Page 111 of Knot Your Karma
“Karma, will you speak your promises to your pack?”
I look at them and have one of those surreal moments where I’m likewait, these three men actually want to legally bind themselves to the woman who once ate cereal for dinner five days straight.But Declan’s steady presence, Adrian’s quiet devotion, and Reed’s absolute joy are making my vanilla go all sparkly, and I smell like celebration whether I want to or not.
“Six months ago, I was convinced I was meant to be alone. That love was something that happened to other people, that pack bonds were beautiful in theory but not meant for someone like me.” I begin weaving the golden cord through all the others, binding us together in truth as well as symbol, the silk warm and substantial between my fingers. “You guys proved me wrong about everything.”
My voice strengthens with certainty. “Declan, I promise to trust your protection while keeping my independence, to let you provide while contributing my own strength, to be the partner you deserve.”
I turn to Adrian, meeting those gentle gray eyes that see everything and judge nothing. “Adrian, I promise to see and value the man behind the thoughtful work, to create home with you wherever we go, to show you every day that love isn’t something you earn—it’s something you deserve just by being yourself.”
Finally, Reed, whose scent carries such joy it makes everyone in the circle unconsciously smile. “Reed, I promise to let you balance me when the world gets overwhelming, to laugh at your terrible jokes, to be your anchor when diplomatic solutions aren’t enough and you need someone who’ll simply stand with you.”
I look at all three of them, golden cord completing the binding of our hands in silk that catches the lighthouse beam. “I promise to choose all of you, every day, in every way thatmatters. I promise to build a life that honors what we’ve found together. I promise to love you with the kind of forever that actually means forever.”
Sterling steps forward, placing his hands over our bound ones with the reverence of someone who understands exactly what he’s witnessing. “By the power vested in me by the state of Rhode Island, and more importantly, by the love and support of this community, I now pronounce you a bonded pack. What you have chosen together, let no one separate.”
He produces the compass—our compass, the one that started everything—and places it in the center of our joined hands. The brass surface feels warm despite the winter air, as if it’s been waiting for this moment, which honestly it probably has been.This compass has been through more drama than a reality TV show.
“This compass once pointed toward separation and pain. Today, it points toward true north—toward home, toward love, toward the family you’ve chosen to build together.”
We hold the compass together, its brass surface warm against our palms, and I feel the rightness of this moment settle into my bones like truth made manifest. This is what Grandma Rose meant when she talked about things finding their way home.
“Now,” Sterling says with a grin that transforms his entire face with genuine joy, “I believe there’s a tradition about sealing these promises.”
Declan, Reed, and Adrian exchange a look of perfect understanding before moving closer. The kiss we share starts gentle—Declan’s lips finding mine first, then Reed’s mouth warm against my temple while Adrian’s hand cradles the back of my neck, four heartbeats syncing until our scents bloom outward like flowers opening to sunlight. Vanilla and cedar and ocean spray and sandalwood create a harmony so complete that several people in the circle sigh with unconscious appreciation.
When we break apart, the circle of witnesses erupts in cheers and applause that echoes off the lighthouse and carries across the harbor. Destiny’s makeup runs in precise tracks down her cheeks despite her waterproof mascara, but she’s smiling so hard it transforms her entire face, coffee scent bright with vicarious joy and something that might be her own newfound hope. Adrian’s mother is beaming with pride that radiates through her scent like sunlight, and even Declan’s father looks genuinely moved by what he’s just witnessed.
I catch Destiny’s eye across the circle, and she mouthsI believe nowwith a smile that looks like hope taking root.
“Before we adjourn to the reception,” Sterling calls over the celebration, his voice carrying easily despite the joyful noise, “there’s one more tradition I’d like to honor.”
He gestures to the gathered community with the kind of inclusive warmth that makes everyone feel essential to this moment. “In pack bonding ceremonies, it’s customary for the witnesses to offer their scents as blessing—a way of showing that this new family is welcomed and supported by their community.”
And then something happens that I definitely wasn’t prepared for, which is saying something because Reed planned this thing like a military operation.
People start approaching us. Not rushing—this isn’t a receiving line at some stuffy wedding—but moving with the kind of purpose that makes my throat tight. Destiny comes first, naturally, because she’s never met a moment she couldn’t improve with her presence.
“You did it,” she whispers against my ear, coffee scent mixing with something that might be tears, “you actually did it, you beautiful disaster.” And when she pulls back, I can smell her determination and affection clinging to the silk of my dress like a promise that she’ll always be in my corner.
Then Adrian’s mother, who hugs as if she’s been waitingmonths for permission, her lavender and quiet strength settling into the fabric at my shoulders. “Welcome to the family, dear,” she says, and the word “family” hits different when it comes from someone who raised the man who sees worth in broken things.
Reed’s parents approach together, his mother’s ocean scent layered with diplomatic warmth and his father’s steady presence mixing with approval that smells like harbor salt and old books. “We couldn’t be happier,” his mother says, and her scent carries the same mediation skills as her son, designed to make everyone feel included and valued.
Declan’s mother follows, her beta scent soft with maternal pride despite her husband’s obvious discomfort. She whispers something in my ear about grandbabies that makes me blush to my toes, her scent carrying hopes and dreams that taste like Sunday dinners and holiday traditions.
By the time the last person has offered their blessing, our combined scents have created something like a perfumed aurora—layers of coffee and ocean salt, pine and vanilla, determination and joy all swirling together until even the winter air tastes like celebration.
When Mom approaches, she hugs me close and whispers, “Your grandmother would be so proud, sweetheart. You found your way home,” her lavender scent carrying three decades of love and hope finally allowed to bloom.
Sterling is the last to approach, and when he embraces our pack, his scent carries something I’ve never noticed before—contentment, hope, and the kind of happiness that comes from watching love triumph over pain, mixed with the particular satisfaction of seeing pieces fall into their proper places.
“Thank you,” I whisper to him. “For everything. For seeing who I could be, for bringing us together, for helping Mom find her way back to you.”
“Thank you,” he replies, “for proving that some stories get the endings they deserve.”
The ceremony’s over.Like, officially over.I’m officially pack-bonded to three men who somehow convinced me I’m worth keeping.
“Ready for part two?” Reed asks, offering his arm as if we’re heading to a nice dinner instead of the reception he’s been planning.
