BEAST: A Bad Boy Marine Romance Read Free

Superman and Wonder Woman exchanged heated words in the kitchen. Spider-Man played a friendly game of beer pong with Green Goblin. Ha! Apparently no one did research on their characters’ enemies and allies. This sucked—my hopes of meeting someone interesting were dashed as I took in the usual “let’s get wasted” party scene. The cacophony rang through my ears, and the scent of weed, sweat, and beer wafted through the house. I stepped out to the brown and patchy back lawn, no doubt a casualty of California’s drought, and inhaled the eucalyptus-scented air. A DJ spun tracks while a bunch of coeds splashed around in the pool, Wolverine grilled burgers, and there was a Marvel versus DC superhero volleyball game going on. Still not my idea of a good time.
    I retreated to a corner of the yard overlooking the majestic canyon, away from the chaos, and nursed my drink.
    After people watching for a bit, a green flash caught my eye. No, not San Diego’s famous sky streak. Opening the sliding doors from the frat house was a man wearing a mask—his skin was tinted green, and he wore ripped purple shorts.
    The Hulk.
    At first glance, I was convinced he had one of those muscle costumes on, padded fabric to make him appear to be strapping. But no, oh no. This man was massive—arms twice the size of any other man’s at this party, broad shoulders, rock-solid abs. But unlike the Hulk, this imposter’s entire body was covered with tattoos, which were hard to decipher since they were obscured with body paint. I tried to avert my gaze but I couldn’t—I was drawn to him, like a magnetic force. He oozed confidence, the way he stood there assessing the environment, like he owned this house, when he was clearly out of place. Who was this man? No way he was a frat brother.
    Was he looking at me? Don’t be silly, Isa. He was probably just scanning the full scene to see who would be the lucky girl to go home with him tonight.
    I volunteer as tribute! I snickered to myself . Too bad this wasn’t a Hunger Games party.
    A few girls stopped to check him out, not that I blamed them. He looked at the ground, and his hand reached into a rose bush where he plucked a single red bud. Wow, that was fast; he was probably already hitting on one of the girls inside. I felt like I was on one of those stupid Bachelor shows—hundreds of desperate women, one hot guy, and nothing to base any romantic connection on besides a fleeting first impression.
    I finally drew the strength to turn away and wipe the drool from my face. One long gulp of my drink and I would be fine. But seconds later, a looming shadow appeared at my feet, and the intoxicating smell of cedar, vanilla, and cinnamon made me realize I wasn’t alone.
    “Welcome aboard, Russian,” a deep voice said in a sexy drawl.
    I looked up and the Hulk hovered above me—the bloom in one hand and a beer in the other.
    Ay dios mío , he was breathtaking. Well, a mask covered his face, but his body was incredible. Incredible Hulk indeed. He could be the Hulk’s stunt double—no special effects needed.
    I steadied my nerves and downed my drink. “That’s not Hulk’s line. Iron Man said that.”
    He let out a laugh, or maybe it was a growl—the sound was muffled under that mask.
    “ Avengers fan? I’ve been searching for a Black Widow all night. Here, this is for you.” He handed me the rose.
    My belly quivered, pleasantly surprised by the sweet gesture. The only time in my life I’d ever received flowers was after a big dance performance, and those were from my father.
    “Thanks, that’s very sweet of you.” His tattoos were in focus now—the first one I could decipher was a huge USMC emblem on his right biceps. Whoa, a Marine—well, that explained his body. There was a quote in Latin, Semper Fidelis.
    “Nice tattoo, Devil Dog. Always faithful?”
    The Hulk sat next to me, his green skin shone in the moonlight. “Yes, ma’am. Do you speak Latin? Or have you dated a Marine?”
    I