Taken by the tanker, p.1
Taken by the Tanker, page 1
part #1 of The Knottiverse: Alphas of the Waterworld Series
Taken by the Tanker
The Knottiverse: Alphas of the Waterworld Book 1
V.T. Bonds
Copyright © 2022 by V.T. Bonds
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*This Dark Omegaverse Romance is knot for the faint of heart. If explicit scenes, OTT possessive alphas, violence, and D/s themes offend you, please abstain.*
To all the Kevin Costner fans… I’m sorry and you’re welcome. May this be the series that becomes your new favorite classic.
A dark, dirty, thrilling, wet classic.
Contents
Alphas of the Waterworld
Blurb
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Crushed by the Cruiser (Preview)
Keep up with V.T. Bonds
Alphas of the Waterworld
Series Introduction
They ate the women first.
Back when the rains drowned the crops and turned the earth into a polluted swamp, men on the verge of starvation preyed upon the weak. Urged on by The Madness—a combination of infectious mold, hunger, and desperation—they murdered and consumed the women and children until the population dwindled.
Faced with extinction, humanity used The Madness to evolve. Dynamics emerged, fracturing humanity into three subspecies: alphas, betas, and omegas.
It should have worked. The race should have thrived.
Alphas had the brawn and fortitude to protect their own. Betas had the wisdom and skills needed to rebuild. Omegas had the endurance to accept the alpha’s attentions, as well as a biological need to nurture their offspring.
But human nature proved itself to be broken.
Greed pushed alphas to war. Fear made betas cower. Abuse turned omegas barren.
As the rains continued, the land became lost amidst the seafloor. Continents disappeared. Water reigned. The sky slowly ceased its weeping.
Massive floating cities emerged, forged from buoyant ruins, battle-wrecked ships, and upended buildings. Survivors added piles of wreckage to the crafts until a mishmash of rusty metal and concrete provided enough space for pockets of civilization to form.
Dirt replaced gold in value. The alphas hoarded every granule and pillaged the wreckage until they owned every viable seed on the now-oceanic planet.
Except the seeds refused to grow, just as the omegas refused to breed.
The alphas were strong, but the omegas possessed all the power.
Chaos ruled the Waterworld.
Blurb
“Keep fighting, little omega. I like the way your tight little body moves against mine.”
-Hoss
Locked in a rusty metal cage and doomed to suffer as soon as my first heat hits, I barely survive in a broken world run by brutal men. When The Tanker, the biggest, cruelest alpha around, murders everyone I know and flings me over his shoulder, my life takes an even worse turn.
He doesn’t just want to mate me.
He wants to break me.
Breed me.
Own me.
Light on plot, heavy on spice, dive into this ‘quick read’ dark dystopian human omegaverse romance knowing you’ll find triggering content, including a possessive alpha, a reluctant omega, and a delicious battle of wills that ends in Happily Ever After.
Chapter 1
Char
My stomach twists as the people loitering on the other side of the shop’s barred service window scurry away. I wish I could join them. They’re free to go where they please, free to run from danger, free to go topside whenever they dare.
I want that freedom, even if it means living with half-starved betas under putrid conditions. Hell, my position isn’t much better.
I yearn to feel the heat of the sun and the salty ocean air brushing across my skin. Sometimes I stick my arm out of the porthole in my cell, but it’s not enough, and getting caught is never worth it. I glance over my shoulder and confirm the three shopkeeper’s doors are closed.
More people rush past the front of the shop, so I shove the can in my hand under the counter and pull the last one from the box on the floor.
Worse than the need for sunlight and freedom, my entire body aches for the comfort of a casual touch, even though I’ve never experienced it before. No one has ever held my hand, given me a hug, patted my head, or kissed my temple.
I can’t have these things. I’m an omega. I’m a curse—the reason humans are doomed to fail.
Pushing myself into motion as the noise from the hall increases, I rise with the empty, hole-ridden box in one hand and glimpse the boy from next door running down the hall on his way to alert Alpha Trik.
I tuck the box under my arm and open the jar of pickling rat meat on the counter before banging on each of the three doors on my way to the back room, alerting the beta shopkeepers of trouble.
Geeta swings her door open and glares at me, but I point toward the commotion in the hall and yank the curtain closed between us.
After setting the box on top of the stack of other empties, I scoop up the pile of rags I use as nesting materials and wind my way through the cramped storage room. The haphazard array of shelves and containers hold dirty supplies, while shiny buckets sit along the right wall, catching water as it drips from the mass of tubes and funnels Geeta used to create the purifiers.
Geeta’s sharp mind and sharper tongue earned her the privilege of being a shopkeeper, as well as the position of an occasional rut-buddy to the local alpha, Alpha Trik. He wouldn’t let just any beta handle rare things like food, water, and an omega.
I toss my armful of rags through the small opening tucked in the back corner of the storage room and crawl in before easing the iron grate closed behind me. The thick mesh door latches tight against the sturdy metal bars, locking me in with shallow pots of dirt and wilting plants, their sad leaves and brittle stems foretelling yet another unsuccessful growing season.
Bret, the second shopkeeper, welded the grate to this supposed sanctuary. His affinity for all things fire and metal earned him a place in Alpha Trik’s graces. His hard hands have featured in many of my nightmares, their normal abuse turning more sinister than in years past. He used to hit and push me, but lately he’s inflicted less obvious means of torture, seeking parts of my body I wish would go back to being flat.
I cram my nesting materials into the least rusty bucket and wedge the top tight against the underside of the lopsided table in the farthest corner, blocking most of my scent within before pushing my back against it and pulling my knees to my chest. A deep, rough voice carries through the storage room and into my cage, the menacing timbre making me curl my arms tighter around my knees.
It’s the same alpha who came by two months ago—The Tanker.
Chills run up and down my spine.
He knows.
Despite the stench of fermenting rat meat wafting from the open jar on the counter, he knows. Despite Alpha Trik caging me away from the rest of the world, he knows.
I’m close to my first heat.
The tanker isn’t from around here. He lives deep in the bowels of the old oil rig welded between our vessel and the cruiser on the other side. Nausea builds in my stomach as I think about being locked away in the maze of dark, stench-filled rooms of the gigantic ship. At least here I have the small porthole to let in light and fresh air.
Fancy—the third shopkeeper—addresses The Tanker. I grind my teeth so hard my jaw aches as her syrupy voice drifts down the hall. Her words echo in my head, vicious, demeaning, and all too honest. She makes sure I know my worth, or lack thereof, every moment possible. As she tries to sweet-talk the alpha, I ignore the hurt pulsing within my chest from her latest jab.
She mocked me because my green thumb is failing. The plants I’ve loved since childhood die because of me. As my body buds and ripens for an alpha’s knot—as puberty encroaches—my skills diminish. My miserable days only lead to one outcome: my slow, agonizing death underneath an alpha.
A laugh from Fancy yanks me out of my musings, but when the alpha’s low rumble stirs a weird sensation in my belly, I jump to my feet and slide between the tables below the porthole, rising onto my tiptoes and sticking my finger through the opening. I pull the window open a bit more, causing the wind to blow louder in the room, and freeze as the conversation stops. My heart pounds against my ribs as I suck down the briny breeze, trying to dispel the feeling of being cornered. In all my years of living here, no one has gotten past the thick metal door of the shop unless Alpha Trik invited them in.
I will the conversation to continue, hoping the rushing wind blocks out their voices, but the hairs on my nape stand on end.
A loud bang echoes through the shop before Fancy’s scream batters my eardrums, her agony ricocheting off the rusty walls. The sound ends in a gut-wrenching gurgle.
I wriggle o
Metal shrieks as the handle snaps off the shop’s front door.
My hands shake as adrenaline pulses through me, but I move a second pot to the floor, making sure it stays upright—I can’t stomach the thought of spilling something so precious—before pushing a third plant aside to clear enough space on the table.
Bret bellows in pain and Geeta screams in anger.
I scramble onto the table, whacking my thigh on the edge and scraping both knees on the cracked surface in my haste. Boots stomp closer as I fling the porthole open.
A pair of gigantic shoulders emerge from the darkened storage room, casting a shadow of monstrous proportions behind the bars of my glorified jail cell. Their brawn spans beyond the width of the doorway, stealing my breath and filling me with terror.
Scarred knuckles wrap around the steel bars.
Too scared to scream, I reach through the porthole, find the nearest pit in the rust-eaten hull, and duck my head and shoulders through.
Metal screeches as the brute bends the bars of my cell with his bare hands.
I curse my budding curves as my breasts prevent me from climbing through the porthole, but after finding a foothold on the inner wall with my toes, I push myself through. Shards of agony spear through my chest, but I twist, find a second handhold on the hull, and press my elbows against the pockmarked iron of the ship. I pour everything into escaping, but my hips refuse to fit.
Thick fingers wrap around my thighs, scorching my flesh through the thin material of my shorts and drowning me in terror.
The cool, salty wind and bright, warm sunlight do nothing to ease my fear. Nothing to suppress how my skin lights up from the male’s enormous hands. Nothing to stop me from being at the mercy of a brutal alpha.
I scream and fight harder, wishing I could climb free, wishing for the harsh bite of freezing water and angry waves. I’d rather die by drowning than suffer whatever this alpha has planned for me. Drowning would be quicker and less humiliating.
He tugs my thighs, sliding me backward through the porthole. I kick and flail, scraping my elbows and staining the hull with my blood. Sliding over my hips and their horrible flare, his massive hands encircle my waist. Despite how easily he could crush me, he pulls me toward him with gentle pressure until the undersides of my breasts catch on the porthole. I hiss and kick, but his low rumble infects my bones and steals my strength.
“Come back in, little omega.”
My fingers ache as I tighten my hold on the hull. Wind tugs at my hair and abrades my tear-stained face.
I don’t want to die, but the waves look so enticing compared to suffering this alpha’s wrath.
He splays his long fingers over my entire abdomen, digging into the trapped undersides of my breasts and pressing into my hip bones.
He’s bigger than I thought. Much bigger than Alpha Trik.
Caught like a rat in a trap, I struggle to breathe. Tendrils of heat sink into my body from his hands, causing a disconcerting itch just below my skin.
When I don’t move, the brute shifts his hands until one encompasses my right butt cheek and the other rests just above my pelvis, poised to slide where no man has ever touched.
“Come back in or I’ll knot you right here, right now, your readiness be damned.”
Trembling so hard I fear my bones will shatter, I go limp, trying to convey my compliance. I can’t wriggle through the hole with my breasts wedged like this, but I don’t know how to tell him. The sharp edge of the porthole threatens to pierce my flesh, my clothes doing nothing to protect me.
A tense moment passes. I stay as limp as I can with my bones shaking.
With movements too efficient to be called gentle, he pushes me forward, then guides me back through the hole one terrifying inch at a time. Tears spill from my eyes and join the blood oozing from my elbows as he slides me down the wall and pins me in place with his bulk. He weaves his fingers into my hair and pulls my head back, forcing me to look over my shoulder and meet his scowl.
Tawny brown eyes surrounded by sharp features and dark brown hair fill my vision.
He says nothing, but a vibration rumbles from his chest. My fear dances away until it hovers on the outskirts of my mind, still active, but unable to control my thoughts. The same itching heat created by his hands buries itself under my skin and sinks deeper, infecting my organs until I long for relief.
His lips tilt in a smirk.
It doesn’t reach his eyes.
Chapter 2
Hoss
A pair of wide, light green eyes stand out against the rusty wall. With chestnut hair and dainty features, the tiny omega incites my lust by merely existing. Even her faint, incomplete scent sends urgency pumping through me. My cock hardens, captured between my thigh and the swell of her ass.
She’s not ready, but she’s close. Too close.
In a perfect world, I would have come back to claim her sooner, but we don’t live in a perfect world. We live in a world of decay and misery, where the weak suffer and the strong survive.
I will not settle at surviving. I’m going to thrive, no matter what it takes.
And this little female is the key to my empire, whether she wants to be or not.
I tighten my grip in her hair and deepen my growl in appreciation. I’ve never felt anything so soft. Shoving away the urge to bury my face in her long locks, I wrap my free hand around the delicate column of her throat, reminding her of her helplessness and me of her fragility.
Mine. I leave the word unspoken, saving it for when she understands just how deeply I mean it, but the shrinking of her pupils tells me she sees my intent within my gaze. The silent word echoes between us until her expression tightens and her eyes lose their focus.
Realizing I’m crushing her against the wall, I shift my weight to my heels. Her ragged inhale rubs her ass against my hard cock. I grit my teeth and slide my hand to her shoulder before pivoting her to face the door.
“Walk.”
Her tattered slipper lifts and takes a small step forward.
I push her through the disgusting storage room, using my grip on her hair and shoulder to maneuver her through the refuse. Her breathing turns raspy as we step over the three dead beta shopkeepers.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch the largest beta male on my crew sneaking a glance at my omega. With a cloudy eye and a jagged scar running down one side of his face, he represents the brutality of our world.
At the ruined outer door, I release her shoulder and jerk her to a stop by her hair. She lifts her tiny hands and grabs my wrist. I snarl until she lowers her hands back to her sides.
She balls them into dainty fists. I smirk, amused at her display of annoyance. She flinches when I command my betas to finish their scavenging. The fear tightening her profile sends liquid desire through my hard cock.
The scarred beta mumbles about the uselessness of topside trinkets. I slide him a cool glare and enjoy how quickly he shuts his mouth. His shoulders hunch as I continue to stare. I long to smash his face into the counter, but I squash the urge and yank my female to my side.
Her stiff little frame fits perfectly against mine. I use my hold on her hair to ensure she stays close as I step from the room.
The hall proves empty, except for the local betas who are too lame or drunk to move. I stalk down the narrow corridor, prepared for an ambush or rebuttal from the territory’s alpha, traversing the dirty maze with ease. The amount of light streaming through holes in the ceiling reminds me of how spoiled most topsiders are, but the brightness of the sun does not bother me. I use the illumination to my advantage, perusing every nook and cranny along the ugly halls with ease while stealing glances at the tiny female beside me.
When I reach the hatch to the narrow staircase, I force her to follow me down despite the growing panic in her eyes.
I don’t slow.
We stomp down two flights before we’re forced to find a new stairwell. I fling open the sealed door and pull her back to my side.
