Laid by the liner, p.1
Laid by the Liner, page 1
part #3 of The Knottiverse: Alphas of the Waterworld Series
Laid by the Liner
The Knottiverse: Alphas of the Waterworld Book 3
V.T. Bonds
Copyright © 2024 by V.T. Bonds
Cover by GetCovers.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Go to https://vtbonds.com for a complete list of books by V.T. Bonds.
For new releases, discounts, and Knotty Exclusives, subscribe to V.T. Bonds’ newsletter at:
https://vtbonds.com/newslettersubscriber.
*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 linebackers out there…
You ain’t got nothing on my ocean liner.
Nothing.
Contents
Alphas of the Waterworld
Blurb
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Defiled by the Destroyer (Preview)
Keep up with V.T. Bonds
Alphas of the Waterworld
Series Introduction
They ate the women first.
Back when the rains began and the crops failed, before the land became lost amidst the seafloor, men on the verge of starvation preyed upon the weak, murdering and consuming the meeker gender with a savageness brought on by The Madness. Children died, and the population dwindled as the ocean swallowed the continents. Technology failed, the worldwide shift in humidity corroding intricate devices to the point of ruin.
Through the years, The Madness evolved, changed by human genetics until their yearning for flesh disappeared. Survival now required two things: nutrients from the soil, and resilient females to further strong bloodlines.
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.
The land disappeared. Water reigned. The sky slowly ceased its weeping.
Massive floating cities emerged, forged from welded-together ships and portions of abandoned buildings upended and salvaged. Survivors added piles upon piles of wreckage, until a mishmash of metal and concrete provided enough space for all the dynamics to gather.
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
“Bad girls get punished. Are you ready, tiny tigress?”
-Deck
On the verge of my first heat and desperate to protect my sister from the brutality of men, I fly into an omega rage when raiders attack my family’s fishing boat. When The Liner, the biggest, cruelest alpha I’ve ever seen, arrives with his crew and rescues my sister, only to threaten to hurt her if I don’t go with him, there’s only one thing I can do.
Except, he doesn’t just want my obedience.
He wants my submission.
He wants to claim me.
Break 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
Bette
Hera’s scream pierces my ears. My fingers tangle in the net. I yank the web of rope into the boat and snatch my makeshift holster from the railing as I dart toward the helm.
“What’s wrong?” I call as I take the steps two at a time.
Fear colors my voice. I skid to a halt, huffing from my mad dash across the boat.
Hera lies sprawled face down on the deck. She grunts and rolls onto her back. Embarrassment adds a deeper red to her tanned cheeks.
“I slipped. I’m okay,” she says.
Envy streaks through me as her luscious brown hair gleams against the floorboards. My blonde locks would blind anyone stupid enough to stare for too long, making my head shine like a beacon in the bright midday sun.
I kneel and help her sit up. The grimace on her face worries me, but not as much as the metallic scent of blood. I lift the hems of her loose, tattered pants and reveal her skinned knees.
The three-year age gap between us seems like decades. Her round face and vulnerable eyes tug at my heart. I wrap my arms around her and give her the hug we both need before holding her shoulders at arm’s length.
“The sea’s calm today,” I say, unable to hide the frustration in my voice.
“I know. I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying attention, and I tripped,” she says.
Guilt slices through my chest as tears glimmer on her lashes, but I fill my lungs with salty ocean air and blow the emotion away with my exhale.
“C’mon. Grandpa’ll kill me if he finds you like this when he gets back,” I say as I move to her side and hook my arm under hers. She accepts my help and limps down the stairs with me.
My accident-prone younger sister constantly sports scrapes and bruises on her arms and legs. I shouldn’t have let her come topside with me, but with so many people gone, I needed her as backup in case I fell overboard. She may be clumsy, but she’s fully capable of deploying the safety raft.
“Is she okay?” Auntie Bell asks as we climb down the steep ladder steps into our living quarters.
“Yeah, she’s fine. Just tripped,” I say.
Hera trembles in embarrassment as Nannie Tike, the eldest female in our extended family, shifts in her bed to aim cloudy brown orbs at her. Grandpa may be the only person we’re blood related to on this tiny, dilapidated fishing boat, but the other eight people onboard have treated us like family ever since the day they pulled us out of the water. Half drowned and fleeing from raiders, my parents and grandparents lucked out when they found this tiny oasis in the sea. Hera was too young to remember much, but sometimes I snap awake from nightmares filled with fire, salt water, and screaming.
“Damn it, child, you scared me, thunkin’ right on top of my head. You ‘bout gave me a heart attack with that hollerin’, too,” Nannie Tike scolds. Her white hair stands out amidst the greys and browns of our home, and the shadows caused by the overhead light accentuate the wrinkles on her face.
I settle Hera on the bench in the kitchen corner and pull the medicine tin from the rusty bread box on the counter. Worry squeezes my heart when I open the tin. She’s been clumsier lately, so we’ve run through the ointment a lot faster than normal. I scoop a bit onto my finger and give Hera a reassuring smile as I close and tuck the tin back into its spot, hiding it away before she can glimpse inside.
“C’mon, we don’t want another infection. Lift your pants,” I instruct.
She doesn’t complain when I smear the ointment over her scrapes.
The hairs on my nape rise. I stand and start toward the ladder steps.
“What’s wro—”
“Raiders!” Kale shouts from the top of the stairs, cutting off Hera’s question.
Uncle Jim pops out of his bunk. He grabs his belt full of knives and tools before ducking toward the stairs, his lanky form sliding past me despite the narrow space.
“You know the drill, girls. Stay down here,” Uncle Jim says. Without a backward glance, he vaults up the steps and slams the hatch.
I grit my teeth and ball my hands into fists at my sides as terror roars through me. After a deep breath to center myself, I turn and haul Hera to the back corner and yank the bag of dirty clothes from under the shelf.
She wrinkles her nose but slips the gross clothes over her own, following my lead. My sinuses sting from the acrid stench of old beta male pheromones, motor oil, and fish guts, but if things go south, we’ll need the disguise.
I shift my belt until the handle of my knife rests under the hole in my shirt before rushing to the kitchen and standing by the stove. We’ve never cooked in the hull—it’s too dangerous—but the cast-iron skillet and ancient utensils make better weapons than anything else we have below deck.
Uncle Jim shouts a gruff greeting. The water laps at the hull. We wait with bated breath as long, tense moments pass. My dread builds with each heavy beat of my heart.
An explosion sounds from nearby, followed by Uncle Jim’s body hitting the deck. My stomach leaps into my throat and every muscle in my body tenses with fear. Kale screams and his footsteps stomp over our heads as he runs from fore to aft.
Several other boots thump against the floorboards on the port side. A scuffle breaks out as Kale fights the intruders.
I can’t stand this. Without Grandpa
I grab the cast iron skillet and rush toward the stairs, but the hatch flings open as I wrap my hand around the railing.
The sun halos around a silhouette that is definitely not Kale. The newcomer’s shoulders are too broad and the stench wafting off him curdles my stomach.
“My, my, what have we here?”
The scratchy timbre wraps my insides in knots. I back away from the steps and swallow bile as a scrawny alpha saunters down the ladder. His ripped clothes and unwashed odor fill me with disgust. The moment his legs are within reach, I wrap both hands around the cast iron handle and swing.
The skillet slams into his shins. Pain travels up my arms, but I tighten my grip and step out of the way as he falls. I lift my weapon above my head and pour everything into swinging it straight down onto the male’s head.
Bones crunch. He doesn’t rise. I stand and shake with adrenaline as I avoid looking at the mess.
Agony shoots through my scalp as another alpha buries his hand in my hair and yanks me up the stairs. I swing the cast iron again, but my arms burn from the weight and the angle is wrong. Metal rings against metal as I hit the railing and lose my grip. The cast iron tumbles to the ground, smacking into my thigh on the way.
The stairs batter my body as the raider hauls me upward. I grab the wrist attached to the hand in my hair, but the greasiness of his skin prevents me from getting a firm hold.
He yanks me away from the doorway and tosses me onto the deck. I grunt and scramble to my feet as he turns back toward the hull.
Two other raiders grab me. I kick one and bury my fingers in the other’s eye, but they’re bigger and stronger than I am. I scream and fight their hands as they pin me between them.
Vomit climbs up my throat as their hands run over me.
“We got us a feisty bitch, don’t we?” says the beta male behind me.
“We got us two feisty bitches,” says the asshole who pulled me up the stairs.
The world stops when he turns and reveals Hera struggling in his arms. Fury overrides my terror. Every thought drains from my head.
I didn’t want to believe it when my scent changed. The hints of omega sweetness budding in my pheromones were not welcome. Being an omega would bring too many complications to an already dangerous world.
But as I see the fear in Hera’s eyes, I hurtle into my omega instincts, experiencing my inner rage for the first time. I become a wild animal. No one will hurt my sister. No one.
I rampage.
Chapter 2
Deck
Waves slap against the bow, but I open the throttle and scowl as we speed toward the group of small crafts. Surrounded by three raider ships, a tiny fishing boat bobs in and out of sight. Rumors of an omega brought me here, but when I catch sight of the mayhem on board, disbelief spears through me.
A petite frame, covered neck to toe in grimy rags, launches herself out from between two falling men. Blood sprays from their necks and rains down on the tiny female. Even through the chaos and filth, her breasts and hips give her away. The crimson-soaked fabric clings to her curves and announces to the world her dynamic.
Need coils around the base of my spine. I’ve barely glimpsed her—haven’t even scented her yet—but my cock hardens in expectation.
I found an omega.
Wicked satisfaction curls my lips as I watch her sink her blade into another male’s thigh. I release the throttle and call out instructions as I stalk toward the bow.
Instincts demand I rush onboard and snatch up my omega, but battle-hardened wisdom leads me to scan the area as we draw nearer. Besides my omega and the beta she stabs a second time, three other males and a younger female fight on the fishing boat’s deck while over a dozen raiders scramble to escape to the other crafts.
I gesture for the boats on either side of my speeder to branch out. They follow my silent command without hesitation.
It’s been months since I’ve traveled so far from my ship—a massive ocean liner connected to several other large structures—but my men remain ready for battle at a moment’s notice.
I lift the port side grappling hook with one hand and growl in annoyance when the alpha behind me uses both hands to lift the starboard hook. He rolls his shoulders back but avoids eye contact, careful to not challenge me.
The omega loses her knife after embedding it in a beta’s temple. She doesn’t stop her forward momentum, shoving the idiot out of her way as she rampages toward the much larger alpha holding the younger female.
I don’t wait for the reinforced bow of my speeder to slam into the other craft before planting my boot on the railing and lunging onto the fishing boat’s deck. I drop the grappling hook mid-step and prowl toward my target, traversing the distance with ease despite the vicious rocking as the boats collide.
The younger female darts up the stairs with a beta male on her heels while the omega wrestles the larger male on the floor. The bloody knife lies a few inches beyond her fingertips. A second alpha reaches for her.
Red hazes my vision as he wraps his hands around her waist and lifts her from the ground. I charge forward and snap his neck from behind. He jerks and drops my female as he goes limp. I toss his dead body toward his buddies, knocking three betas over before they can retreat to their boat.
The omega’s feral snarl arrows straight to my balls. She lunges for the knife and plunges it into the other alpha’s abdomen.
Despite the outrage flooding my system over her audacity—she attacked a smaller alpha instead of acknowledging me—I stalk past her and up the stairs, cracking my neck and rolling my shoulders to release my building tension.
Wrapped around the younger female in a bear hug from behind, the beta male squeezes her wrist and forces her to release her knife. The blade clatters against the floorboards. She wriggles and cries. His vile smirk and disgusting scent insult my alpha instincts. I clear the stairs and stalk across the command deck.
The terror clouding the beta’s face as he notices me satisfies the beast prowling within my veins. I grab his wrists and wrench his arms in opposite directions. His shoulders pop. He screams in agony. The tiny female between us shrieks and ducks to the side. I lift the male by his neck and slam him down on the railing. His back snaps. His arms flop uselessly above the waves. He doesn’t move. I release him and turn as his body splashes head first into the water.
The youngling runs toward the stairs, but trips on a rope halfway there. I lift her by the scruff. She kicks and flails, but my arm is too long for her to reach me.
“Be still or I’ll toss you overboard,” I growl.
She stops fighting.
I set her on her feet and clamp my hand over her shoulder.
“Either walk down the stairs on your own or I’ll hogtie you and give you to my men.”
Tears pour down her face. She curls her shoulders and sobs, but the sight only annoys me. Every second I don’t have the omega underneath me is another second my impatience grows.
“Now, female,” I demand.
She shuffles forward and almost falls down the stairs. I snarl and shake her shoulder just enough to shock her into compliance. She follows my silent instructions as I push her toward the center of the deck.
Blown pupils lift to meet mine. My mind mutes the noise of my men rounding up the raiders, creating a bubble of intimacy around me and the beautiful savage. Covered in gore and flushed with fury, my omega rises from her kill and squares her shoulders with mine. The animalistic fury shining from her eyes challenges my alpha instincts. I snarl and pull the youngling closer to my side.
My omega freezes. She locks eyes with the female beside me. The mania slowly leaks from her aura.
Pale green irises emerge as her pupils shrink. Her knuckles turn white around the handle of her knife and tremors wrack through her. Her shaking worsens as she notices the width of my shoulders and studies me from head to toe. The return of her fear hardens my cock to steel.
