BEAST: A Bad Boy Marine Romance (17 page)

I
straightened my medals
, and put my arm around Isa’s back. Six months ago, I doubted that I would ever even find a date to take to the ball. Now I was here attending with the most breathtaking woman, inside and out. And better yet, she loved me.

The place was swarmed with secret service men, another career I’d wanted to consider after being a sniper. But I refused to focus on what couldn’t be.

A bunch of Devil Dogs greeted us, including my best friends, Beau, Diego, and Trace. After catching up with them, Isa and I posed for formal pictures.

The commandant walked over. I’d met him once when I’d been awarded my medal. “Good evening, sir. I’d like you to meet my girlfriend, Isa Cuesta.”

“Good evening, Sergeant. Nice to meet you, miss. Sergeant Williams, the President has requested your presence. Please join us.”

We were escorted to the back table, where the President was sitting with a few other high-ranking Marines. He stood up when he saw me. “Sergeant Williams, it’s lovely to see you again. And who is your beautiful date.”

I shook his hand. “This is my girlfriend, Isa Cuesta.”

The President kissed Isa’s hand. “It’s an honor Mr. President.”

“The honor is mine. Sergeant Williams tells me you’re a dancer. I hope to see you dance tonight.”

She bit her lip. “Oh, I’d love to. I’m so happy to be here.”

The ball was about to start so we were seated for the Commandant’s Birthday Message. A video played, showing the history of the Marine Corps. I was interviewed in the reel, cringing when I saw myself on the high definition screen.

“I’m Sergeant Grady Williams. I’m a Marine. And Marines will do anything for each other. Semper Fidelis. Always Faithful. I didn’t think I was going to die that day, I knew I was going to. But if I could’ve saved one life, I knew my sacrifice was worth it.”

Isa’s eyes welled with tears, and she clutched my hand. Her fingers looked so delicate placed in my white gloves.

The video ended, and there was the cutting of the Marine Corps cake, as well as a presentation recognizing the oldest Marine, a Korean War vet who was 85, and the youngest Marine, a 17 year old private.

I was having a blast, drinking, eating our catered dinner, seeing all my friends again.

Once dinner was over, an announcer took the stage.

Nerves overtook me. I had another surprise for Isa.

“And now we have a special treat. Sergeant Williams please take the floor.”

“What?” she turned to me and I stood up and led Isa out to face the audience.

The sweat dripped down my face and I clung to Isa. Strobe lights, people packed into the audience like sardines. I spied my friends at their tables, dressed in their dress blues, clapping their hands manically. Man, what had I done?

“And now, dancing a slow foxtrot to “Tale as Old as Time,” Sergeant Grady Williams and Isa Cuesta.

The audience roared. The blue dress hugged her incredible curves. And I didn’t need a mask or a costume. I was a beast. Her beast.

She back led me through the song as I tried to focus on doing heel leads and keeping the rhythm slow, quick, quick, slow. I hated to admit it, but I actually enjoyed dancing—the pressure of Isa’s tight body on mine, the softness of her skin in my scarred hands as we moved as one to the music. I was in complete control. Of the dance, of her, and of my life.

After a few more steps, she twirled off me. My Marines stood up, their claps and catcalls deafening.

She kissed my lips. “I can’t believe you danced with me.”

I lowered my hands to her waist and kissed her back. I reached into my breast pocket, and pulled out a ring. I had a question to ask her.

B
efore I could even realize
what Grady was doing he’d dropped to one knee in front of me, holding a ring. I thought I was going to faint.

“I love you, Isa. I want you to be my wife. Will you marry me?”

“
Ay dios mío,
Grady. Yes!”

He picked me up and kissed me. Applause rang out through the banquet room.

I stared at my ring, a beautiful oval-cut diamond set in rose gold.

Rose.

From my beast.

My beast. My prince. My hero.

My fiancé.

F
or my final
act in the Marine Corps, I married my lovely bride in a traditional Marine Corps wedding, my buddies creating the arch with their swords.

After Isa and I were married, our lives had blended together seamlessly. She’d re-enrolled in her senior year at UCSD. I found a job working with wounded warriors, men and women just like myself. It was great to know that I could inspire those who felt as desperate and despondent as I once had.

Money would be tight, but we were both fine living on a budget. Between Isa’s job teaching dancing, and my income from my job and the VA, we would make ends meet.

Pasha had been arrested and charged with kidnapping and sexual assault. Because he had no priors he pled it down to probation. I’d always known there was something seriously off about that guy.

Turns out, he had other pending allegations of sexual assault with other dance students. They had been afraid to file a report against a TV star. He must’ve counted on Isa being an easy target. But she pointed the gun at his head. Isa was strong and beautiful.

I would never stop missing Rafael, but I finally found some comfort, knowing he would want me to be happy, and that he was guarding the gates of heaven.

Almost a year after we met, I looked out the window of our apartment and heard the sounds of a party from the local frat house, where Isa and I had met.

“Hey, there’s a party down there. Looks like some superhero theme. Would you like to go?”

Isa came over to me, wrapped her arms around my neck as I squeezed her ass.

“I’d love to. But this time, let’s go as the Joker and Harley Quinn. You don’t need a mask.”

The End

A
LANA ALBERTSON IS
the President of RWA’s Contemporary Romance Chapter. She holds a M.Ed. from Harvard and a BA in English from Stanford. A recovering professional ballroom dancer, she lives in San Diego, California, with her husband, two young sons, and five dogs. When she’s not saving dogs from high kill shelters through her rescue
Pugs N Roses
, she can be found watching episodes of UnREAL, Homeland, or Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders: Making the Team.

For more information:

• @alanaalbertson
  
• authoralanaalbertson
  

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