A Sprint To His Heart (24 page)

Didn’t take long for Mabel to catch up to Gareth, or maybe I’d just lost consciousness for a while from the g-force. Soon the dragons were nearly even. I glanced over at Chanel and couldn’t help smirking.

Until Gareth whipped his powerful tail into Mabel’s side, and we spun end over end so fast spit flew from my mouth and my eyeballs damn near slammed into the back of my head. We stopped spinning just long enough for Mabel to let out a roar that shook every bone in my body.

My very angry dragon churned through the air, swooped in front of Gareth, and chomped on his wing. Then she slapped him so hard he hurtled face first into a mountainside.

We returned to the castle at a much slower pace, which made it easier for me since I was throwing up by this point.

Mabel landed near the cave, and the sprites squeaked their little heads off. “You won! You won!”

I wiped my mouth, too exhausted to appreciate the significance.

The gargoyles helped me down, their touch surprisingly tender. They even placed a blanket over me.

Laying on the ground, gasping, the irony hit me. I’d won, but I’d failed. I was still no closer to rescuing Piran.

A pair of glittery pumps entered my field of view.

“Ape. You scuffed my Jimmy Choos.”

“Good,” I retorted. “Where’s Piran?”

Chanel barked out a caustic laugh. “You will
never
see him again.”

“We had a deal,” I growled, my anger giving me the strength to stand.

“And I am reneging.” She smoothed her tangled hair. “You know who else reneged on a deal?”

“So take it out on them, not Piran. His parents arranged the engagement. Piran never wanted to marry you.”

For a moment, Chanel simply stared at me. Her eyes narrowed. “What does he see in you?”

Not that again. I’d probably always face doubters…assuming I made it home alive. “You’re asking the wrong question, Chanel,” I replied, swaying, unsteady on my feet. “What
don’t
you see about him?”

She snorted. “Whatever. His fetish is not my problem.”

“We like Bailey,” Pit protested. “And she won the race fair and square.”

“Get lost, meadow rats.” Chanel aimed a kick in the sprites’ direction, and they scrambled out of the way. “My race, my rules.”

One of the gargoyles grunted. “The race is binding, Princess. You must release the Savan prince. An agreement bound by magic cannot be dishonored. You know the consequences.”

Chanel pouted. “Yes, the consequences. I could lose my magic.” She heaved a sigh. “Why must gargoyles be so
honorable
?”

The gargoyles remained stone-faced.

“Fine,” she huffed. “It was only a game anyway.” She waved a hand and strode away, her heels clicking on the stone path.

“Bailey!”

I whirled around.

Piran lifted me off my feet and cradled me in his arms. In a flash, he was laying me down on the bed in my Silesian hotel room.

“You saved me,” I whispered, gazing at his glorious face.

His soft laughter washed over me. “No, you saved me. Drink this.” He pressed a cup to my lips, and I drank.

“Ack. What’s in this?”

“Charcoal and ginger. Rest now.”

I lay back on the pillow, too exhausted to argue. Other voices crowded for my attention, but I couldn’t keep my eyes open. Someone smeared something cold and wet on my skin. The pain began to fade.

I love you, Piran
. I needed to let him know as sleep overtook the edges of my consciousness.

He lightly kissed my lips. “I know. I love you too.”

I awoke with a start to morning light streaming through the window. In a panic, I called out Piran’s name.

A warm hand brushed the hair from my forehead. “I am here. I stayed with you through the night.”

Reassured, I groaned from stiffness. “I feel like I’m in a cast.”

He chuckled. “A concoction of dock leaves, fern, and mud. My mother did not want to rely on Fae magic and have it backfire.”

As I sat up, bits of gray, dried paste littered the bedsheet like scabs. I picked at a loose chunk on my arm.

He covered my hand with his own, stopping me. “A bath with Epsom salts and aloe will remove the healing mask and further soothe your skin.”

“What about you?” I asked, peering at him. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” he replied, his eyes darkening. “Shocked. Angry. Disappointed.” His expression softened. “But incredibly proud of
you
, my brave dragon-racer. Is there anything you cannot do?”

I grinned, cracking the mud paste on my cheeks. “Why couldn’t you fight her magic with your own?”

“Her enchantment had a binder. Because of our betrothal agreement, if I used magic in the Silesian kingdom, I would be bound to her forever until she released me.”

I stopped blinking. And breathing.

He squeezed my hand. “My mother thanks you for your bravery. She would tell you herself, but she and my father had to call upon the High Council regarding Chanel.” He paused. “I must join them now.”

“Wait. You’re leaving?”

“The situation in the Silesian kingdom is quite volatile, and this latest incident directly involves me. The High Council requires my presence.”

“I understand, but—”

He kissed the top of my head, one of the few places unaffected by the welts. Closing my eyes, I sighed in appreciation. Here I sat, filthy, sweaty, and covered in mud paste, and the love of my life still kissed me.

“When will I see you again?” I asked.

After a moment of silence, I opened my eyes. My heart sank.

I was alone.

Chapter 25

After a bath, I dried myself slowly. Only a trace of yesterday’s torturous visit to the Fae realm remained. I dressed and packed then sat on the edge of the bed, turning my phone over and over in my hands. No way to find out exactly what was happening with Piran. Why hadn’t he called?

A knock on my door set my stomach fluttering. Had he come to join me for the flight home? I took a deep breath and ran my hands through my wet hair, wishing I had something more dressy than jeans and a T-shirt. Oh well. He’d seen me in a lot worse.

Eagerly, I opened the door . . . and tried not to frown. “Um, hi.”

“Um, hi?” Daria’s eyebrows lifted. “Guess you were expecting someone else.”

I shrugged, my cheeks warming.

She laughed. “I understand. Caroline said your boyfriend was at the race.”

Boyfriend? If only I knew for sure. Did his father have other plans for him? Would Piran even be returning to the United States?

“Sorry, come in,” I said, remembering my manners.

Daria shook her head. “No time, but I did want to congratulate you on a solid race.”

“Thanks, except I only finished mid-field.”

She waved away my concern. “The crowds were outrageous. The crashes were horrendous. And the team van couldn’t get to you when you flatted. Considering all that happened, you did fine for your first professional race.”

A glimmer of hope sparked that she’d ask me to join Team Ibsy, but for some reason, my enthusiasm seemed stunted. Maybe because I hadn’t been able to get that scene out of my head of the rescue basket lowered over the guardrail. And the thought of racing in Europe with the crowds spilling onto the racecourse made me hyperventilate.

“A number of top women riders were taken out by the crashes,” Daria continued. “Therefore we need to see how you’ll handle yourself in a full field of pros.”

Nodding, I shoved my hands in my pockets. I’d have to prove myself anyway.

The Ibsy director stepped back from the door. “I’ll keep in touch and let you know when there’s another opportunity for you to race with us.”

“Sounds good.” I managed a professional smile to hide my conflicted feelings. “By the way, do you know what happened to the rider who went over the guardrail during the race?”

“She had to be airlifted to the hospital. That’s all I know.” Daria paused. “Bike racing isn’t for the faint-hearted, Bailey. I’m sure you’re aware of the risks in this sport.”

“Yeah, I am,” I said, scuffing my toe along the stained carpet. “I had a concussion from a crash back in June.”

“And you continued to race, which means you didn’t let it throw you. Right?”

It hadn’t
then
. Now I wasn’t so sure.

She gave me an understanding smile. “You can’t dwell on the risk of injury or it will mess with your confidence, and then fear becomes your worst enemy.” Daria glanced at her watch. “I need to go. Flight to New York leaves in three hours.”

I grabbed my suitcase and headed to the airport shuttle.

Waiting in line to board my flight back to Chicago, I received a text message from Daria. Team Ibsy had been selected to ride the Tour of Qatar. Another message from her followed. The tour only allowed six riders per team. Would I be willing to serve as an alternate?

Staring at the phone screen, I laced my hand around the strap on my knapsack. An
alternate
. No guarantee I’d even get to race. And not racing meant no money. Were all life career decisions this difficult? All I
did
know was that if I didn’t find my racing mojo again, my career could be over before it had even begun.

I set my phone on airplane mode, but by the time we touched down in Chicago, I still hadn’t made a decision about the Tour of Qatar. For the past four years, all I’d thought about was becoming a professional rider. Now I wondered if I had the necessary competitive edge. Could I handle the pressure? Without an offer from a big-name European team, I’d end up flying from race to race, sleeping in cheap hotels, and serving as a domestique. And for what? To risk my life to ensure someone else won the glory?

Exiting the airport terminal, I found my ride waiting. “Dad!” I exclaimed, surprised.

He wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “Hey, kiddo. How was the race?”

“Good, I guess.” I averted my gaze, not wanting to talk about the bike race in Silesia. And I definitely wasn’t mentioning the dragon race.

Dad loaded my luggage into the trunk of his car. Thankfully, he didn’t push the subject. “Interested in going out for breakfast?”

“Sure.” I buckled my seat belt, and we headed out of the airport lot.

“How long will you be home?”

I jiggled my foot and stared out the car window. “Don’t know. A few days at least. Maybe longer.”

“Hmm? Going back to Colorado?”

“Not right away. I mean . . .” I sighed, twisting my hands in my lap.

Dad patted my thigh. “The only way you know if a job is right for you is to try it. No law says you have to stay in that job though. If you want to race, you should race. And if you no longer want to race, that’s fine too.”

“I just need some time to think about what I want.”

“Well, right now, kiddo, I want eggs and bacon. And a pile of pancakes dripping with butter and syrup.”

I laughed. Only my dad could remind me of what was really important. “I love you, Dad.”

He cast me a sideways glance. “Not sure where that came from, but I’ll take it.”

After breakfast, he dropped me off at home. Since Mom was at work and Kelsi was attending an art show, I walked over to Harbor Bike and Ski.

Mike, the manager, waved. “Bailey! Great to see you. How’s the racing going?”

“Great,” I replied, realizing it was more of a rhetorical question. “How’s everything here?”

He opened a carton of tires and slapped the counter in frustration. “These are the wrong ones. Who ordered these?” He gestured to an overflowing pile of receipts. “Any chance you’re in town for a while? We could really use your help around here.”

“No problem,” I said, stifling a giggle at his ineptitude. No doubt he’d ordered the wrong tires himself. “Let me sign in.”

When I opened the door to the back room, familiar laughter reached my ears. Nick and Tyler were shooting tools off the workbenches with nerf gun pellets.

“We’re working,” Tyler said, reloading his gun.

“Uh-huh,” I replied, kicking a nerf pellet on the floor. “Mike should fire your lazy asses.”

Nick grinned. “Look who’s talking like an adult.”

I jotted my name on the sign-in sheet.

“Whoa,” Tyler said. “You’re working here again?”

“Well, apparently,
somebody
has to work here.”

A volley of nerf pellets rained over my head, and I ducked, squealing. Just like old times.

Finally, I got away and grabbed the receipt box, but by five in the afternoon, the shop seemed pretty quiet, so I signed out.

“I’m heading out too,” Nick said. “Want to catch a bite to eat?”

“Thanks, but I plan to hang with the family tonight.”

“Piran also?”

I drew in a sharp breath. I hadn’t said anything about Piran.

“I saw this,” Nick replied to my obvious twitching. He whipped out his phone and brought up a web page.

“Since when do you follow celebrity blogs?”

He shrugged and scrolled down. The headline jumped off the screen. “PRINCESS CHANEL DUMPED BY FAE PRINCE.” And there in vivid color was a picture of Piran hugging me after the Silesia Festival race, with a sulking Chanel standing off to the side.

“You’re famous, Bails!” He slipped the phone back into his pocket. “But you probably don’t want to read the post comments, you little home-wrecker.”

Great. Dissed by Chanel wannabes who had no idea what the fashionista Fae princess was really like.

“Piran had to go back to Sava,” I said as Nick walked with me out of the shop. “Not sure how for how long.”

He arched an eyebrow.

“Come on, Nick. Piran’s a prince. He has a certain responsibility to his kingdom. That’s just something I have to accept.”

“And have you?”

“Working on it.” I gave my friend a half-hearted smile.

“Give me a call if you want to hang out.”

I nodded and headed home.

After dinner, I headed up to my bedroom and lay on my bed, checking my phone. Still no messages from Piran. I gritted my teeth. Not knowing where we stood made me want to jump out of my skin. I knew he loved me, but was our relationship moving forward or backward?

I clutched my pillow to my chest. Everything in my life seemed stuck in a holding pattern. Should I take Daria’s offer and fly to Qatar on the off chance I’d get to race? Should I return to Colorado and continue training with the Lady Spinners? I bit my lip. Maybe I wasn’t meant to be a professional racer. Maybe I should just stay at home and work at the bike shop. Then again, that option would be off the table if Mom and Dad moved. No way could I afford an apartment in Evanston.

Exhausted, I dozed off until a screech awakened me. My eyes flew open the moment Kelsi plopped onto my bed, sending my cell phone tumbling to the floor.

“You’ll never guess who texted me!”

Yawning, I retrieved my phone. “Zac Efron? Selena Gomez? The Bachelor?”

“Get real. Come on. Now guess.” She looked like she would split a seam any second and multi-colored excitement would spill out her sides like candy from a piñata.

I tapped my chin with my index finger, pretending to give her question serious thought. “Hmm…The president of the United States? Wait, do you think he even texts?”

She rolled her eyes. “No. Tolmin texted me!”

I bolted upright, all pretense evaporating. “What? What’d he say?”

“He’s in New York, awaiting a connecting flight to Chicago.”

I scooted off the bed. “Piran too?”

“Didn’t say.” She hesitated. “He hasn’t contacted you?”

My throat tight, I shook my head and checked my cell phone. A missed-call notification blinked. I’d slept through his call. I listened to Piran’s voice message, and the sound of his lush, warm accent left me breathless.

“Well?” Kelsi prompted. “Wait, never mind. You’re turning pink. I don’t want to know!”

Giggling, I waved her out of my room. I needed to get ready to see my boyfriend.

I stepped off the hotel elevator and turned the corner to find Piran waiting for me, a wide grin on his face. He grabbed me around the waist and effortlessly lifted me into his arms. I couldn’t contain my delighted squeal.

“Get a room,” someone in the hallway said.

Laughing, Piran carried me to his hotel room, and together we fumbled for his key card. Once inside, he kicked the door closed.

“Now what?” he asked with a sly expression, his eyes sparkling.

“Well, I think you should put me down first.”

“Ah, yes.” He gently set me on the bed, but didn’t let me go.

I stared up at his exquisite face. The touch of his hands on my skin set my heart racing. He licked his delicious lips, and my breath caught in my throat.
Yes . . .

Then he pounced on me and tickled me under my arms.

“Noooo,” I yelped, slapping at his hands. “You meanie!” Flailing on the bed, I snorted in laughter. “Please stop. Please stop!”

“You are my captive,” he declared, showing no mercy. “And this is your punishment.” He leaned over as if to kiss me, but instead reached down and tickled the back of my knee.

“Ahhh!” I rolled hard to the left, and sent us both tumbling off the bed. Landing on him, I giggled, and he kissed the tip of my nose.

“Punishment, huh?” I teased, digging my fingers into
his
armpits. He howled, and I squeezed his hips between my knees to hold him in place. I leaned over him, letting my hair sweep across his neck. “I got your punishment right here.”

His eyes widened, then he grinned.

I slipped off my T-shirt and unhooked my bra, and tossed them aside. Giving him my best sexy pout, I ran my hands over my breasts.

His gaze lowered to my chest. “You clearly do not understand the meaning of punishment.”

He attempted to replace my hands with his own, and I smacked them away. “No, no. You can look, but you can’t touch.”

“What?” A deep crease formed between his eyebrows.

My sexy pout turned into an evil laugh. “Who doesn’t understand the meaning of punishment?”

Awareness registered in his expression, and the corner of his mouth twitched. “Two can play that game, Miss Meyers.”

“Bring it on,” I taunted, wiggling my hips.

But then I felt his hardness beneath me, and a surge of desire replaced any further thoughts of payback or games. My skin tingled. My lips parted.

We both noticed the change.

“You are so beautiful,” he said, his low and husky voice driving me crazy with need.

I inhaled his luscious scent as if I could somehow draw in his essence as well. His hands gripped my hips, and I moaned, rocking on him slightly.

“Touch me,” I whispered, gazing down at him.

He tapped his fingers against my jeans, his mouth curving into that sexy wry smile of his. “I thought you said that was off-limits.”

“Nothing is off-limits,” I replied breathlessly.

His hands slowly traveled up my bare waist. Soooo slowly. A shiver of electricity rippled beneath my skin.

“Yes,” I urged.

“Patience,” he murmured, his fingertips brushing the curve under my breasts. He gently caressed and stroked me. “Ah, Bailey. The more I get of you, the more I want.”

Oh God.