Page 116 of Knot Your Karma
“Declan,” I whisper, reaching for him with hands that won’t stop trembling.
More. I just need more, which would concern me if I had any brain cells left for self-reflection.
“Turn over,” he commands, and his voice carries the kind of rough authority that makes my omega brain goyes sirwithout consulting the rest of me. “On your hands and knees. Present for your alpha.”
The words send a shiver straight through me, and I scramble to obey because my omega biology has completely taken over rational thought. I get on all fours, arching my back.
“Perfect,” Declan growls behind me, hands gripping my hips with possessive strength. “So wet for me. So ready.”
When he pushes inside me from this angle, it’s completely different—deeper, more intense, hitting spots that make me see actual stars. My back arches as I try to take all of him.
“My omega,” he says, voice thick with possession as he starts to move. “My mate. My home.”
The pace he sets is relentless, each thrust driving me forward until I’m bracing myself against the headboard, sobbing with pleasure. This position lets him get so deep I canfeel him everywhere, which is probably not anatomically accurate but feels absolutely true.
“Forever,” he growls with each thrust, the word becoming rhythm and prayer. “All of us, forever. Pack and family and everything that matters.”
“Forever,” I gasp, because talking is hard when your alpha is systematically destroying your ability to think coherently.
Reed’s hands find my face, tilting it up so he can kiss me while Declan pounds into me from behind. Adrian’s fingers trace patterns on my spine, adding layers of sensation that make me tremble and clench around Declan’s cock.
“Come for me,” Declan commands, one hand reaching around to find my clit. “Come on your alpha’s cock. Show me you’re mine.”
The orgasm that rips through me is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced, probably because I’ve never had three men coordinating my destruction before. It starts deep in my core and explodes outward, making me scream and convulse while Declan drives into me with increasing desperation.
When his knot starts to swell, the stretch from this angle is almost too much, but in the way that makes you want more instead of less. I can feel every inch of it growing inside me, locking us together.
“Take it,” he groans, hands gripping my hips hard enough to bruise. “Take all of me. You’re mine now, officially and completely.”
His release triggers another orgasm that leaves me sobbing and shaking. When I finally collapse forward onto the bed, still locked to him by his knot, I’m pretty sure I’ve forgotten how to form words that aren’t variations ofpleaseandmoreandholy shit.
“Easy,” Declan murmurs, carefully maneuvering us onto our sides without pulling out, his arms wrapping around me protectively. “I’ve got you.”
We collapse together like we’ve been hit by a verysatisfying truck, which is probably not the most romantic way to describe post-bonding bliss but accurately captures the situation. I feel like I’ve been thoroughly demolished and rebuilt by three men who apparently have advanced degrees in omega satisfaction, and our combined scents are making the room smell like the kind of thing that would make other packs jealous.
“So,” Reed says eventually, his voice completely wrecked but still carrying that hint of smugness, “that was a successful bonding ceremony.”
“The ceremony was beautiful,” I manage, voice hoarse from all the screaming I’ve been doing. “This was... Reed, give me a minute to remember how words work.”
“This is just the beginning,” Adrian adds quietly, already tracing possessive patterns on my skin despite the fact that we’re all basically puddles at this point.
“Decades of this,” Declan confirms, his arms tightening around us while his knot keeps us locked together. “Forever.”
I close my eyes and try to process the fact that six months ago I was convinced I was destined for loneliness, and now I’m bonded to three incredible men who just proved that fairy tales can be real and very, very explicit.
“I love you,” I whisper into the golden afternoon light, my scent soft with the kind of satisfaction that goes bone-deep. “All of you. Always.”
“Always,” they echo, and the word sounds like promise, like home, like the best kind of forever.
This is what coming home feels like. This is what love is supposed to be.
This is our beginning.
Epilogue: Karma
Six Months Later
The afternoon light coming through our ridiculously expensive Boston windows is hitting this 1847 chronometer just right, which makes my job of figuring out if it’s authentic way more dramatic than it needs to be. Six months ago, I was counting crumpled bills at Grandma Rose’s register. Today, I’m examining pieces worth more than my old shop’s entire annual income, while wearing fuzzy slippers because working from home has its perks.
