by Lyz Kelley
“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.
My heartbeat pulsed heavy in my head.
I clenched his T-shirt, and within seconds, the shirt lay discarded on the floor. Desperate to explore the arcs and lines of his body, I ran my hands over every inch of his warm skin. His heavy-lidded eyes flared as my fingers approached the waistband of his jeans.
Together we stood and tore off the rest of our clothes in a rush.
He pressed me up against a wall, his breaths rough and ragged. Holding the back of my head, he kissed me. Deeply. Passionately. Lightning raced up my spine.
I couldn’t think. I couldn’t move. I didn’t want to.
His hips flexed against me, and sensation spiked between my thighs. “Now, Piran,” I begged. “Please.”
He shook his head and kissed my neck. His hands trailed down my breasts to my centerline, followed soon by his mouth, his touch transporting me to another time and place.
I sighed in pleasure. Now this was a punishment worth waiting for.
Resting beside Piran on the bed, I stroked his chest. “Would you really have abdicated your title as Prince of Sava?”
A sad gray washed thro
ugh his eyes. “Yes. I still might.”
“Because of me?”
He hedged. “I am not the best choice for the throne. My cousin Sared is far more suited to a life of lordship and ceremony. Even my second cousin Malija would be better than I. Perhaps the throne will pass from my father to my child or grandchild. But that is in the future.” He cupped my chin and looked into my eyes. “What is important now is that my parents understand how deeply I care for you.”
I let him kiss my neck, savoring the warmth of his breath on my bare skin. “What will you do now? Will you return to Sava?”
“No. Find a new apartment and return to the university. I love America, and Chicago is a wonderful city.” He drew back. “What are your plans?”
The hesitation in his voice cut me to the bone, and I sighed. On the cusp of a professional cycling career, and yet unsure if I wanted to take it. Was I so weak I’d quit my dream at the first sign of difficulty?
“You are not weak,” Piran said. “You are the strongest person I know.” He squinted down to where I was tracing letters on his abs. “You love sloths?”
“No, I didn’t write that,” I said with a laugh.
He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close. “I love you too.”
His whispered words lingered in my ear, and right then, I made the decision not to be an alternate rider for the Tour of Qatar. With Piran back in Chicago, I didn’t want to leave the country for three weeks.
But I wasn’t sure what I did want. Could I pursue a professional cycling career and still be with the man I loved? Could a prince of the largest Fae realm honor his kingdom and still be with the human woman he loved?
Wasn’t there a way for us to have it all?
Chapter 26
The following day I called Shannon and for some reason asked about Jose. Maybe I felt sorry for the guy because I finally had a glimpse of where he was coming from. Taking care of his sick mom, doping just to win race money, and banned by the U.S. Cycling Federation. With a broken leg, he’d be out of the racing business for a while, sanctioned or dark Fae.
“Jose is good,” Shannon replied. “Been at the studio practicing.”
“Studio?”
“I forgot to tell you,” she said excitedly. “The local cable news channel hired him to be a sports commentator for dark Fae races. No more doping!”
“Wow. He should have broken his leg sooner.”
She laughed. “No kidding. Hey, want to go to the lake today?”
“Sure. I need to work on blending my cycling tan lines. I have the whitest thighs in the world.”
“Me too. I’ll ride over to your house.”
“Sounds good.”
I rummaged through my dresser and found a bikini. Squinting at myself in the mirror, I tugged on the suit. Hmm … not too bad. The muscular look was growing on me. I covered the bikini with a pair of denim shorts and a camisole, then shoved a few things into a messenger bag and slung it over my shoulder.
Since my road bike was still in Colorado, I dragged my dad’s virtually unused mountain bike from the garage.
Shannon swung by fifteen minutes later, and we headed south.
On our way to the lake, three guys on bikes rode up beside us.
“Nice wheels,” one of the guys said to Shannon. He smirked. “Kinda overkill, don’t you think? That’s a racing bike, sweetheart.”
“Really?” she drawled. I could literally hear her teeth grind.
“You race?” I asked the guys. I’d never seen them before.
“We compete in triathlons,” the thinnest of the three replied, squaring his shoulders, not like that could possibly make him seem tough. “You know, swim, bike, run.”
“Cool. So which of the three is your weak sport?”
He blinked. “Well, uh …”
“Wanna bet it’s cycling?” Shannon asked me.
The third guy pointed to the distinct cycling tan line on my thighs and groaned in realization. “If you’re a road racer, how come you’re riding that piece of junk?”
“It’s my dad’s. My road bike is in Colorado.”
“How about a short race along the lake path?” the first guy asked, his cocky expression conveying his confidence that Shannon and I would be left in their dust.
I resisted the urge to scoff. What was it with guys challenging female athletes?
“Sure,” Shannon replied, a gleam in her eye.
After we followed them onto the lake path, cocky-guy waved us forward. “Ladies first.”
A look of disgust crossed Shannon’s face. She lifted off her saddle, not even bothering to pretend to give the triathletes a fighting chance. “Bye, bye, boys.”
My dad’s old mountain bike, while heavy, didn’t stop me from keeping pace with her. Not surprisingly, the guys gave chase. The skinny one actually had some speed in his legs and hung on my back wheel. But I blocked his every attempt to pass me. If he wanted a challenge, I’d give him one.
“First one to the next water fountain gets twenty bucks!” Shannon cried, pumping her fist in the air.
“Serious?” I asked.
She laughed. “Think you can beat me in that clunker?”
“Oh, it’s on,” I replied, slamming down on the mountain bike’s thick pedals.
But she’d already got the jump on me and sped off. Then skinny-guy pulled a slingshot move and whipped past me! What? No way.
I cranked up the strokes, and my dad’s poor bike groaned. “You can do this,” I said, patting the steel top tube. Taking advantage of the bike’s thick, nubby tires, I rode off the paved path and onto the gravel. A quick glance over my shoulder revealed the two other triathletes struggling, but showing no signs of giving up. “Come on guys,” I yelled. “Pick up the pace.”
Cocky-guy flipped me the finger. I laughed and pedaled faster.
Skirting ahead of skinny-guy, I slung my body down low and laid it on to catch Shannon. Once I did, we edged wheel to wheel as we passed the water fountain together.
“Yes!” I shouted, sliding my bike into the grass.
Shannon followed me, a big grin on her face. “Photo finish!”
Skinny-guy dismounted and clutched his chest. “Whew. I haven’t ridden that fast in a long time.”
The other two triathletes caught up and dismounted.
“I stand corrected,” cocky-guy said, wiping sweat from his brow. “You girls are badass. Whadda say we hang out this weekend? Maybe hit up a party?”
“Sorry, we’ll be busy,” Shannon replied, examining her fingernails.
“All weekend?”
She pursed her lips. “Yup. All weekend.”
Skinny-guy laughed. “Oooh. Burned twice, Haiden.”
“Shut up, asshole.” Haiden mounted his bike, and the other two guys bent over laughing.
Skinny-guy winked at us. “A swim race next time?”
“Sure,” I said with a smile. Fat chance in hell, but he didn’t have to know I could barely survive in a kiddie pool. Shannon and I waved them off and propped our bikes against a tree.
Laying on the grass, soaking up the warm sun and lake breeze, I realized Piran was right—there was no place like Chicago. But staying meant I’d have little chance of pursuing my cycling dreams. As much as I loved Piran, I couldn’t squelch my competitive drive or deny the thrill of racing. The impromptu contest against the triathletes had chased away the fear I’d felt in the Silesia pro race. Well, at least chased it to a distant memory.
Even if I had lost a bit of my mojo, the desire to win still flowed through my veins. Except I had no idea where to race. Professional festival races in Europe with their lack of crowd control were crazy. I would not do that again. I could return to Colorado and continue training with the Lady Spinners. Maybe still have a chance of being selected for the U.S. National Team. Even though there were only a few pro races in the states, I could gain experience before a big-name European team called.
I twiddled a blade of grass between my thumbs
. If I gave up racing to be with Piran, I might only end up resenting him. But how would he feel if I returned to Colorado? Would he be satisfied with a long-distance relationship held together with phone calls, texts, and facetime?
Lake waves sloshed over the rocky shore, and I shielded my eyes from the sun with my hand. If only life came with a magic eight ball.
“You ready to leave?” Shannon asked, pulling me from my thoughts. “I’m turning into a lobster here.”
At least my burn would turn into a tan, unlike Shannon. She’d just get more freckles. We straddled our bikes and enjoyed an easy ride back to Evanston. Shannon veered off toward her house, and I headed home where I helped Kelsi set the table for dinner.
While we ate, Dad couldn’t stop smiling. He even ate Mom’s broccoli casserole without complaining. As she washed the dishes, he finally spilled. “I have good news. We’re staying here. My job is not being transferred.”
Kelsi jumped up and hugged him. “Thank you. Thank you.”
“Hey, thank my boss,” Dad replied with a laugh.
“I have to call Noelle and let her know!” Kelsi tore out of the kitchen and bounded up the stairs.
Her face damn near glowing, Mom set her hand on Dad’s shoulder. He gave her ‘the look’. Eww.
“I think I’ll go upstairs too,” I said and made a hasty departure.
Once in my bedroom, I plopped on my bed, and my phone rang. I recognized Kate’s number from the Lady Spinners in Colorado. Serendipity? I hit the Answer key. “Hi, Kate.”
“Hi, Bailey,” she replied. “I heard you did great in your first pro race in Europe.”
“Hey, thanks. There were a few rough moments, but at least I finished.”
“Daria told me you wouldn’t be joining Team Ibsy for the Tour of Qatar. Will you be returning to the Lady Spinners?”
“Yes!”
The words were out of my mouth before I lost my nerve. Before I gave up on my cycling dream forever. Re-joining the Lady Spinners would put at least that particular aspect of my life into place.
But now came the hard part—telling Piran.
After I disconnected the call with Kate, I tapped his name on my screen.
He answered on the first ring.
Walking to the bike shop the following morning, frustrated and unsure of my future with my Guardian prince, I tripped on a curb and dropped my overly-priced cappuccino on the ground. The top popped off, spilling the entire contents into the street. I stared up at the sky. Really?
