Demon Motorcycle Club Novels & Stories

Salt Lake City, Utah The Highway Hellions MC Clubhouse Two days later Wolf pulled up to The Highway Hellions clubhouse, hoping that he looked far more relaxed than he actually felt. He was sure that there were eyes on him right now, and he doubted that any of them were friendly. Taking his time, moving deliberately, he opened the car door – this was the first car that he’d bought since joining The Road Devils, and it was a second-hand piece of shit, and he was already missing his motorcycle like he’d miss air – and stepped into the parking lot. He looked around, noted the MC businesses (a tattoo studio and a bar, somehow both compulsory when talking about biker clubs), and just the sight of

It didn’t matter if he thought he owned me. I was going to stick around for as long as I needed for this all to blow over, and then I was done with Jaguar Cook. We tore through the city limits and finally pulled up out front of the Demon Nest, the bar that served as the clubhouse for the Sandcastles MC. Jaguar parked the bike and climbed off, killing the engine. I followed him, not really sure what we were walking into. “Aren’t the other guys pissed about me?” I asked him. “Sure,” he said. “But Phoenix approved my claim. They can’t do shit about it unless they want my boot on their skull.”

impaling. You don't become the leader of a motorcycle club from being tender and caring, but I've seen nothing but that from Dominick. We grew up together and when his father and my mother separated, he came to live with us against his father's wishes. It's the reason his father sent him to Pelican Bay. Maine wasn't known for its thriving motorcycle clubs. His Colorado family considered running this small club his penance for the betrayal. Now he'd never take the reins from his father and inherit the large club he left in Colorado.

"And the Black Pistons? They're not just a motorcycle club, are they?" Her laugh is warm, genuine. "They are a motorcycle club. Just not only that." She begins walking again, guiding me past trees bearing fruit I've never seen—silver-skinned with flesh that glows from within. "The Black Pistons are primarily dragon shifters. The clubhouse serves as the heart of their territory, a place they can be themselves without hiding their true nature."

I'd been so careful for months, and now everything was ruined in one moment of mechanical failure. Then I heard the sound that made my blood run cold, the deep rumble of multiple motorcycles approaching. Heavy bikes. Harleys, from the sound of them. The crowd parted like the Red Sea as five riders rolled into the circle of light cast by the spectators' headlights. The lead rider dismounted with predatory grace. Even in the dim light, I recognized him. Everyone in Coldwater knew Dax Steele. Six-foot-three of leather-clad muscle, dark hair pulled back in a knot, and eyes that could cut through steel. The Vice President of the Iron Wolves Motorcycle Club.

And more specifically, asking about Cracker and Grace… Over the past week, men on black unmarked motorcycles had been spotted around the club and at my house. Driving up and down the road that led to Cracker’s and Steel’s place. We’d been trying to find out what MC, but they were smart and covered up their logo. Which really wasn’t good news.

I said deliberately, "It isn't your fault. Allison's death isn't your fault, your father's death isn't your fault. Stop blaming yourself for everything that goes wrong, sometimes we just have to accept things no matter how ugly they are." The agony I saw in his eyes made my heart break but I didn't stop speaking, "That's just how life is; one minute you have everything you could possibly want and the next you're being dragged down into this never ending pit of darkness. But you see, the dark isn't all that bad, once you accept it, once you stop panicking, you realize that the darkness is actually a part of you and you can't really fear something that is a part of you. You know, I've always s

She felt dated, and not in the ways that referred to the fruit or being taken out for a romantic dinner. She spotted a group of guys in one corner and narrowed her eyes to try to see them better, sure that they had to be a motorcycle club. No big surprise, because this place was a well-known MC hangout, though not exclusively. Jo had recently done plenty of research into motorcycle clubs, for obvious and self-defensive reasons, and was pretty fluent in MC culture now. Those matching leather vest things were cuts, worn over leather or jean jackets usually, and showing the club colors. Jo knew that if she got close enough, she’d see patches on the cuts. Some would show a guy’s rank in the club

She’s in full mother tiger mode. The talk with Linc goes as well as I expected. It ends with me sitting in the living room with my head back trying to keep my bloody nose from making a mess. I refused to defend myself because I completely understand his anger. Beth, the baby, and Shelby are next door. They’ll stay on Shelby’s side of the duplex until Dax arrives. Dax is another thing my brother’s angry about. Dax is the president of Desert Crows, an outlaw motorcycle club in Arizona. They have close ties with Moon’s organization but it’s not widely known. If Gimonde gets anywhere near the Crows’ compound, Dax and his men will defend their territory to the death.

Simon shook his head, this was all Damian's father's fault, if he has just let this young prince of De'Northa be. "you're in a servant and master bond?" "I have a plan," Damian said, ignoring simon's question, Simon ears perked up, "But you have to swear to be there with me till the end" Simon bowed, he could not and would never betray him, "I swear on my life" "Good" Damian said, glad that his own Knight still had his loyalty, "Now, let's bring back De'Northa shall we?" Simon's eyes open in shook, "my Lord?" but Damian had started walking down to the middle of the ruins to raise his hand, engulfing everywhere in purple smoke.