Binding Knot Novels & Stories

“Something to bind it. To make it permanent.” Sloane, whose hands were usually steady, felt a strange tremor as she traced the old design. Her fingers tingled where they touched his skin, which was unnaturally warm. “I can work with this. I have a design in mind. A binding rune, based on old Norse protection symbols. It will integrate the original knot.” He merely nodded, his intense gaze fixed on her. “Do it.”

A woman said, "Some forms we attempt to revive don't require revivification. Quiet release alone." Elira drew a pencil along the edges of a common diagram. "And some come back, not in charge, but in cadence." Someone nodded. "Rhythm is less difficult to believe than decree." They didn't raise hands. They raised meaning. --- 11:38 AM — Sector W, Thread-Reed Marsh Binders Tall reeds flicked in the breeze, their thin stalks looped with hand-twisted cords. It was a new binding technique—using growth tension instead of synthetic weave.

The sound rolled through the circle, deep and grounding. “Bind the bond,” she called. “Not as a bridge. As a knot.” A knot. Not a line. Not something that can be pulled straight until it snaps. Kieran swallowed hard. “Do you know how to do that?” “No,” I said. “But I know how to hold you.” The pull surged, sudden and sharp. The world lurched. The crack in the earth screamed. “He’s lifting again!” a voice cried. Kieran’s feet left the stone. Just a breath. Just a finger’s width. But it was enough to terrify me.

She smiles and nods. “Thanks.” He follows her to the point under the rope and remains underneath her as she climbs up to the point where she needs to tie the knot. She starts the knot with one hand, gripping one end in her teeth. Then grunts when it doesn’t want to tighten properly. She climbs up a bit further, wrapping the top rope around her leg to keep her in place. She then rotates so she’s head down and her hands are free.

“Do you understand?” I nodded, certain he meant what he said. He bent down to cut a piece of fabric from the blanket. The edges of the long strip were uneven and frayed, and I was thankful for the soft fabric as he tied my wrists behind my back. He pulled the fabric tight and knotted it, and I knew there was no way my human form would be able to get free of the bond, even though I could grasp either end of the tattered cloth band.

But emotion ran high — in the glisten of Augustus’s eyes, in Julian’s quiet smile, in the way Marisol’s hands trembled as she passed them the ceremonial binding cord. It was a strip of cloth, made from the combined threads of Ember’s old photography shawl and Asher’s childhood tunic — knotted three times by pack hands under the full moon. Marisol wound it around their joined hands. “With earth, with blood, with bone — we bind you,” she said. “With choice, with love, with fate — we bless you.” The moment they were declared bonded, the howls came again — louder now, full-throated and fierce, echoing through the forest like a song that had been waiting generations to be sung again.

In the center of cords was a Celtic nine knot that had Siobhan’s luckenbooth and then the Urquhart and Saints emblems on either side of it. Knuckles wiped away tears from Nessie’s cheeks. “It’s perfect, lass. Oh, I love me girls.” Nessie said softly. “You’re a lucky woman, sister.” Ciara said moving Knuckles hand to Nessie’s. “Blessed by the goddess, blessed by love and blessed by me.” She draped the flat knot over their joined left hands and wrapped the remaining cords artfully around their hands and wrists three times. “I bind these two, she to he and he to she. By power of three, so mote it be.”

"What did you mean by formal? How can restraining someone be formal?" "The Japanese have a very stylized way of applying ropes, it is called Shibari, sometimes Kinbaku. The ropes are made of hemp, they are thirty feet long and you double them up and tie very precisely formed and placed knots," Mike explained. "That sounds very interesting," she said. "Where did you learn about that stuff?" "I had a Japanese friend in college, she liked being tied. She was teaching me technique and knots. She flunked out and went back to Chicago. I never really got much out of it except as a new experience."

The knots, warm and pulsing, settled within her, a constant reminder of their presence, their claim. The room was silent, save for the sound of their ragged breaths. Lucas and Jake held her close, their bodies pressed against hers, their warmth enveloping her. They stroked her hair, kissed her neck, whispered words of comfort and reassurance. The physical act of knotting was more than just a sexual release; it was a bonding, a merging of souls, a sealing of their fates.

He looked up. Stephens smiled. "You learned well." Nathanial rarely spoke, but he needed to communicate too badly at that moment. "May I do another, sir?" The bodyguard's eyes brightened, his smile deepened, and he nodded. Nathanial double looped the rope and then wove the next knot. He asked to tie another and then another. "I made my own knot, sir. May I show you?" "Yes, lad, show me your design." The knot was a combination of several, and Nathanial closed his eyes and let his fingers construct the picture in his mind. When finished, he looked at the weave covering Stephens' lower arm.