Why Do Authors Use 'Knotted To Family Dog' In Narratives?

When you're a single mom and find out your daughter was switched at birth with an Alpha's pup 6yrs ago. He takes you to his mansion and throws a document at you to sign. "No, I won't leave my child... wait, a marriage contract???"

Noah Hunter kills monsters for a living. Werewolves, mostly. So craving one is a problem he can't afford, and craving Dax Holt, the cocky Alpha who keeps catching him and pinning him down like he enjoys the practice, could get him killed. Or worse. Claimed. Dax's wolf made up its mind the first night Noah came for him. One word, low and sure. Mine. Noah's got a girlfriend. A family who'd disown him. And a body that stopped listening to any of them the second a werewolf got his hands on it. But people are vanishing from their town, taken by something patient and cruel, and the only one who believes Noah is the monster he swore to kill. To stop it, they have to trust each other. Wanting each other was never part of the deal. Alpha/omega heat, knotting, fated mates who fight it tooth and claw. No Mpreg. Filthy, feral, and headed for a happy ending.

"Good morning.” She greeted as she peeked on my male's cheek with so much affection. And I could feel my heart start to bleed as the male destined for me smiled down at the female and kissed her temple with his heart oozing adoration. My wolf was on her hind legs staring at the female through my eyes. She fisted her hair and knotted them in a bun and my eyes fell on the glorifying fresh mark on her neck. I return my eyes to the male standing in front of me. That is when I noticed the angry red mark on his neck. And I could feel my heart shatter into a million pieces. The moment I found out that there was another life growing inside me, I was scared, I was terrified. But the instant I knew it was his, I was on my way to find him, to reclaim him after all those years of waiting. But fate had other plans, and I suppose the Goddess loved making my life a living hell. He was supposed to choose me, he was meant to love me, he was born to be mine. He was my other half, my soul mate. But he bore another's mark…he was mated to another.  

On Christmas Eve, my six-year-old, Yule, was dying from cancer, and all he wanted was a gift from his dad dressed as Santa. I called Peter, my husband, begging him to come. His reply? "Can you stop blowing up my phone? I don't have time for this! I'm helping Tracey find Puffy. Do you know how upset she is?" Oh, Tracey. His first love. And Puffy? Her dog. I told him Yule might not make it through the night. His response? A straight-up dagger: "Don't act like this isn't your fault, Freya. If Yule hadn't kicked Puffy, none of this would've happened. Tomorrow, make sure he apologizes to Tracey." Then he hung up. That night, I sat with Yule, crying as I helped him celebrate his last Christmas. By morning, Peter's social medias were still full of posts about that freaking dog. Mine? Yule's obituary. Ten years of marriage, gone.

When Adrian and I broke up, he knelt outside my door all night. When I finally agreed to get back together, he lit a bonfire in the main hall, invited the elders to witness it, and swore I would become his Luna. Then, right at the finish line of a racetrack, he hauled a trembling, sobbing blonde girl out of the “trophy,” draped his jacket over her shoulders, and turned gentle like he’d become a different man. He looked back at me and said, “Ann, don’t make a scene. She ended up like this because of us.” The next day, he said I should atone by pack law, kneel inside a vow circle drawn with salt and silver powder, and endure my wolf soul’s backlash under the moonlight. Later, he threw me into the basement she used to live in, forced me to survive the way she did, forced me to lower my head and apologize. What he didn’t know was that there was a little pup in my belly. And I wasn’t going to tell him. I’d wait until he was most off guard, slide the divorce papers in front of him, let him sign them with his own hand, then vanish cleanly and absolutely, with my child.

“And the night we met again,” I whisper, “my wolf recognized you.” Silence. “Recognized me how?” she asks carefully. My chest burns even as my pulse thunders in my ears. “As my mate.” The word falls between us like shattered glass. Avara laughs. “That’s not funny.” “I know.” “You’re my brother.” “I know.” I find myself inching closer… closer. “That’s impossible. This is sick.” “I know,” I say again, voice breaking now. “I fought it. Gods, I fought it. I tried to convince myself my instincts were wrong, that my wolf was broken, that I was losing my mind.” Her hands shake. “Stop.” “I can’t,” I say hoarsely. “Because every second I’m near you, it gets worse. Because my wolf wants to kneel at your feet and tear the world apart to protect you.” Avara stands abruptly, backing away until her spine hits the wall. “You’re lying.” “I wish I were.” …………………………… Fifteen years after vanishing from the Silvermoon pack, Kaeden Vane returns, older, lethal, and right on time at thirty-three, the age decreed by the Moon Goddess for succession, having spent years years amassing forbidden knowledge, mastering dangerous magic, and preparing to destroy his father, the man who murdered his mother in a bid for godhood. His return reunites him with Avara Vane, his seemingly fragile, human adopted sister that Silas, their father, adopted as an ‘act of mercy’. She is a Nyxarel, whose parents were slaughtered by the man she calls father and who has been conveniently placed and subdued by his father, until it is the right time to use her blood to attain immortality. And one touch is all it takes for Kaeden’s wolf to recognize her as his mate, an impossible, unforgivable bond…