Novel & Cerita Chosen Souls Motorcycle Club

I drifted right back into what felt familiar — the vices that had slept and woken beside me for two years. Violence. Rivalry. Control. I joined a motorcycle club. On the surface, it looked just like any other — about twenty adrenaline junkies obsessed with bike racing and supporting each other through life’s struggles. Actually, it didn’t. The name was Devil’s Machete MC and if that wasn’t suggestive enough, the motto read; “If you see the machete without a sheath, you have one second left to breathe.”

The crowd grew quiet, waiting as she began to speak. “Under the full light of the Moon Goddess, we gather,” she intoned in a calm voice. “To bind two souls in unity, strength, and eternal loyalty. Tonight, Alpha Alec of Night Crescent Pack and Amanda Graymoon of the Graymoon Pack join as one — bound by blood, by vow, and by destiny.” Elder Rowan stepped forward and dipped his staff into the glowing moonwater. He lifted it, letting droplets fall onto the altar stone, making a hissing sound before turning into a thin silver mist.

‎ ‎In werewolf culture, **mates were sacred**. ‎The Moon Goddess herself chose them. ‎ ‎To reject one was rare. ‎ ‎To ignore one was impossible. ‎ ‎Yet there was a complication. ‎ ‎“She’s human,” Lucian said quietly. ‎ ‎Cigar raised a brow. ‎ ‎“Well… that explains why you look like someone stole your throne.” ‎ ‎Lucian shot him a warning glance. ‎ ‎Cigar chuckled. ‎ ‎“Relax. If the Moon Goddess chose a human for the most powerful Alpha alive, she probably had a reason.”

All would have the club logo or insignia. For just a minute, Jo toyed with the idea of picking up a motorcycle man… she briefly indulged in a fantasy of peeling off layers of leather, of running her fingers over the inevitable tattoos on his body, of moaning a sexy road name (like Chains, or Rider, or Brute) as he took her trembling body over and over.

This was just the beginning, and our story was far from over. “Get on, we need to go,” Armando said, his voice firm yet laced with urgency. He leaned onto his motorcycle and kicked the kickstand up as I climbed onto the back, my fingers instinctively wrapping around his tight waist. I leaned my head against his back, feeling the cool leather of his jacket beneath my cheek. The bold logo of his crew stood out prominently—a devil in the center flanked by two pitchforks, all surrounded by the lettering: *Demented Devils MC*.

“Wow, she is your daughter, yet you lock her in and try to force her on someone she doesn't want. That speaks so much of you as parents.” Thick silence falls over the room. No words are exchanged until we leave the mansion. Outside, my mouth fell open on the fleet of bikes with an insignia of a silver wolf howling at a cobalt moon, framed by broken chains — symbolizing freedom, loyalty, and ferocity. The smell of gasoline and danger was thick in the air. At the same time, they raised their chins, helmet in between their left armpits, and then bowed. “Welcome to the BlueMoon Reapers MC,” they chorused.

I say and I leave the room and head to the lift and step inside. “Ok, honey, love you. See you later.” He shouts before he laughs, and I scowl at him. He is getting into character early. I roll my eyes as the lift moves. I make it down to my Suzuki Hayabusa in matt black with red trim. I start her up and head towards the one place I know he will be. The damn Princes Of Darkness MC Clubhouse. Could this get anymore fucked up? Of course it can.

For one awful second, she saw only leather, then the cut shifted beneath her hand. And there, stitched across the front of his vest in heavy block letters, were the words that made her entire past rise up like a corpse from shallow ground: HIGHWAY HELLIONS MC UTAH. Nala stared at the patch, her breath leaving her body in one slow, terrible exhale. A motorcycle club. Of course. Of fucking course.

said Zhou, looking guilty, "I'm sorry. But I'm only a lone man. An independent warrior who's alone and helpless against the might of the Cult. That was why I had been keeping it a secret." Chu Xun nodded, indicating his understanding. Members of the Broken Souls Cult were known to be merciless butchers in the underworld of the Martial Tao domain; a bunch of unruly and wicked thugs that even strong organizations feared and gave a wide berth to. The mention of men hooded and cloaked in black garb already had Chu Xun thinking of the Cultists earlier and now Zhou's confirmation only made it certain. "I am grateful for this," said Chu Xun. He waved a hand over the table and tens of magical shrubs

Daddy had only smiled in response then continued, "the Shadow Clan Alpha founded a motorcycle club called Club Casablanca, and the thought of wolves riding motorcycles leaves the elders of the Blue River Clan feeling uneasy." "They must be really bad Daddy," I would then reply, lying on my bed. "Yes, my love. They sure are. Respectable wolves like us shouldn't have anything to do with them. Do you know, that motorcycle club is a sign of the Shadow Clan's lack of respect for the ways of nature. It's a direct and defiant challenge to our own traditions and values." I'd ask him, “Is that why we should always stay away from them Daddy?” And he would reply, "Yes dear. The elders of the Blue River