Page 1 of War's Witch
Chapter
One
CLEO
Music blasts through the speaker that is sitting on the bedside table, mixed with chatter and laughter from my girls.
My sisters from other misters.
We are in my cousin Steffy’s hotel room, which she is sharing with her sister, Elodie. It is Halloween and we have been invited to a party at the Three Kings MC clubhouse. Steffy knows one of the Ol’ Ladies there —she belongs to the VP, I think— I am not sure, but hey, a party is a party.
I am no stranger to MCs being around them most of my life; hell, I work for one back in Phoenix: the Rugged Skulls MC.
“Girls, I am going to get laid tonight by a sexy, burly biker with a long beard that feels amazing between my legs,” Tiffany says in a sing-song voice.
We all laugh at her as she dances around the room, drink in hand, living her best life. And why not? You only live once. The energy in the air is infectious, our excitement fizzing like the cheap prosecco we’re sipping.
Steffy grabs a pair of wings, then fits them to her shoulders with dramatic flair before spinning to the music, her laughter echoing off the walls. She is dressed like a fairy, which suits her and her petite frame and blonde hair.
Elodie starts a mock catwalk between the beds, showing off one of their hastily assembled costumes— she’s wearing a tight black dress, with ruby red lips and plastic fangs finishing her outfit off.
Tiffany, my roommate for the weekend, struts around the room in her sexy pirate costume. They all went for something with easy access as they all plan on getting laid this weekend by a biker, and hell, I am all for that.
My sex life has been like the desert that fills Phoenix for the past year. It’s sad and pathetic that I do not find fucking random men exciting anymore. I would use the excuse of it being my age, but I am only twenty-four.
I finish my badass sexy witch makeup and lean back, taking stock of how fucking hot I look.
My blonde hair is loose and wavy, hanging down my back, the tips dyed black for this weekend, forgoing my usual pink. We made sure to do my makeup a little darker to add to the character, plus the black lipstick that is to die for.
The dress falls to the floor, with a slit that reaches my hip, and my waist is cinched with a black belt that is adorned with a bat buckle. Spider web tights cover my legs, and my feet are slipped into my black pointed stilettos.
With my witch’s hat on my head, I watch as the girls laugh, drink, and dance.
For a moment, the world outside fades away, and we let ourselves be young and reckless, swept up in the promise of the night ahead. The anticipation is electric, every beat from the speaker pulsing with the thrill of what’s to come.
We all work our asses off back in Phoenix; I tattoo atRugged Ink, and I fucking love it. I pick my own clients unless I am on walk-in duty, which so far has not been all that bad.
The guys I work with are epic— they treat me well and we are like one big family. Add to that the club members, who I love also, and we are a bag of mixed characters.
For years I was told that I was not good enough, and it fucking hit hard hearing that every time I tried to get a job. Then I stumbled on Rugged Ink, and went inside. Rock music was playing and the waiting area was full.
Lucus and Victor were super busy, and after they looked at my portfolio, they told me to get my ass in gear, and that I could start right away. Within an hour I was tattooing and I never left; that was over five years ago.
“Ladies, the cab is here,” Steffy says, with her phone in hand, typing away.
A surge of excitement slithers through my body; I get the sudden feeling that tonight something big will happen, and the spirits will help guide me toward my destiny.
I am a true believer in the spirits, ghosts, and all supernatural/paranormal things. It has always intrigued me.
We file out of the hotel room, and I look at the mess we have left behind, thinking I am freaking grateful that it is not my room. I have known these girls for years, and they have always been at my side, there to pick me up after my ex, Pato, did a number on me.
Not only did he repeatedly cheat on me, but he would belittle me daily and smack me around from time to time. His men would stand around and watch, telling me that I was nothing without him. They would take great joy in talking about some whore he fucked the night before, because I was never enough for a powerful man like their boss.
It took me nearly a year to get away from him, but the damage to my mind and soul was already done.
My girls collected me, scraping me off the ground and putting me back together.
This was when I was nineteen; now I am twenty-four and a strong bitch.
