Page 1 of Melt My Heart: Denver Warlords

Chapter One

STARLA

The world fell away as I launched into my triple axel. Three and a half rotations in the air, my body a tight pencil spinning through space. For that suspended moment, there was nothing but the whistle of cold air against my face, the perfect control of every muscle. Then my blade struck the ice with a satisfying slice, and I extended my free leg behind me in a flawless landing.

Perfection.

My lungs burned from exertion as I transitioned into a camel spin, my body parallel to the ice, one leg extended straight behind me. I held the position with practiced precision, countingsilently in my head.One, two, three...The familiar rhythm of my routine was as comforting as it was demanding.

"Beautiful extension, Starla!" Coach Vivian called from the boards. "Now into the step sequence!"

I flowed into the intricate footwork that had taken months to master, each edge clean, each turn exact. The Denver Olympic Training Center's massive arena was empty except for Vivian and me, our early morning sessions a sacred ritual I'd maintained for years. The ice was freshly resurfaced, gleaming under the harsh lights, offering the perfect canvas for my art.

This was my sanctuary. My battlefield. My everything.

When I finally struck my ending pose—right arm extended toward the ceiling, left arm wrapped around my waist, chin lifted in defiance—sweat trickled down my spine despite the frigid air.

"Time?" I called out, barely winded.

"Four minutes, twelve seconds," Vivian replied, checking her stopwatch. "Two seconds faster than yesterday."

I frowned, skating toward her. "That's too fast. The music won't match if I rush it."

Vivian Brandenburg, former Olympic silver medalist and the most demanding coach in the country, regarded me with narrowed eyes. At sixty-two, her salt-and-pepper hair pulled into a severe bun, she still carried herself with the posture of a champion. "Then control your tempo. Every element was technically perfect, but you're still skating like you're being chased."

"I am being chased," I replied. "By everyone who wants Olympic gold as badly as I do."

A rare smile tugged at her thin lips. "And that's why you'll win. But first…" She handed me a towel and my water bottle. "We need to discuss something."

I wiped the perspiration from my forehead, dreading her tone. Vivian only used that voice when she was about to throw a wrench into my meticulously planned schedule. "What is it?"

"The Colorado Sports Foundation is hosting a charity exhibition next month. It's for their youth sports programs."

I took a long sip of water. "And you volunteered me."

It wasn't a question. These charity events were part of the deal—good publicity, good for sponsors, good for the Olympic committee to see me supporting community initiatives. I'd done dozens before.

"Yes, but this one's different." Vivian tapped something on her tablet and turned it toward me. "It's a paired exhibition. They're matching figure skaters with different types of athletes for unique performances."

I skimmed the information, my heart sinking. "Paired? With whom? I don't have time to train with a hockey player who can barely skate backwards, Vivian. Olympic qualifiers are in six months."

"It's not a hockey player."

Something in her voice made me look up sharply. "Then who?"

"Gunnar Hayes."

The name hit me like a physical blow. I nearly dropped my water bottle. "The speed skater? Blaze Hayes? Are you kidding me?"

"He's exceptionally talented…"

"He's a disaster waiting to happen!" I cut her off, something I rarely did with Vivian. "I've seen him compete. He's reckless, impulsive, completely unpredictable. Half the time I think he's making up his strategy as he goes along."

"Which is why this pairing will be interesting," Vivian said calmly. "Your precision and his...energy...will create something unique."

I stared at her in disbelief. "This is a joke, right? Please tell me you're joking."

"The event organizers specifically requested you two as the headliners. Both your brothers support the foundation, so it makes sense."

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