The Camel Club Novels & Stories

Then I looked up and saw a small building with a wooden sign that said The Howling Hearth. Caspian slowed to a walk, still holding my hand. “Here we are.” I stared at it. “A clubhouse?” “Best one in Ironmoor,” he said, grinning. “They do karaoke on Tuesdays.” I blinked. “Karaoke?” “Karaoke,” he confirmed. “And spicy turkey wings. You haven’t lived until you’ve tried them. I stared at the small clubhouse hidden between several shops. Then looked back at him. “You’re the Lycan King.”

Scar The Oak Club is the most exclusive invitation-only club on the planet. More exclusive than Bohemian Grove. More exclusive than the nuclear bunkers under the White House. It sits at the end of a long, private driveway, hidden behind high concrete walls lined with crushed glass and dotted by security cameras. Men in dark suits wander the scrubby grounds between the public world and the private oasis beyond. The scrubland gives way to a gorgeous ocean of green grass, shrubs, flowers, and trees, with the club itself in the center of all that gorgeously manicured plant life.

How could my mother be okay with all this nonsense? After a few minutes' drive, Colby pulled up in front of the club. This club was strategically located on the outskirts of my pack territory for a reason. I didn't want the judgmental Wolf Council to get wind of my activities. As I exited the vehicle, assisted by Colby, I took in the vibrant scene. The club was already pulsating with energy, evident from the long queue of patrons eagerly waiting outside.

I pick up one of my drinks and put it onto my tray and begin to walk around picking up glasses from the club. The music is loud and the women are sexy. With the warmth of the alcohol in my blood, I start to smile as I walk around and get on with my job. I do like it here. I bend to pick up a glass from a table, but when I glance up, I freeze on the spot. Cameron is standing with a large group of men, a drink and cigar in each hand, laughing loudly and having fun.

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

The Black Skulls were a much larger MC than ours, and therefore, not all members knew each other, which was perfect for me. I found my bike that was conspicuously hidden among the other bikes. Some miles down the road I peeled off the Black Skull emblem, and the snarling wolf came back into view. Smiling to myself, I felt a surge of pride at seeing it. The Wolf Riders MC! I pulled up at the club and hurried inside. Ignoring the whistles and hoots I got, I hurried up the stairs, all the way to the top floor, and entered our apartment. “Sweetheart! I’m home!” I called out the second I entered. I’d already pulled off the tie and the suit jacket followed soon after...

“He's checking some things out at the club.” “Club?” I asked with a frown. “Yes,” Nicola said. “One of Alessandro's power plants is in a club.” “What's the name of the club?” I asked calmly. “Luna Nera,” Nicola said confidently. “It's one of the biggest, most famous, and most successful clubs in Europe.” “They feature European artists,” Loreta said. “So that keeps the anticipation going.” I nodded and got curious. Nicola finished her coffee, picked up a few things, and left.

Chapter 17: Double life at Karnegie Country club Thanks to Rachel's recommendation, I landed a job as a waitress at the prestigious Karnegie Club, found in 1736. The Karnegie Club, oh boy, where do I even begin? The members walk around like they own the place, probably because they do. It's like stepping into a world where everyone's last name is engraved on a golden plaque, and if yours isn't, well, good luck getting past the front gate. It was like stepping into a scene from a movie where the rich and famous mingled with the absurdly posh. The walls were adorned with paintings of ancient ancestors who probably never lifted a finger in their lives, except perhaps to ring a bell for their se

At the Red Lion Club, the world narrowed to heartbeats and whispered orders. Luca and Rafe took the rear entrance. Matteo and two others flanked the side. Riccardo and Camilla went through the front. The club was deceptively quiet inside—red velvet curtains, dim lights, the smell of expensive cigars lingering in the air. At first glance, it seemed empty. Until the doors behind the bar swung open, and armed men spilled out like vipers from a nest. It exploded into violence. Camilla moved instinctively, ducking low as a bullet shattered the bottle above her head. She rolled behind a table, fired twice, and saw one man drop with a grunt.

except with bleached hair, heavy eyeliner, and the energy of someone who could start a bar fight for fun and still make it look glamorous. She was already in the middle of telling a story, her hands waving animatedly as she recounted her adventures abroad. “…and that’s when the camel refused to move, so I kicked it... not hard, just enough to let it know who’s in charge, and the man beside me shouted something in Arabic that I think meant ‘crazy woman!’” Camila laughed, slapping her palm on the table, startling both Emily and Lucas. Cassie burst into laughter before she could stop herself. “Oh my God, you kicked a camel?”