Page 86 of Knot Your Karma
“Cherished,” I answer honestly. “Genuinely cherished instead of managed or protected or fixed.”
“Good,” Declan presses a kiss to my temple. “Because that’s exactly what you are.”
“Ready for tomorrow?” Adrian asks.
“Ready for anything,” my voice actually sounds unshakeable. “We’ve got pack unity, professional expertise, and the absolute certainty that we belong together. Sterling doesn’t know what he’s dealing with.”
“He’s about to find out,” Declan’s voice carries quiet satisfaction.
He sure as hell is.
Reed
I wake before the others,which is typical—but this morning, I wake with a very specific agenda.
This isn’t regular morning arousal. This is the kind of focused need that comes from spending an entire night coordinating everyone else’s pleasure while my own biology sat in the backseat taking detailed notes.
Apparently watching my pack claim our omega while I managed logistics was educational in ways I wasn’t expecting, and now my instincts have some very specific opinions about getting my turn.
Dawn light filters through the hotel’s heavy curtains, painting everything in soft gold, and I take a moment to appreciate the scene. Karma sleeps peacefully between my alphas, auburn hair spread across expensive pillows.
I slip from the bed carefully, not wanting to wake the others yet. I want a hot shower while I wait for Karma to wake up. Also it give me something else to focus on aside from how beautiful she looks even asleep.
The shower is supposed to give me a clean slate for claiming, but instead, the hot water pounds against skin that’s been tight with want for hours, and all I can think about isthe conversation I had with myself at three AM about approach and technique and making sure this is perfect for her.
Because I’ve turned into the kind of person who plans intimate encounters like diplomatic summits, complete with contingency strategies and desired outcomes. This is either incredibly thoughtful or slightly obsessive. Probably both.
When I return to the bedroom, Karma is just beginning to stir, one hand reaching toward where I stand beside the bed.
“Reed?” she murmurs, eyes still closed but already reaching toward where I stand beside the bed.
“Right here, beautiful,” I say, though my voice comes out rougher than my usual diplomatic tone. “Been waiting for you to wake up.”
Her eyes open slowly, focusing on my face, and I see the exact moment she takes in my expression—the carefully leashed need, the fact that I’m looking at her like she’s the solution to every problem I’ve been carrying.
“You look...” she starts, then trails off.
“Like I’ve been planning this for weeks?” I finish, settling on the edge of the bed. “Because I have been. Thinking about exactly how I want to claim you, what approach will work best for your biology, how to make sure this is perfect.”
She stretches carefully, mindful of sleeping alphas, and the movement makes something possessive clench in my chest. “Show me,” she says simply.
When I lean down to kiss her, it’s not the gentle approach I usually take. Weeks of watching, coordinating, managing everyone else’s needs while my own built to breaking point—it all pours out in the way my mouth claims hers with focused hunger.
“Okay, so I have a confession,” I breathe against her lips. “I’ve been taking notes. Mental notes, but still notes. About exactly what makes you fall apart, what you respond to, how to drive you absolutely crazy.”
“That’s very you,” she gasps, hands threading through my hair. “Researching intimate techniques like a project.”
“Which should probably embarrass me more than it does,” I admit. “But I want to take you from behind—not because I need to control everything, but because I want to focus completely on your reactions, make sure I’m giving you exactly what your body needs. Plus, beta stamina means I can be ridiculously thorough, and I’ve been planning this approach for weeks.”
The words make her scent spike sharp with arousal, and suddenly she’s moving, positioning herself exactly how I need her. Hands braced on expensive sheets, knees spread wide, back arched in perfect invitation.
“Like this?” she asks, looking back over her shoulder with trust that makes something fundamental shift in my chest.
“Perfect,” I breathe, settling behind her. “Absolutely perfect. And Karma? Fair warning—I plan to be very thorough about this.”
From this position, I can see everything—the curve of her spine, the way she’s already responding with slick, the marks Declan and Adrian left on her skin. But most importantly, I can focus entirely on her reactions without any distractions.
“Been thinking about this exact position for weeks,” I admit, hands gentle on her waist. “How you’d respond, what would feel best for you, how I could use my advantages to drive you absolutely crazy.”
