My Knotted Revenge: Holiday Heat With The Alpha Dad | Read Free Preview
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Chapter 1
Emma’s POV
I turned the key in the lock, and it gave a familiar click; the scent hit me first.
Sex. Sweat. Cheap floral perfume. And beneath it, something sharper, muskier, laced with the kind of territorial heat that always clung to men when they forgot how to behave like humans.
A low moan drifted down the hallway, followed by the unmistakable rhythm of a bed hitting the wall.
My heart jumped.
I thought Mark told me he’d be working late again, so what in hell’s name was going on?
I crept forward silently, the grocery bags I held crinkling softly, until I reached the bedroom door. It was slightly open, just enough for me to see the heart-shattering pornographic scene.
There he was, my boyfriend of two years, Mark, naked and sweaty like a bucket of water had been poured on him. His body glistened under the dim damp light and his muscular back flexed as he thrust deep into a blonde lady sprawled beneath him on our bed.
OUR bed!
He liked to brag about himself when he was drunk, his grandfather had been pack-born, his senses stronger than any human male’s, his temper "more primal."
Right now, primal was exactly what he looked like.
One hand gripped the woman’s hip hard enough to bruise. His mouth was at her throat, not kissing, not even pretending tenderness, just claiming.
Showing off. The room smelled thick with lust and male arrogance, and something inside me recoiled from it.
The woman was a stranger to me, she had long legs and fake tits bouncing with every powerful stroke. Mark’s hands gripped her hips hard enough to leave bruises, pulling her more towards his thick cock as he growled.
“Fuck, yeah! Take it all, you slut!”
The blonde arched under him, her manicured nails raking down his chest, leaving trails.
“Harder, baby,” she purred. “Fill me up like your boring girlfriend never could.”
My world turned upside down. The bags slipped from my fingers then, the items I bought rolling across the floor. Mark’s head snapped up, his eyes locking on mine mid-thrust.
His reaction surprised me.
Rather than guilt or horror, a slow, shameless grin spread across his face. He didn’t stop.
If at all, he slowed his pace to a deliberate grind, letting me see every inch of his thick shaft disappearing into the woman’s shaved pussy, her lips stretching around him.
“Emma? Perfect timing,” he said, acting casually like I’d just walked in on him watching TV. The blonde twisted to look, her cheeks flushed, lips parted in a moan as Mark shoved into her deeply that made her gasp so loud. “This is Stacy, and she’s got a body that actually does something for me.”
I stood frozen, feeling the urge to actually throw up. “What the fuck, Mark. Get off her! That’s our bed!”
He laughed like I’d just made a joke, pulling out from her just enough to let me see the glistening evidence of their arousal- his cock throbbing, veined and angry-red, coated in Stacy’s creamy juices, before slamming back in with a wet squelch. Stacy whimpered in pleasure, grinding her clit against him.
“A man with wolf blood doesn’t stay hungry for scraps forever,” Mark said. “You should’ve figured that out by now.”
The woman beneath him smiled like she’d heard this speech before.
Something cold slid down my spine. There it was. Not just cruelty or cheating.
The old contempt underneath it, the one he usually hid better. The belief that being part wolf, even diluted, half-baked, and generations removed, made him above ordinary people, above me.
I folded my arms around myself. “So that’s what this is? You found a woman stupid enough to be impressed by your bloodline stories?”
His eyes flashed.
“Stacy comes from a real pack,” he said. “That means more than you ever will, she is my...oh, my fate mate.”
The blonde lifted her chin, pleased.
Mark kept going, because of course he did. He had always known exactly where to press to hurt me most.
“You’re human, Emma. Soft. Plain. No scent worth following, no instincts worth trusting. You really think someone with my blood was going to keep playing house forever?”
Stacy giggled, reaching down to rub her swollen clit in circles. “Come on, sweetie. I don’t mind sharing. His dick feels amazing—bet you’d love it up your ass will I sit on your face.” She bucked against Mark, her breasts jiggling, her nipples hard as pebbles.
My face burned with humiliation and rage. How dare he? “Are you serious? You’re cheating on me in our apartment, and you want me to… to join? Fuck you, Mark. We’re done.”
Mark’s grin faded into a sneer, but he kept pounding into Stacy, his balls slapping against her ass with every thrust. “Done? Please. Look at you- Those waitress clothes, that sad ponytail, that exhausted little face. Do you know what men like me want? Heat. Bite. Hunger. Not some boring human girl who flinches every time life gets messy.”
I swallowed hard.
For the first time in days, maybe weeks, my body felt wrong again, too warm, too tight, every nerve pulled taut beneath my skin. It had been happening more lately. Little bursts of heat for no reason. Sudden dizziness.
A strange awareness I couldn’t explain, as if the world had started humming just under the edge of my senses.
I had blamed stress, lack of sleep, bad food, too many late shifts, and not enough money.
But standing there in the doorway, with the room stinking of sex and wolf musk and betrayal, I felt that strange heat rise again, not desire, not exactly, but something restless and raw and unsettling.
Like something in me was waking up at the wrong time.
I hated it.
I hated that my pulse was racing, that my skin felt too tight, that I couldn’t stop breathing in the sharp animal scent in the room even when it made me want to gag.
Mark noticed the change in my face and smirked again, misreading it completely.
“What?” he spoke. “You finally realizing what you’re missing?”
Revulsion slammed through me, hot and immediate.
“No,” I said. “I’m realizing how much time I wasted.”
I turned before he could answer, before I could break apart in front of him, and walked out of the bedroom on shaking legs.
Behind me, he called, “Take your crap and go, Emma. And don’t come crawling back when you figure out nobody wants a human girl with baggage.”
I didn’t answer. I grabbed my coat from the chair, yanked open the front door, and stumbled out into the cold December night.
The air hit me like ice water.
For a few seconds, I could barely breathe.
The street outside was quiet, washed in pale gold from old apartment lamps and Christmas lights strung across neighboring balconies.
Normal sounds. A normal night.
But my whole life had just split open.
I stood on the sidewalk clutching my keys so hard they bit into my palm, trying to think through the roaring in my ears.
When Mark lost his job a year ago, I’d been his rock, paying the rent, buying his groceries, even sucking him off under the table during his “stress relief” sessions just to keep him going. I’d swallowed his cum more times than I could count, gagging on his length while he watched porn on his phone, comparing me to the sluts on screen.
How had it come to this? I’d poured everything into that damn relationship- every dime from my shitty waitressing job, every late-night shift at the dinner where creeps ogled my ass in those tight skirts.
Now I have nowhere to go. No real savings left. No family close enough to take me in without a lecture, I was too raw to survive. No backup plan except surviving each week and hoping Mark would eventually become the man I kept telling myself he could still be.
God. I had been an idiot.
I shook my head, dialing my best friend, Sarah, with numb fingers.
The phone rang twice before Sarah picked up. “Emma! Hey, girl, what’s up? It’s kinda late.”
“Sarah,” I choked out, trying to steady my voice. “I… I need a favor. Can I crash at your place for a bit? Like, tonight? I have nowhere else to go.”
There was a pause, then a muffled giggle on the other end, followed by a low masculine groan.
I realized then that Sarah wasn’t alone.
“Oh, hon. I’m so sorry. You see, Jake is here…and the place is a mess. I don’t even have a couch to offer you right now.”
“Yeah, okay. I get it,” I muttered, my voice flat.
“Everything alright with Mark?” Sarah pressed, concern edging into her tone amid another distant moan- probably Jake teasing her even now.
I leaned against the cold brick wall and shut my eyes. “Mark cheated.”
Sarah went dead silent for half a second. Then, “That asshole.”
A broken laugh caught in my throat.
I heard rustling on her end, like she was moving somewhere more private. “Listen… this might sound crazy, but I may have something for you.”
I straightened. “What?”
“You know I do event staffing. A last-minute opening on a private holiday yacht is still hiring...Live-in work, good pay, meals included. They need someone tonight.”
“A yacht?” I repeated. It seems too wonderful for a homeless girl like me.
“Yeah.” Sarah lowered her voice. “But I have to say, the guests aren’t just rich. They’re...people from a classic pack. The kind with old money and real rank, some members act just like real wolves.”
I went still, my fingers tightening around the phone as a faint chill slid down my back. It sounds like a real dark fantasy that comes from the deepest night. Even Mark, though I know he's not joking, even Mark with all his cheap wolf-blood arrogance, had never belonged to that kind of world.
“It’s mostly serving drinks, cleaning up, and staying out of the way,” Sarah went on. “Easy enough, if you follow the rules.”
The word rules made my skin prickle. Something about it sent that same strange, restless heat curling low in my belly again.
“What kind of rules?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
“No perfume. No wandering where you’re not supposed to. No mouthing off to guests,” she said. After a beat, she added, “And if they tell you to keep your eyes down, you do it.”
I swallowed hard, suddenly too aware of my own breathing. The heat under my skin sharpened, uneasy and unfamiliar. Cold chased over my arms, but my pulse kicked hard anyway. Fast money on a yaunt, twenty-four hours ago, I would’ve laughed, but now it sounded like the only door left open.
“Do they hire humans often?” I asked.
“Sometimes, for temporary work,” Sarah said. “And right now, Emma, you need this.”
She was right, and we both knew it. If I didn’t take something tonight, I’d be broke, totally burnt out, and one bad decision away from crawling back to Mark.
“Send me the number,” I said at last.
A few seconds after we hung up, my phone buzzed.
Sarah: If you can follow instructions and keep your head down, call this number now. Boarding starts before sunrise.
A second text came right after it.
Sarah: One more thing. The Alpha of the pack will also be there. Try to get away from him.
I stared at the screen while that strange heat slid through me again.
My fingers tightened around the phone.
Before I could think better of it, I copied the number and hit call.
Chapter 2
Emma’s POV
The salty sea air whipped through my hair as I stepped aboard the luxurious yacht, the “Yultide Dream,” was docked in the bustling harbor. Its polished white body gleamed beneath the harbor lights like something too expensive and too perfect to belong to the same world as me.
Sarah’s words kept circling in my head as I followed one of the other temporary staff down the boarding ramp. Keep your head down. Follow instructions. The Alpha of the pack will be there. Try to get away from him. It should have sounded ridiculous, like the setup to some dark fantasy movie I’d laugh at with cheap wine and popcorn, but nothing about the yacht felt ridiculous.
At least it came with accommodation: a cramped cabin bunk, three square meals, and a paycheck that might cover a deposit on a new place. No more sleeping on park benches or crashing in abandoned cars.
I tried not to think about Mark. I really did. But as the yacht pulled away from shore and the city lights blurred into gold streaks on the water, my mind betrayed me anyway.
I could still see him in our bed, slick with sweat, grinning at me like I was the fool for being hurt. I could still hear his voice, that smug little sneer when he called Stacy his fated mate, like saying the words made him something more than an Omega man with diluted wolf blood and a cheap god complex.
My stomach twisted. Anger rose fast behind it, hot and bitter, followed by that same wrong kind of heat I didn’t want to name. Then I was handed my uniform, a complete joke of a skimpy red elf outfit that hugged my curves like a second skin.
The short skirt barely covered my ass, and the low-cut top pushed my C-cups into a mouthwatering cleavage that jiggled with every step.
“Perfect for tips,” the captain leered, his eyes lingering on my hardened nipples poking through the thin fabric.
I forced a smile, grabbing a rag to polish the crystal glasses behind the bar. The lounge was filling up with guests: tipsy socialites in glittering gowns, horny businessmen eyeing the staff like fresh meat.
Christmas carols played softly, but the vibe was anything but innocent—couples already grinding on the dance floor, hands wandering under skirts and into pants.
And that’s when I saw her.
Brittany fucking Harlow, striding in like she owned the place, her arm was linked with an older man’s.
My hand froze, the glass I held nearly slipping from my grip.
Brittany—the queen bitch from high school who’d made my life a living hell. Back then, Brittany was deepthroating the quarterback while his girlfriend waited outside. She’d bullied me very often, calling me “flat-chested prude” in front of everyone, once even pantsing me in the cafeteria to expose my plain cotton panties to roaring laughter. I had spent years replaying those humiliations in my head, imagining stupid revenge scenarios that never happened because girls like Brittany always landed on their feet.
But it wasn’t Brittany who held me still.
It was the man beside her.
I looked at him, and everything inside me went tight.
He was tall and broad-shouldered, older than the men who usually turned my head, with salt-and-pepper hair brushed neatly back and a face cut in hard, handsome lines. His dark suit fit him too well, stretching over a chest and arms built with the kind of strength no amount of money could fake. Who was he?
Even from across the lounge, something about him pressed against my skin in a way that made me too aware of my own body.
My pulse kicked hard.
Then Brittany tilted her face up to him and smiled. “Daddy.”
My mind stalled for a second.
Daddy?
Holy shit.
Mr. Harlow- Richard Harlow. Brittany’s father. I had seen him a few times years ago at parent nights and school fundraisers, always immaculate, always distant, always carrying the quiet kind of authority that made people straighten up around him. Now, standing on this yacht with the sea behind him and Brittany tucked against his side, he looked like something else entirely.
A wicked idea sparked in my mind then. Of all the men in the world I could have picked to get back at Mark, to prove I could still make someone want me, what could be more satisfying than taking Brittany Harlow’s father? Seduce the villain girl’s daddy—fucking him senseless, and making him beg for my tight pussy while his precious daughter slept nearby.
The closer I looked at Richard, the less that thought felt like a game. He seems obviously one of those top-level guys. Get through my whole night with a real pack member, my body had leapt ten steps ahead of my brain and forgotten to ask permission.
My nipples tightened under the cheap fabric of my uniform. My thighs pressed together on reflex.
Even the sound of his low, rough, controlled voice sent a pulse of heat straight between my legs.
Jesus Christ.
I kept watching them, polishing the same glass over and over until it nearly squeaked beneath the rag. Richard’s hand still rested at Brittany’s lower back, calm and possessive, but every now and then his gaze drifted, catching on me when I bent to restock the shelves, my skirt riding up just enough to show the curve of my ass and the tops of my thighs. Each time it happened, a hot shiver ran through me so fast it felt humiliating.
Brittany eventually floated onto the dance floor with a bright laugh, leaving Richard alone at the table with his half-empty scotch.
Bingo.
I should have stayed where I was, kept my head down, and remembered every warning Sarah had given me.
Instead, I grabbed the bottle and a fresh glass, then crossed the lounge.
“Refill, sir?” I asked softly, forcing my voice to stay smooth as I stopped beside him.
Up close, he was even worse, heat, whiskey, cold night air, and something dark beneath it that caught me tight.
“Make it a double,” he said, his voice low and rough enough to send heat spiraling between my thighs. When his fingers brushed mine as he took the glass, a violent jolt tore through me, so sudden and intense my knees almost gave out.
The look he gave me after was sharp, dark, and far too knowing.
“You look familiar. Have we met?”
I batted my lashes, trying to hide how badly that one touch had shaken me. “Maybe in another life,” I teased, even as filthy thoughts rushed through me, his hand tangled in my hair, his mouth on my throat, his body pinning me against the yacht railing while the sea crashed black and wild around us. Revenge had brought me to his table, but whatever burned between my thighs now felt bigger than revenge.
This cruise was about to get very, very merry.
Chapter 3
Richard’s POV
Finally, some goddamn peace. The divorce from that conniving bitch of an ex-wife had dragged on for months, her lawyers sniffing around my assets like hyenas, but I’d clawed my way out intact. Work? Buried under a mountain of corporate bullshit, but I’d shoved it all aside for this yacht holiday.
Just me and Brittany, my little girl—though at 22, she wasn’t so little anymore. She’d cleaned up her act since those wild high school days, thank fuck, and this Christmas cruise was my way of rewarding her. No more scandals, no more late-night calls from the principal about her sucking off half the swim team in the locker room. She was proper now, demure, the perfect daughter.
I lounged at the bar in the yacht’s lavish lounge, the ocean rocking gently beneath us. Brittany sat beside me, chattering about her latest yoga retreat. I nodded along, but my mind was elsewhere—specifically, on the ache in my balls that had been building since we boarded.
My wolf paced restlessly inside me; it had been too long since I’d buried my cock in a warm, willing pussy, claiming it with teeth and thrusts until my mate begged for my knot.
The bartender—no, the server—in that skimpy elf outfit was turning the screws in my head. Fuck me, she was a vision: curves in all the right places, her tits straining against the low-cut top, nipples pebbled and begging to be sucked. Her skirt rode up just enough to tease the edge of her ass as she bent to grab a bottle, and I caught a whiff of her scent—sweet, musky, like ripe berries mixed with pure arousal. My cock twitched in my pants, hardening instantly to a steel rod, throbbing against my zipper.
Then it hit me like a full moon’s howl. That scent. It wrapped around my senses, igniting every primal instinct. My wolf surged forward, snarling in my mind.
Mate. Ours. Claim her now. Sink your fangs into her neck while you fuck her senseless.
Holy shit. This waitress—Emma, her nametag read—was my fated mate. The one legends whispered about, the perfect match for my alpha blood. My balls tightened, pre-cum leaking from my tip as visions flooded me: pinning her down, ripping off that ridiculous outfit, spreading her thighs wide and slamming my thick cock into her dripping cunt, knot swelling to lock us together as I pumped her full of my seed.
I shifted in my seat, adjusting my raging erection discreetly. Brittany was still talking, oblivious. “Dad, you okay? You look… intense.”
“Yeah, princess,” I rumbled, forcing a smile. My voice came out gravelly, laced with the wolf’s hunger. I needed to distract her—fast—before I lost control and mounted Emma right there on the bar. “Why don’t you check out the dance floor? I saw some cute guys your age earlier. Mingle a bit. I’ll be fine.”
Brittany hesitated, her eyes flicking to Emma, who was now polishing a glass with slow, deliberate strokes that made her breasts jiggle enticingly.
“Okay, Dad. Don’t drink too much,” she pecked my cheek and left.
Alone at last. Well, almost. Emma approached, her hips swaying like a siren’s call, that scent hitting me harder now.
“Refill, sir?” She asked, leaning over the bar so her cleavage was inches from my face. I could see the outline of her hard nipples, imagining pinching them until she moaned, then sucking them raw while fingering her slick folds.
“Make it a double,” I growled, my eyes locking onto hers. Looking at her more closely now, a hint of recognition came to mind. I thought to ask her.
“You look familiar. Have we met?”
“Maybe in another life.”
Inhaling deeply, my cock was straining painfully now, begging to be freed. The pull was electric, my wolf howling Mark her! Breed her!
“You know, sweetheart, you’ve got a body made for sin. That outfit… it’s criminal how it hugs your ass. Makes a man want to bend you over right here and slide his fingers under that skirt, see if you’re as wet as you smell.”
Her cheeks flushed, but her eyes darkened with lust—good, she felt it too.
“Sir, that’s… forward,” she whispered, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she bit her lip, her gaze dropping to my crotch where my bulge was obvious, tenting my pants like a fucking monument.
“Forward? Baby, you have no idea,” I reached across the bar, my hand brushing her arm. My wolf clawed, urging me to drag her into the shadows, hike up that skirt, and plunge my tongue into her juicy pussy, lapping up her cream until she screamed. Then I’d flip her over, spread her cheeks, and ram my cock into her tight heat, fucking her like the animal I was, balls slapping against her clit with every brutal thrust.
“What’s your name, gorgeous? Emma? Fits you—innocent on the outside, but I bet you’re a wildcat in bed. Ever been claimed properly? Tied down, teased until you’re dripping, then filled so deep you feel it in your soul?”
She gasped, her thighs clenching visibly, and I smelled her arousal spike—fuck, she was drenched.
“Mr. Harlow… Richard… I don’t know what youre—”
Not minding the fact that she already knew my name, I cut her off with a wicked grin, my hand sliding to her wrist, thumb stroking her pulse. It raced like mine, syncing in rhythm.
“Oh, you will mate. Soon. My wolf’s already decided—you’re mine. Imagine it: me pinning you against the wall in my cabin, your legs wrapped around my waist as I pound into your sweet cunt, my teeth grazing your neck. I’ll mark you, bite down hard while you cum around my knot, locking my seed inside you. You’ll beg for more, won’t you? My dirty little elf, stuffed full and owned.”
Her breath hitched, nipples straining harder against her top, and I knew I’d hooked her. The flirtation was just the beginning—tonight, under the stars, I’d make her mine, fucking her raw until the yacht echoed with our moans.
My ex-wife, work, none of that was important.
Only Emma mattered now.
My fated mate, ready to be claimed.
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