Heroes Ever After Boxset: Books 1-3

by Alana Albertson

  I needed him. Not as my lover. But as the only person who’d ever really believed in me.

  With his help and support, I could pass. Without lowering the SEALs strict standards.

  A lump rose in my throat. But I didn’t have him anymore. I had to rely on myself.

  Erik

  We were two weeks into First Phase, and only forty-one members of the class remained.

  One of them was Aria.

  But she wasn’t in the clear yet. Hell week was two days away.

  And she still hadn’t been able to complete the “O” course.

  Every day I trained her with her classmates.

  And every night, I watched her from my bedroom window, trying to jump on Dirty Name.

  It was a bit past midnight. The class had to be up at four in the morning. But as I gazed out my window, I saw a small figure under the fluorescent lights, attempting to overcome her hurdle.

  At this point, it was mental. She was the most exceptional performer in our class by far.

  I knocked back a whiskey. One of the reasons I’d been so against women in BUD/S was I thought we would have to lower our standards.

  But Aria had shown me that was far from the case. She hadn’t just met our standards; she had exceeded them.

  The goal of BUD/S wasn’t just to haze these men. It was to ensure that they could succeed at war.

  Deep down, we wanted all the candidates to succeed.

  So why was I being such an asshole to Aria?

  Was it because she hurt me? Humiliated me?

  Or was it because I didn’t think she belonged here?

  Kyle had ordered me to help her. The Admiral wanted her to succeed.

  If I was truly the only person who could help her pass this hurdle, why was I holding her back? If it were any other candidate, I’d help.

  I hurriedly dressed and put my boots back on. I ran back to base, flashed my ID, and made my way to the “O” course.

  Aria was squatting on the first log of Dirty Name. She was filthy and battered, but I still thought she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.

  She turned as I walked up to her. “Please, I know I’m not supposed to be practicing. Don’t kick me off the course. This is my last chance. I’m so close, I—”

  I put my hand over her mouth. “I’m not here to make you stop. We’re going to do this together. It’s just like the bike, champ. You got this.”

  “Champ?” Her lips trembled, and she blinked rapidly. “You’re helping me? You have no idea how much this means to me.”

  “I’m not helping you because of our past—I’m helping you because it’s my job. I’m your instructor. That’s all it is. Don’t speak. Watch me.”

  I ran back and did a running start. Then I jumped off the log like I had done a thousand times before and landed on my waist over the hurdle, using my forearms to propel me.

  I returned to Aria.

  “I’ve done that. It doesn’t work. I just can’t get it.”

  I grasped her shoulders. “Yes, you can. Don’t say that. I believe in you. You have completed both the ocean swim and run in time. You’re an Olympian. You will do this now. We’re going to do it together.”

  She nodded.

  We ran back into the sand, and I held her hand. A jolt shot to my cock. Her touch always ignited me.

  “One, two, three, go.” I dropped her hand.

  We ran together, but I stepped out of the way. She leaped up and pulled her body up with her forearms.

  She started to struggle, but I cheered her on. “That’s it, champ. You got it! Pull yourself up. Don’t look down.”

  She wrapped her body around the bar using her legs and did it again on the higher hurdle, before jumping down.

  “You did it!”

  I ran toward her and scooped her up into my arms. Before I could stop myself, our lips met. I kissed her despite my vow that this was just business and she was no different than any other candidate. We were out in the open for the whole base to see. My mind wanted to stop but my lips didn’t listen. I grabbed the back of her neck and ravished her mouth, claiming it for mine.

  For now.

  Forever.

  She kissed me back furiously, her hands pressing against my chest before I found the strength to pull away.

  “Erik, I can’t thank you enough. I couldn’t have done it without you. You don’t know how much this means to me. I love you.”

  At that moment, I knew that I still loved her.

  That I had never stopped.

  And I refused to ever let her go.

  “I love you, too.”

  Tears stained her cheeks. I hadn’t seen her cry once during BUD/S until now.

  I looked at her face in the moonlight, and I finally realized that she was going to make it. I was staring at the first female Navy SEAL.

  And I was proud to be her man.

  I lifted her chin up. “Stop it, champ. SEALs don’t cry.”

  Epilogue

  A year after I first met Erik at the pool in the Del, I stood amongst my classmates. Of the eighty-one people who had started BUD/S, only sixteen remained.

  And I was one of them. I had done it. I was the first female BUD/S graduate.

  My face was plastered on every magazine cover. Gold medal Olympian turned GI Jane. I was livid at the news coverage. The success of being an operator depended on my anonymity. But I knew that Erik and I would get through it together.

  Erik was no longer my instructor. After our public kiss on the “O” course, Erik had been sent to Indoc until I was through with BUD/S. And I had been training all day, so we had agreed not to see each other until I graduated.

  But unlike before, we had no doubts about our relationship. We had vowed that night I conquered Dirty Name to be together no matter what the costs.

  And I graduated today.

  I dressed in my crisp white Naval uniform and prepared to get my diploma.

  The commander of the base, shook each of our hands, one by one.

  “Congratulations Class 334. I welcome all of you to the Teams. Hooyah and well done.”

  I looked at the audience and saw that my mom was sitting next to Erik’s mom and sister. Isa and Grady were also there. I hadn’t spoken to my mom in months, and I didn’t want to share my happy day with her. But today I would focus on my blessings and not my family drama.

  I made my way down the line and shook all my instructors’ hands. Erik was waiting for me at the end. Our relationship now had become an open secret. Even so, we didn’t advertise the fact we were together.

  I stood in front of Erik and offered him my hand. He took it, kissed it and knelt in front of me.

  Oh my god.

  “Champ, you earned your Trident today. But I’ve got another piece of metal for you to wear.” He reached into his pocket and grabbed a small velvet box. He popped it open, and I gasped when I saw a gorgeous diamond ring. “Will you marry me?”

  “Yes, yes, yes! I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  And I knew that he truly loved me. He’d believed in me when no one else had. He’d helped me overcome my fears. He was a strong man who wasn’t emasculated by my success.

  And I finally believed that I deserved him.

  He placed the ring on my finger and then lifted me up into his arms.

  “Now, you’ll always be part of my world.”

  THE END

  Thank you for reading The Mermaid and The Triton!

  I hope you loved Erik and Aria.

  Would you like to read a bonus epilogue about Erik & Aria?

  Click here:

  Catch up with them and meet their friends, Ryan and Giselle in The Princess and The SEAL—A Navy SEAL Royal Romance Princess and the Frog Retelling!

  One Click Now!: Book 3 in the Heroes Ever After Series

  The Princess and The SEAL

  A Navy SEAL Little Mermaid Retelling

  “She’s a princess, and I’m a frogman. If I kiss her, I’l
l turn into a prince.”

  A love affair. Two weeks in Normandy.

  She’s a classy princess; I’m a dirty SEAL.

  She’s been promised to another man; I’m married to the Teams.

  She’s willing to enter a loveless marriage for her country; I’m ready to die for my homeland.

  Until I fall in love with her.

  Nothing will stop me from making her mine. Centuries ago, I would’ve killed my enemies in battle, claimed her as my prize, and been crowned king. Who says I can’t turn back the hands of time? I’m a SEAL—the ultimate warrior. No one will stop me from getting what I want.

  And I want this princess.

  ONE CLICK The Princess and The SEAL now!

  And sign up for my newsletter to find out about my latest books.

  Turn the page for an excerpt from The Princess and The SEAL.

  XOXO

  Alana

  The Princess & The SEAL

  Ryan

  I DOWNED MY SHOT OF WHISKEY in a single gulp, the smooth liquid coating my throat and relaxing my mind as the train rolled into Bayeux, France. Gazing out the window, I had to catch my breath due to the beauty of the picturesque landscape: towering trees, a bright blue lake, and old stone dwellings completely mesmerized me. It was definitely an upgrade from where I’d spent my last seven months. My skin still singed from the scorching heat of the desert hell, where I had been fighting ISIS.

  I grabbed my pack, stopping for a moment to stare at the camouflage nylon duffel bag containing my belongings. A memory popped into my head—me as a young boy, clutching my teddy bear and a black plastic trash bag as I lugged my few possessions to my next foster home, praying that my new caretakers would welcome me into their family and make me their son forever.

  Spoiler alert—they didn’t.

  Twenty years later, I was still alone, a warrior with no place to call home.

  That was the way I liked it.

  I stepped into the station, a faceless man among throngs of people. I admired the last glimpses of the sunset over the city steeples with a massive mountain looming in the background. A river flowed through the center of town. Pine trees, spicy herbs, and fragrant flowers scented the air. Vacation had begun.

  Though I’d deployed overseas many times, I’d never been to Europe. I’d only been in France a few hours, but I was worlds away from my hometown in Gilroy, California.

  I would check into my bed-and-breakfast and spend a day relaxing in town before renting a car and heading to Omaha Beach.

  For the next week, I would live my life selfishly. I planned to visit all the historical battle sites I’d dreamed of seeing as a kid, when everyone told me I’d never make anything out of myself, never leave my piss-poor town.

  I’m here now, a complete badass.

  I had one week to recuperate from the hardships of war by fucking some hot European chicks, who preferably wouldn’t even speak English so I could smash and dash.

  Time to get started—I was ready to sample the local cuisine, and then I needed to find a woman.

  I studied the map on my phone, and I plotted my route to a place to eat and then to the bed-and-breakfast.

  As I put my phone in my back pocket, my gaze quickly focused on a beautiful blonde sitting on a stone bench, her nose buried in a book. Maybe she’d tuck me in and give me a nightcap.

  Admiring her curves, I zeroed in on my target before noticing two swarthy men looming in her shadow.

  Why were they standing so close to her?

  Before I could approach, one snatched her purse, knocking her to the ground, and ran off to the left. The other grabbed her luggage and came straight at me.

  “Au secours!” she screamed. “On vient de me voler!”

  I leaped into action, tossing my pack aside and tackling the motherfucker.

  He swung wildly. I ducked out of the way. With a firm kick to his ribs and a punch square in the face, I knocked him out.

  I knelt down beside him and slapped him on his sallow cheeks until he came to. His brown eyes blinked open, then locked on me with a watery gaze.

  A small crowd had gathered, but none of the bystanders stepped in to help. “Where’s your friend?”

  He shook his head.

  I rolled him over onto his stomach, pulled a cell phone out of his back pocket, and frisked him for weapons. I found a switchblade, grabbed it, and then flipped him back over like a pancake. “Call him and get him to bring back her purse.”

  “No English.”

  Liar. The chances of recovering this woman’s purse were fading by the minute. I was sure the thief had stolen her money and credit cards and tossed the purse into the river.

  I grabbed the guy by his throat and forced myself not to choke him out. I didn’t want to get arrested overseas for assault. Instead, I pulled him up by his clothes, retrieved the lady’s luggage, picked up my pack, and marched him over to the woman. I’d let the police deal with him.

  I scanned the distance for the other thief, but there was no trace of him.

  A few people were staring at me, but I didn’t give a fuck. The blonde still cowered on the ground, and not a single passerby had stopped to see if she was okay.

  I threw the thief back on the ground and tied his wrists to the bench post with my shoelace. “Don’t try anything funny, or I’ll kill you.”

  He didn’t respond.

  I turned my attention to the beautiful woman, reached out my hand, and helped her up.

  She smoothed her hands over her clothes and looked right at me. Long, thick eyelashes framed her large eyes, which hypnotized me with their unusual cornflower-blue shade. “Merci beaucoup, monsieur.”

  I eye-fucked her slowly. She looked like she was in her early twenties, and her golden-blonde hair framed a heart-shaped face before it cascaded down to her ample cleavage. Heat pulsed through my veins—she was a knockout. “I don’t speak French.”

  Her face brightened. “You are an American?” she asked in perfect English laced with a sexy accent.

  I gave her a charming smile. “Damn straight.”

  America was the only woman I’d ever loved. I’d bleed for her; I’d die for her.

  “I can walk you to the nearest police station to file a report. Or we can call the cops. Do they have 911 over here?”

  She shook her head no, and her lower lip trembled. “That won’t be necessary. I doubt the police would be able to recover my purse. Please, just let him go.”

  Confusion set in. “You don’t want to call the police? Why let this bastard get away with his crime?”

  “I just don’t want the trouble, okay? It’s hard to explain. Please . . . let him go.”

  I exhaled. I didn’t want to let this jerk off the hook, but it wasn’t up to me if she didn’t want to press charges. Why did she want to keep this quiet? Maybe she was on the run from someone or something.

  Whatever.

  I reluctantly released him. “Piece of shit. Get the fuck out of here.”

  The man broke through the crowd and scurried away like a scared little mouse.

  What kind of motherfucker stole from a gorgeous woman? He was lucky I hadn’t killed him, but I’d killed too many men in my life. There was no room for death on my vacation.

  I handed her the luggage.

  “Thank you for retrieving my suitcase. How can I ever repay you?”

  By getting on all fours and letting me fuck you from behind.

  I pushed the thought away. Over the years, I’d grown very good at reading people, and my gut told me she wasn’t the type of woman who would be interested in a casual hook-up. Besides her designer luggage, she wore a loose silk blouse that looked like it was expensive and sported huge emerald earrings.

  And a massive diamond engagement ring.

  Dammit. I was looking for a one-night stand—not someone else’s relationship drama.

  I had two rules when it came to women: never sleep with the same one twice, and never fuck some other man’s woman. Cheat
ers repulsed me, especially after seeing so many of my Teammates return home from deployment to find their wives had been unfaithful.

  “No need. Are you hurt?”

  She placed her hand on my arm.

  “No, I’m fine. A bit rattled, but I’ll be okay. But my documents, my money, and my phone are gone.”

  That sucked. “Can I escort you somewhere? Your hotel?” I’d take her somewhere she would be safe. I didn’t owe her anything else. She was engaged—I refused to get involved.

  Her shoulders dropped, and her voice sounded weak. “I don’t want to be a bother.”

  “You aren’t a bother. I’m happy to help.”

  “I appreciate that, but I’ll be fine. Thank you again for getting my luggage.” She grabbed her bag from me, walked a few feet away, slumped on a bench, and clutched her book.

  After a few moments, she began to cry.

  Fuck. I couldn’t leave her alone after she had just been mugged. I wasn’t that much of a dick.

  Fine, Ryan. Just get her situated and then go on your way.

  I walked to the bench and sat beside her. “What are you going to do? I have a cell with international minutes. Would you like to call someone? Maybe your fiancé?”

  She bit her plump lower lip and fidgeted with the diamond on her finger. “Oh, you noticed my ring. It’s not what it seems.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Sure it isn’t, lady. Tell that to him.”

  “I mean, it is. I’m technically engaged, but we’re not together romantically. It’s more of . . . a business arrangement.”

  I leaned in closer. What was her story? I didn’t know her at all, but something in her voice and her eyes made me curious about her. Normally, I didn’t give two shits about other people’s personal lives, but she intrigued me. I had to get to the bottom of this.

  “An arrangement? That’s sexy.” What year was it? Who still had arranged marriages?

  “It’s not meant to be sexy. It’s meant to be practical.”