

I duck my head, feeling a flush creep up my neck. "Just thinking about how I might be able to bring a little bit of this back home with me. Liven up the Zone a bit, you know?"

Her eyes widen, a slow grin spreading across her face. "Courage, that's brilliant! You totally should."

Her words catch me off guard, something warm and full taking root in my chest. I'm not used to people seeing me as anything other than a warrior, a protector. The idea that I could create something, that I could make the world a little brighter, a little better… it's exhilarating.

I clear my throat, trying to play it off with a shrug. "We'll see. I'm not exactly the artistic type."

"Bullshit." She tosses her head for emphasis. "I've seen the way you look at the world, the way you take everything in. You've got an artist's soul, even if you don't know it yet."

Before I can respond, a high-pitched squeal cuts through the air. "Oh my god, is that Candy Wood?!"

I tense, my hand automatically reaching for the concealed stun gun at my hip. But Candy just laughs, turning toward the source of the noise with a smile.

"Guilty as charged," she says, spreading her arms wide. "What gave me away, the pink hair or the entourage of paparazzi hiding in the bushes?"

The group of girls materialize out of the crowd, tittering, their eyes wide with awe. "We're huge fans," one of them gushes. "Huge. Like, we've been following your career since KEN."

Candy's smile softens, genuine affection shining through. "That's so sweet, thank you. It means the world to me that you've stuck with me all this time."

As the girls clamor for autographs and selfies, I hang back, watching Candy work her magic. She's a natural with her fans—warm, engaging, and utterly sincere. It's a far cry from the jaded, cynical starlet I first met, the one who seemed to view her fame as more of a burden than a blessing.

But here, surrounded by the people who love her, who she's touched with her music and her story? She comes alive in a whole new way.

After a few minutes, Candy extricates herself from the group with a final round of hugs and thank-yous. "I hate to run," she says, "but I've got a concert to prep for."

The girls nod in understanding, their faces flushed with excitement. As they disperse, one of them turns to me, her expression curious.

"Are you her boyfriend?"

I blink, taken aback by her bold question. Candy saves me from having to answer, looping her arm through mine with a laugh.

"Oh, he wishes," she says, her tone light and teasing. "This is Courage, my bodyguard. He keeps me safe from overenthusiastic fans." She winks, taking any sting out of her words. The girl looks me up and down, her gaze lingering on my jaw, my lips—still pulled tight over my fangs to keep them hidden.

"He's hot. You should totally hit that."

Before I can sputter out a response, Candy is steering me away, her shoulders shaking with barely suppressed laughter.

"I am so sorry." Her voice strained with mirth. "I forgot how… direct teenage girls can be."

"Can't wait to read what they post online later," I mutter, trying to ignore the heat creeping up the back of my neck. "The fanfiction alone will probably make your pink hair curl."

"Oh, please. Like I haven't been the subject of thirsty fanfic since my KEN days." She tosses her hair over her shoulder, a wicked glint in her eye. "Though I have to say, the idea of you starring in some steamy bodice-ripper is pretty hilarious."

I raise my brows, feigning offense. "What, you don't think I could play the dashing romantic hero?"

"Oh, I have no doubt you'd excel at the dashing part." Her gaze rakes over me, lingering on my shoulders, my chest. "It's the romantic bit I'm skeptical about. I bet you're all Heathcliff—broody intensity and smoldering glances, but the second emotions come into play, you're like a deer in headlights."

I clutch my chest, staggering back a step. "You wound me, Candy. I'll have you know I'm a regular Casanova. Romance is my middle name."

She laughs, the sound bright and musical. "Courage Romance Wolven? Mmm, doesn't have a ring to it."

"I'm full of surprises," I growl playfully, enjoying the way her cheeks flush at the sound. "Stick around, rock star. You might learn a thing or two."

Her eyes meet mine, something heated and challenging sparking in their depths. "Promises, promises. You're all talk, wolven."

The air between us sparks, the easy banter giving way to something heavier, more charged. I'm acutely aware of how close we're standing, the way her body curves toward mine like a flower seeking the sun. And her scent curling in my nostrils is making me fucking crazy.

I open my mouth to reply, but before I can, a voice cuts through the tension like a blade.

"Well, well. Fancy meeting you here, Candy girl."

We both stiffen, turning to face the newcomer. He's mid-thirties, with slicked-back hair and a condescending smirk. Everything about him screams "Eurotrash," from his posh English accent to his designer sunglasses to his too-tight T-shirt and skinny jeans.

Candy's jaw clenches, her eyes hardening to chips of green ice. "Vince. What are you doing here?"

Vince spreads his hands wide, his grin widening. "Just taking in the sights. You know me, always on the lookout for the next big thing." He shrugs, then admits. "Someone posted a photo of you on Insta an hour ago, and since I was in town, I thought I'd say hello."

I've known the man all of one minute and I'm contemplating five ways to kill him because of how his lecherous glance is eating her up.

"And you, sweetcheeks? You're still the biggest game in town." His gaze slides over to me, his brows raising. "Although it looks like you've picked up a new… accessory since last we met."

A low growl rumbles in my chest, my hackles rising at the blatant disrespect in his tone. But Candy places a hand on my arm, her touch light but firm.

"Courage is my bodyguard," she says coolly. "And you're right, I have upgraded my accessories since dumping your slimy ass. Now, if you'll excuse us, we have places to be."

She turns away, but Vince's hand shoots out, grabbing her wrist. Candy stiffens, a sharp inhale hissing through her teeth. I lock all my joints to keep from leaping and eviscerating him.

"Now, now, is that any way to talk to your favorite collaborator? I practically made you, Candy. You couldn't be a child actress forever. Without me, you'd still be singing for free in local taverns."

My vision clouds red, a snarl ripping from my throat. Before he can blink, I have his wrist in my grip, my claws digging into his flesh as I wrench his hand away from Candy.

"Touch her again and I'll rip your fucking arm off." My voice is barely recognizable, more animal than humanoid, especially since the threat was made through clenched teeth. "She said we're leaving. So beat it before I beat you ."

Vince's eyes widen, shock and fear mingling on his face as he tries to yank his arm free. But my grip is iron, my strength fueled by rage and the overwhelming need to protect what's mine.

Wait… mine? Where the hell did that come from?

I shake off the thought, focusing on the threat at hand. Vince is sputtering now, his bravado shriveling under the heat of my glare.

"Hey man, chill. I was just saying hello to an old friend."

"Hello, goodbye, and go fuck yourself," Candy spits, her voice trembling with anger and something else, something more raw. Fear? Disgust? Both?

"We're done here." I release Vince's wrist with a final warning squeeze, gratified by his pained yelp. Then I place a gentle hand on the small of Candy's back and steer her away from this creep and the staring onlookers.

She's silent as we walk, her body rigid against mine. I can practically feel the emotions rolling off her—fury, revulsion, and beneath it all, a bone-deep weariness that makes my heart ache.

"Hey." I pull her to a stop after we round a corner and aren't on display, and duck my head to catch her gaze. "You okay?"

She takes a shuddering breath, her eyes shiny with unshed tears. "Yeah? No? I don't know." She laughs, but it's a brittle sound, sharp-edged and humorless. "Fucking Vince. I should've known he'd show up sooner or later, wagging his dick and trying to stake a claim."

I growl low in my throat, my blood still singing with the urge to tear that bastard limb from limb. "Who is he? Other than a total scumbag, I mean."

Candy sighs, rubbing a hand over her face. "He's a producer. We collaborated on a few tracks back in the day when I was first starting out as a solo artist. But he… wanted more than just a professional partnership."

Her voice wavers, the implication clear. Rage churns in my gut as I put the pieces together—the arrogant entitlement, the veiled innuendos, the way she shrank from his touch as though it burned.

Fuck. Except for Maury, was everyone in her past a selfish user? How many slimy Vinces left their mark on her, body and soul?

"Candy." Her name is a raw rasp, my throat tight with emotion. "Did he… did he hurt you?"

Her eyes meet mine, a world of pain and bitter resignation swirling in their depths. "He tried. Let's just say there's a reason I always brought a girlfriend with me to the studio."

Cold fury washes through me as I control my urge to snap my jaws in anger. "I'll kill him." The words are low and lethal, a vow and a vendetta. "No one touches you like that. No one."

To my surprise, Candy laughs—a weak, watery sound. "Down, boy. As much as I appreciate the avenging angel routine, he's not worth the murder charge."

She takes my hand, twining our fingers together. "Besides, I've got something better than a big bad wolven to protect me these days."

I frown down at her, confused. "Oh yeah? What's that?"

Her smile is small but fierce, a glint of steel beneath the surface. " Me . I've got me."

She takes a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. "I'm not that scared little girl anymore, Courage. I'm not the na?ve ingénue grasping for any shred of validation. I'm Candy fucking Wood, and I'm done letting the Vince Brewers and the Sam Raskins of the world make me feel small."

Pride and awe swell in my chest, so strong they steal my breath. Goddess! This female is incredible. A survivor, a warrior. A fucking queen.

"Damn straight you are," I manage, my voice rough with emotion. "And I'm honored to stand beside you, to remind you of your strength whenever you need it." I squeeze her hand, holding her gaze. "You're a badass, Candy. Never forget it."

We stand there for a long moment, hands clasped, the rest of Randyland fading away until it's just us, just this connection, this unspoken understanding.

Then Candy takes a deep breath, her smile turning impish. "Now, how about we blow this place and find some trouble to get into? I think we've had enough heavy shit for one day."

I laugh, warmth and affection unfurling in my chest. "Lead the way, rock star. Trouble is my middle name, remember?"

She grins, tugging me toward the exit. "How could I forget? Let's see, that makes you Courage Romance Trouble Wolven. But, here's a philosophical question, if there are four names, what's considered the middle name?"

"Whew." I shake my head. "That's enough to make my head explode. We'll have to answer that question another day."

As we step into the bustling Pittsburgh street, Candy's hand warm in mine, her head held high and her eyes bright with mischief, I feel something click into place deep in my chest.

I'm in trouble, all right. The best and worst kind.

But as long as I'm with this woman? This fierce, funny, unbreakable woman who makes me feel alive in ways I never knew possible? I'm going to hang on for the ride, no matter how bumpy.