Page 47 of Knot Your Karma (Not Yours #1)

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 is the 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.”

My mouth finds the sensitive skin at the base of her spine, and the taste of her makes my cock twitch. She arches beneath me, her scent warming to those notes that mean desperate omega need, and I realize I’m grinning against her skin.

“Reed,” she gasps when my tongue traces patterns that make her hips rock back toward me. “Please?—”

“Please what?” I ask, mouth working lower. “Tell me exactly what you want. I’ve got all morning and very detailed plans. ”

“Want you to take your time,” she breathes, voice shaking with need. “Want to feel how different you are.”

“Oh, I’m going to show you,” I promise, hands spreading her wider so I can taste her properly.

When my mouth finds her center from behind, the access is incredible. I can work her with my tongue while my hands provide gentle guidance, can build her arousal layer by careful layer while watching every reaction.

“God, Reed,” she cries out, hips moving against my mouth. “That’s—oh, that feels?—”

“Like someone who’s been taking notes?” I ask between focused licks that make her sob my name. “Because I have been. About rhythm, pressure, exactly what makes you make those sexy little sounds.”

I work her slowly, carefully. When she comes hard against my mouth, I don’t stop. I keep nipping and licking until she’s bucking wildly against my mouth and her whole body trembles.

“One more,” I encourage.

“Reed,” she gasps, already building toward another peak under my relentless attention. “Can’t—too much?—”

“You can absolutely take it,” I assure her, adding fingers that curl exactly right while my tongue works her clit. “I know exactly how much you can handle, and it’s more than you think.”

The second orgasm hits her harder, back arching as she cries out my name. But I’m nowhere near finished—I work her through it, then immediately start building toward a third while she shakes and pleads beneath me. Incoherent words babbling from her mouth.

“God, you taste incredible,” I breathe against her, and when she makes that broken sound that means she’s getting close, I double down on exactly what’s making her fall apart.

By the time I let her come down from the third orgasm, she’s trembling and desperate, vanilla so sharp it makes the air thick with arousal, and I’m practically vibrating with the need to be inside her.

“Please,” she finally gasps, looking back at me with wild eyes. “Need you inside me, need to feel you?—”

“Perfect,” I breathe, positioning myself behind her, hands trembling slightly as I line up with her entrance.

When I push inside her, the sensation is overwhelming—she’s slick and swollen from multiple orgasms, hypersensitive in ways that make her cry out at the first thrust, and I have to pause to keep from embarrassing myself immediately.

“Fuck,” I groan, hands gripping her hips as I sink deep. “You feel so tight, so warm, so perfect.”

“Yes,” she gasps, pushing back against me. “Feels so intense, like every nerve is perfectly tuned?—”

“Christ,” I breathe, pulling out slowly before sinking back in, and the sensation makes me see stars. “This is going to be over way too fast if you keep doing that thing with your?—”

I find my rhythm—steady, deliberate, nothing like the urgent claiming I watched last night. This is mine, this approach I’ve been thinking about for weeks, and when I hit that angle that makes her cry out, I know I’ve found exactly what I was looking for.

“Right there,” she gasps, and I adjust slightly, one hand moving to her clit while the other guides her hips. “Reed, that’s—oh god?—”

“Been planning this for weeks,” I admit roughly, maintaining that perfect rhythm that’s making her shake beneath me. “How I’d touch you, what would drive you crazy, how I could make you completely fall apart.”

She makes a sound that’s half-scream, half-sob when I hit that perfect combination, and I can feel her entire body tensing beneath me like a wire about to snap.

“That’s it,” I encourage, feeling her building toward something that’s going to completely wreck us both .

“Ready for my bite?” I ask, leaning forward so my mouth is at her neck, still moving inside her with gentle strokes.

“Yes,” she breathes. “Want your bite, want to be yours.”

I position my mouth at the junction of her neck and shoulder. Beta bites don’t create bonds—this is purely for us, a mark that says she chose me, that I chose her, that whatever we’re building together matters.

“This one’s just for us,” I murmur against her skin. “No bonding agents, no biological imperative. Just because I want everyone to know you’re mine.”

“Do it,” she whispers.

When I bite down just as another orgasm builds through her, she arches beneath me with a cry that’s pure pleasure and relief. The mark I leave is clean, deliberate—not a bond, but a promise.

“Reed,” she gasps, hands reaching back to tangle in my hair while I lick the bite mark. “That felt... different than I expected. Good different.”

“Because it’s not about biology,” I explain, still moving inside her while my own release builds. “It’s about choice. About us.”

My orgasm crashes through me like a tidal wave, ocean breeze and vanilla colliding in a violent symphony as liquid heat explodes between us.

When I shatter completely, every cell in my body screams the truth we’ve forged in fire—this belongs to us alone.

Not pack bond. Not biological claiming. This is me and Karma burning down the universe and building a new one from the ashes of who we were before we chose each other.

Reed’s forehead drops to rest between my shoulder blades as his breathing steadies, one hand splayed possessively across my ribs while the other tangles with mine. “That was...” he starts, then just pulls me closer instead of finishing.

“How do you feel?” I ask, settling beside her while she touches the fresh bite mark .

“Like this was exactly what I needed,” she says. “Like you understand me in ways that have nothing to do with designation.”

That’s when I notice we’re no longer alone. Declan and Adrian are awake, watching us with expressions of warmth and approval.

“Beta claiming suits you,” Declan says simply.

“Looks good on both of you,” Adrian adds.

“Is this how it’s supposed to feel?” Karma asks, one hand pressed to the bite mark. “Like everything makes sense now?”

“When it’s right, yeah,” I confirm, pulling her against my chest while ocean breeze settles into deep contentment. “We’re not bonded pack yet—that takes all of us together—but we’re definitely something.”

“What are we?” she asks softly.

“We’re getting there,” I say simply. “One step at a time.”

We settle into comfortable silence, pack scent mixing in ways that speak to growing harmony. Outside, Boston is beginning to wake up, but inside our suite, something important has shifted.

We’re not bonded pack yet—that will require all of us together, with alpha bonding agents to seal the connection permanently. But we’re building something real, something chosen, something that has nothing to do with biology and everything to do with the fact that we fit.

“So,” I say eventually, satisfaction warm in my voice. “Ready to face Sterling as a united front?”

“Ready for anything,” Karma says, vanilla warm with confidence.

“Sterling has no idea what he’s dealing with,” Declan agrees.

“Let’s go get our compass,” Adrian adds.

But first, we have whatever this is to celebrate. Because this morning, something important changed.

This morning, we chose each other.