Biker Bewitch (Hell on Heelz MC #4)

Chapter 1

Salem

The engine purred beneath me, steady and powerful, as I rolled into the Roost. The rumble of bikes felt like a war drum, shaking the ground, telling the whole world Hell on Heelz MC was here and not to be messed with. Halloween charity ride? Yeah, sure, we were doing it for a cause or whatever, but for me? It was about earning my damn patch. Being a prospect wasn’t a game. It was about proving I could hang with these badass women and stand shoulder to shoulder with the club that took me in. If that meant leaning into my spooky witch shit for a night, so be it.

Parking my black as night Harley, I killed the engine. I yanked off my helmet, letting my wild, wavy hair fall loose. The smell of exhaust, weed, and something sweet—maybe those candy apples Pixie kept bragging about—hit me like a wall. The girls had gone all out with the decorations, making the place look like a scene out of some twisted Halloween nightmare. I took a breath, trying to keep my cool, but inside, my heart was hammering like I was about to jump out of a plane without a parachute.

This wasn’t just any ride. This was my shot.

“Salem!” Pixie’s voice rang out, cutting through the noise. She strutted over, her pink hair bouncing like a damn cartoon character, grinning like she had the whole world at her fingers. She gave me a once-over, her eyes dancing with trouble. “You ready to get your witchy ass spooked?”

I shrugged, playing it cool. “Ain’t scared of shit, Pix. You know that.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll see,” she laughed, smacking me on the shoulder before heading off to finish hanging the last of the decorations.

The club was hosting this charity event with the Seville Slayers, and everyone was on edge. Yeah, there was a truce, but no one trusted those assholes as far as we could throw them. The Slayers? They were trouble. Cocky, dangerous trouble. But Rage, our Prez, said we were playing nice—for now. So, we’d raise the cash, throw a hell of a party, and get out before anything went sideways. That was the plan anyway.

I spotted Rage talking with Brat—one of the OGs who’d earned her patch long before I even knew what the hell I was doing with my life. Their heads were close, serious, dark curly hair mingling with bright red. Rage’s expression was as serious as always. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but from the looks of it, something was up.

Probably planning the ride route or making sure none of the Slayers decided to pull some shit. I couldn’t hear them, but I could feel it in the air. Something wasn’t right. Past Brat’s new man, they didn’t trust the Slayers any more than I did.

I glanced around at the growing crowd—bikers, locals, and even some weekend warriors who probably didn’t know the difference between a Harley and a Honda. My eyes flicked to the Slayers rolling in, led by Riptide, their president. All dark leather, tattoos, and too much swagger for their own good. They parked on the far side of the lot, keeping their distance from us, which was fine by me. Less trouble that way.

Then, I saw him.

Heresy.

Standing tall among the Slayers, his arms crossed and his jaw set like he was ready for war, he was a brooding bastard, and his reputation for being ruthless preceded him. Scary as shit, he reminded me of a Marilyn Manson, an all goth, unapologetic badass, and that got my dark heart racing. Well, maybe if Manson had a sexy brother. I didn’t know much about Heresy. No one did, other than he was Riptide’s go-to biker when hard shit needed handling. His dark eyes scanned the lot, and for a second, they landed on me.

My heart skipped a beat.

What the hell?

I didn’t have a fucking heart.

I tore my gaze away, trying to shake the weird feeling crawling up my spine. I wasn’t here to flirt with danger. I had a job to do. Keep my head down, do what Rage told me, and prove I was worthy of the patch. No distractions, especially not ones like Heresy.

“Salem!” Pixie’s voice dragged me back to reality. She waved me over, grinning like a maniac. “Get your ass over here. We need more lights up. Move it, witch!”

“On it,” I muttered, pulling myself together. I was a prospect after all and did most of the grunt work.

I rolled my eyes, muttering under my breath as I joined her to finish up the last of the decorations. I wasn’t scared of some bullshit ghost story about a witch haunting an old farmhouse. Hell, if anyone should be able to handle some old curse, it was me, right?

The farmhouse we were heading to tonight was supposedly haunted. Some local legend about a woman who cursed the land after the town burned her alive for being a witch. Honestly, they thought the whole thing was ridiculous, but the girls loved playing it up. I, on the other hand, knew better. We’d be riding out at sundown, then partying at the farmhouse until who knows when.

But as I helped string up the last set of lights, I caught Heresy staring again. This time, he was watching me like he knew something I didn’t. His dark eyes followed my movements, and it annoyed me that I noticed. I wasn’t the kind of girl to get flustered, especially not by some Slayer.

But damn if his stare didn’t feel like a challenge.

Rage called us to mount up, the sound of her voice snapping me into focus. Showtime. I grabbed my helmet, slipped it on, and tightened the strap. This was it—my chance to prove I wasn’t just some hanger-on, I was Hell on Heelz material. No one, not even a Slayer with a dark stare, was gonna get in my way.

As I started my Harley, the roar of the engines filled the air, a chorus of power and rebellion. We were a pack of wolves, and the road was ours for the night. I fell into formation, right behind Rage, with Pixie beside me. The Slayers hung back, keeping their distance, but I could feel Heresy staring at me, even through all the noise and fumes.

The town melted away behind us as we raced toward that haunted farmhouse, the sun sinking below the horizon, turning the sky into a deep, blood-red canvas. The wind whipped through my hair, and for the first time that night, I felt alive. Really alive. The thrill of the ride, the unknown waiting for us at that creepy-ass farmhouse tonight—it was all I needed. This was my life now. No more hiding, no more running.

But deep down, I knew something was coming. Something big. Maybe it was the curse, maybe it was something else, but I could feel it lurking just out of sight.

And I had a feeling that whatever it was, it had something to do with Heresy.

I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or if it was about to fuck everything up.