Page 110 of Knot Your Karma
“They make me feel as if maybe I did.”
Sterling approaches with the measured pace of someone who’s officiated important ceremonies before, though I suspect this one carries more personal significance than any business transaction. His expensive cologne mixes with the salt air, creating something that smells like success tempered by genuine warmth.
“Karma, you look radiant,” he says warmly, his smile transforming his entire face with paternal affection. “Are you ready to make this official?”
“More than ready.”
“Excellent. Lilli, would you like to take your seat? I believe we’re about to begin.”
Mom squeezes my hand once more before moving to join the circle of witnesses, her lavender scent lingering as comfort and encouragement. Sterling moves to the center, and oh God, this is actually happening.
Like, happening happening.My vanilla spikes with the kind of panic that tastes likewait, did I remember deodorant?because apparently my brain thinks personal hygiene is the real crisis here.
“Friends, family, and community,” Sterling begins, and his voice has that same confident warmth he uses when closing million-dollar deals, except this time he’s selling the idea that four people can actually make this work forever. Which,honestly, sounds way more impossible than any business transaction when you put it like that. “We’re here today to witness something remarkable. Four people choosing each other, not just for today or this season, but for all the seasons to come.”
I look around the circle of faces—Destiny beaming with pride though I catch her glancing toward Reed’s cousin with the kind of interest that suggests maybe she’s finally ready to believe in possibilities, Adrian’s mother dabbing at her eyes with the same quiet dignity her son carries, Reed’s family listening with the kind of attention that suggests they understand how significant this moment is. Even Declan’s parents seem moved by the gravity of what we’re about to do.
“Karma, Declan, Reed, Adrian,” Sterling continues, “please step forward and form your own circle within ours.”
We move to the center, and this is where it gets real.Like, really real.I’m holding hands with three men who somehow convinced themselves I’m worth forever, and my palms are definitely sweating despite the December air.
Our scents start doing that thing where they spiral together—vanilla threading through cedar like silk through strong wood, ocean spray dancing around sandalwood until the four scents create something that makes everyone in the circle unconsciously lean closer, drawn to the harmony.
Through our bonds, I feel their emotions—Declan’s steady certainty as his hand tightens on mine, Reed’s barely contained joy in the way his eyes shine, Adrian’s quiet contentment in how his shoulders settle. Several omegas in the circle close their eyes with wistful sighs at whatever we must look like together.
“The bonds you’re formalizing today didn’t begin with this ceremony,” Sterling says, producing a length of silk cord in deep blue that catches the winter light like water. “They began the moment you chose to see value in each other, toprotect and support and love without reservation. Today, we simply make visible what your hearts already know.”
Sterling holds out the first cord to Declan, and I watch my alpha’s hands—those same hands that have guided me through panic attacks and organized my entire life—reach for this piece of silk as if it’s the most important thing he’s ever touched.
Which, okay, it probably is. No pressure or anything.
His fingers don’t shake, because of course they don’t. Declan doesn’t do shaking. He does steady, reliable,I’ve got this handled even when this is promising forever to a woman who still sometimes hides in her shop when emotions get too big.
“Declan, as alpha of this pack, will you speak your promises first?”
Declan looks at each of us in turn before settling his gaze on me, and the intensity in his eyes makes my breath catch.
“Karma Rose, months ago I came looking for a stolen compass and found something infinitely more valuable.” He begins wrapping the cord around our joined hands, each loop deliberate and meaningful. “A woman who sees worth in broken things, who creates beauty from forgotten pieces, who taught me that the best treasures choose you back. I promise to protect you, to provide for you, to be the steady presence you can count on. I promise to value your independence while offering belonging, to support your dreams while building our future.”
His voice roughens with emotion. “I promise to love you with the consistency you deserve, the loyalty you deserve, and the kind of forever that actually means forever.”
Sterling produces a second cord, this one in silver-gray that seems to capture and hold the winter light, and hands it to Adrian. My gentle craftsman takes it as if he’s accepting responsibility for something precious, which I guess he is.
“Adrian, will you speak your promises?”
Adrian’s sandalwood spikes with nervous energy. “Karma, you taught me love isn’t something you earn through perfect work. You taught me that being seen for who I am is more precious than any project I could complete.” The gray cord joins the blue around our hands with gentle movements that speak to years of working with delicate things. “I promise to build you a home in every sense—not just walls and rooms, but safety and comfort and space where you can be completely yourself.”
He pauses, gray eyes serious and unwavering. “I promise to show you every day that you’re worth choosing, worth keeping, worth the thoughtful attention I give to everything I love.”
Reed steps forward to receive the third cord—ocean blue that seems to shift and dance with the winter breeze like water made solid.
“Reed, your promises?”
“Karma Rose,” Reed begins, and his diplomat’s composure cracks slightly with emotion, “you taught me that real harmony isn’t avoiding conflict—it’s having people willing to work through difficulties together. You showed me that being needed isn’t the same as being valued, and that the right person wants you around even when everything’s perfect.” The blue cord weaves through the others. “I promise to be your mediator when the world gets overwhelming, your advocate when you can’t speak for yourself, your source of lightness when everything feels heavy.”
His scent goes soft and sweet, carrying notes of joy and determination. “I promise to make you laugh every single day and to remind you that you’re not responsible for fixing everyone else’s problems—you’re only responsible for being gloriously, authentically yourself.”
Now it’s my turn. Sterling offers me the final cord—golden silk that gleams like candlelight and seems to pulse with warmth against my palm. My hands are definitelyshaking now, but not from nerves. From the sheer overwhelming reality that this is actually happening.
