Page 44 of Knot Your Karma (Not Yours #1)

Karma

The Harborview Historic Inn lives up to its name—our suite overlooks Boston Harbor through leaded glass windows, with maritime prints on the walls and furniture that speaks to centuries of New England craftsmanship.

It’s beautiful, expensive, and exactly the kind of place that should make me feel out of place.

Instead, I feel like I belong here.

“Sterling expects us to stay somewhere that projects competence,” Declan says, setting our bags down with careful precision. “This does the job.”

“This place is incredible,” Reed observes, loosening his tie as he settles into one of the wingback chairs. “Sterling definitely knows how to make an impression. Plus, Karma just gave Blake a masterclass in how to handle your toxic ex. We should probably charge admission for that performance.”

The pride in his voice makes something warm bloom in my chest, but it’s different from the protective concern I’m used to. This feels like appreciation for my strength rather than worry about my vulnerability.

“I can’t believe I actually hung up on him,” I admit, curling into the other chair. “I’ve never hung up on anyone in my life. What if that was too harsh? What if I should have—no, actually, you know what? I’m not apologizing for standing up for myself.”

“First time for everything,” Adrian says, finishing his security check before apparently deciding our accommodations are adequate. “Good result.”

“Blake got exactly what he deserved,” Declan states with satisfaction. “Question is—can you bring that backbone to Sterling tomorrow?”

The reminder of why we’re here settles over the room like weight. Tomorrow night. Sterling’s private viewing. Whatever test he has planned for my expertise and our pack dynamics.

“I’ve been thinking about that, and probably overthinking it, which is what I do, but hear me out,” I say.

“Sterling called this a ‘private viewing’ and specifically requested my maritime expertise. But he also mentioned several pieces he wants my opinion on, which feels like a test disguised as a consultation.”

“Ah, the classic ‘let’s see if you’re actually competent or just confident’ maneuver,” Reed says with diplomatic insight. “I’ve seen that in diplomatic circles. Usually right before someone tries to make you look like an amateur.”

“Control the workspace, control the project,” Adrian adds grimly. “Standard intimidation.”

“Except he doesn’t know what he’s dealing with,” I point out, confidence building as I think through the challenge.

“I’ve been authenticating maritime pieces since I was sixteen.

I can spot a reproduction sextant from across a room and identify brass polish that’s trying to age new fittings.

Though what if his pieces are really sophisticated fakes?

What if I miss something obvious and embarrass all of us? ”

“Solid foundation,” Adrian says simply. “You know your craft.”

“Plus,” Reed adds with diplomatic satisfaction, “Sterling thinks he’s dealing with desperate family members who’ll mortgage their firstborn for a compass.

He doesn’t know he’s actually negotiating with someone who could expose his entire questionable authentication network if things go sideways.

It’s like bringing a maritime expert to a forgery fight. ”

The weight of their absolute faith in my abilities settles around me like pack scent—protective but not suffocating, supportive without diminishing my agency.

“We should order room service,” Adrian suggests with practical efficiency. “Research Sterling’s collection online, plan approach.”

“Good thinking,” I agree, then pause as something occurs to me. “You know what’s funny?”

“What?”

“Six months ago, Blake’s phone call would have sent me into an anxiety spiral that lasted for weeks.

I would have spent hours analyzing every word, wondering what I did wrong, trying to figure out how to fix things,” I say, uncurling from the chair.

“Today I told him exactly what he deserved to hear and immediately started planning how to handle our next challenge.”

The silence that follows feels different from our usual pack processing.

“That’s what pack does,” Adrian says simply. “Makes you brave enough to be yourself.”

“It’s more than that,” I say, moving to the window where Boston Harbor spreads out below us like scattered stars. “It’s not just that you make me feel safe enough to speak up. It’s that you make me feel valuable enough to fight for what I want.”

When I turn back, all three are watching me with expressions I can’t quite name—part pride, part wonder, part something that makes my chest tight with emotion.

“Come here,” Declan says, his voice drops into that tone that makes me want to do whatever he suggests, which should probably concern me but doesn’t.

I cross the room slowly, and when I reach the bed, Declan’s hands find my waist, pulling me to stand between his knees.

“You know what I kept thinking during that phone call?” he asks, blue eyes holding mine with alpha intensity.

“What?”

“I kept thinking that’s my omega. Standing up for herself, choosing herself, refusing to be diminished,” his hands spread against my ribcage, warm through expensive fabric. “Strong and confident and absolutely gorgeous when she knows her worth.”

“Our omega,” Reed corrects, rising from his chair . “And definitely worth celebrating. Though I have to say, watching you hang up on Blake was incredibly satisfying. Like justice served with a side of perfect timing.”

“Celebrating what?” I ask, though my pulse is already picking up as pack scent begins to shift around us.

“Everything,” Adrian says, moving to stand beside the bed. “Blake’s call proved something important—you’re not the same omega who let herself be diminished for months. You’re someone who hangs up on manipulation and immediately starts planning the next victory.”

“That feels worth acknowledging,” Reed agrees, something different threading through his voice. “Worth doing properly. And by properly, I mean I think I want to coordinate this celebration. Make sure you get exactly what you deserve.”

The air in the room shifts into something that’s definitely going to lead to clothing removal, which should probably make me nervous but instead makes me think about how good the thread count is on these hotel sheets.

“How do you want to celebrate?” I ask, stepping closer until I’m surrounded by pack scent and pack attention.

“However you want,” Declan says, hands sliding up to frame my face. “This is about you, about recognizing how far you’ve come.”

“Then I want...” I pause, processing what I actually want instead of what I think I should want. “I want to feel cherished. Not just protected or cared for, but genuinely cherished for who I am instead of who I might become.”

The response is immediate—three bodies going still with the kind of attention that means pack is reading omega signals and very much approving of the direction this is taking.

“We can absolutely do that,” Reed says softly, ocean breeze carrying genuine tenderness. “Actually, I think I want to watch this one. Want to see exactly how beautiful you look when Declan and Adrian show you what celebrating feels like.”

“Want to direct them?” I ask, surprising myself with how breathless I sound.

“Think of me as your personal pleasure coordinator,” Reed settles back into the wingback chair like he’s conducting a very exclusive orchestra, except instead of violins we have alpha territorial instincts and honestly, watching him coordinate this is probably the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.

“It’s like diplomatic relations, but with significantly better benefits and a much more interesting outcome. ”

The way he talks about me makes something clench low in my belly that has nothing to do with nerves and everything to do with how much I want this.

“Show her what protection feels like when it’s worship,” Reed addresses Declan. “Make sure she understands exactly how precious she is.”

Reed’s coordination is both incredibly hot and slightly unfair, because watching him direct Declan and Adrian like he’s got a PhD in pack dynamics is doing things to my arousal levels that probably violate several laws of biology.

Declan’s mouth finds mine with renewed purpose, kissing with the kind of reverent intensity that tastes like admiration rather than possession.

“So proud of you,” he murmurs against my lips, blue eyes flicking to Reed for approval before returning to me.

“So proud of your strength, your intelligence, your absolute refusal to settle for less than you deserve.”

“That’s perfect,” Reed encourages from his chair, ocean breeze warm with satisfaction. “Show her what that strength looks like to alpha eyes. Make her understand why we can’t stop staring at her.”

Declan’s fingers work each button of my blouse with deliberate slowness, his mouth following the path of revealed skin with kisses that make me shiver. “So beautiful,” he whispers against my collarbone. “Every inch worth celebrating.”

“Look at her skin,” Reed’s voice carries rough appreciation.

“Look how she responds to gentle worship instead of demanding claiming. That’s what our omega needed—reverence, not conquest. And yes, I realize I sound like I’m narrating a nature documentary about pack dynamics, but honestly? This is fascinating.”

Adrian moves behind me at some unspoken signal from Reed. His hands span my waist as silk falls away, thumbs tracing circles that make vanilla spike with anticipation.

“Worth building something permanent around,” Adrian breathes against my ear .

“Exactly right,” Reed murmurs, and I can hear the smile in his voice. “Both of you, working together to make her feel treasured. That’s exactly what celebration should look like.”