4 Rider Novels & Stories

At the front rode figures that made my wolf crawl deeper into hiding. Black Howl MC patches gleamed on their leather vests, the snarling wolf head logo twisted into something darker than what I remembered. This wasn't the Ironfang pack I'd fled from. This was something new, lolthat had evolved in my absence. "Jesus Christ," Tommy breathed from beside the bar. "How many of them are there?" At least forty bikes, I counted, with riders that sat their machines like they owned the world. But it was the figure at the very front that made my heart stop.

Kade asked suddenly, not looking up from his drawing. "I've been racing since I was sixteen," Ryker said, and his voice came out rougher than he intended. "Do you?" "I love it," Kade said, finally looking up with eyes that were identical to Ryker's wolf. "Mom won't let me ride yet but I know all the riders' names and their times and everything." Something twisted in Ryker's chest because this was his son, talking about motorcycles with the same passion Ryker had at that age. "Your mom's smart to keep you safe," he said. "Bikes are dangerous."

"Felicia, I like the idea of you riding a Can-Am Spyder because it's safer than the standard bike. Nothing against your driving. You ride really well. But if you're new to bikes, I just think you'll be more comfortable with three wheels. I wouldn't worry as much if you were on a Spyder." "Thanks; like I said, I'll think about it. I need to make up my own mind," she states firmly giving me a warning look. "Of course. Carson wants to meet up at Wild Riders again this weekend. You down for that?" "Yes, but only if you teach me more about how to play pool," she winks at me. "Deal." The server brings out our meal. "You know the Wild Riders go on longer rides. They have a few campgrounds in the Ca

I stroked his snout, trying to steady my racing heart. “Just remember the choreography, old friend,” I murmured. “No improvising today, alright? We need to be perfect.” “I find your lack of faith… predictable,” Vermithor’s voice rumbled deep inside my mind, a warm, amused sound. “We are always perfect, little rider.” A booming voice over the loudspeakers announced the start of the Dragon Rider Exhibition, listing the names of the four pairs participating: Freya and Ignis, Ryan and Pyre, Dylan and Glaze, and…

Crow cut in as he stared at his screen, tapping it so Breed would take a look. Breed bent over to do just that. “There are only six riders?” he asked in disbelief. “Yeah, not much of a fighting force,” Crow added. Breed was puzzled. “So if not to fight then what—” Crow grabbed his arm. “See this?” Breed squinted at the figures on the camera feed. The lead bike was waving a white flag. “What the fuck!” Greer exclaimed. Just then, Viktor came back into the clubhouse through the double doors with 5 men behind him. “It appears you are being asked for two parleys today.” He came over to the table. “Can you tell us what this is about, so we know how to proceed?”

The riders were coming, and she had no idea who they were or what they wanted, but she could feel the tension in the air—thick with danger. The riders appeared over the ridge, their forms silhouetted against the rising moon. There were four of them, each on horseback, their cloaks billowing in the wind. Their faces were obscured by masks, but there was something in the way they moved, something familiar about them. "The Lunar Sentinels," Caelum muttered under his breath, his voice tight with anger.

It’s dangerous. It’s risky. That’s the point. When I’m done, I refuel, lube the chain, and talk lines with Sean. He rides clean. Controlled. Practical. We balance each other. “Eat,” Mark says, tossing us beef cut rolls. “And drink your Monsters.” We eat, while he talks strategy, and swallow nerves. “Come, the meeting is about to start.” He hurries us along to the rider’s meeting, where the referee gives out more information and rules, and also talks about problems that occurred during the preruns.

[ASSIGNMENT CONFIRMED] [CRESTON INVITATIONAL] [RANK RANGE: 9 TO 16] [REGISTERED DRIVERS: 48] [RACE DATE: 5 DAYS] Alina read the rank range twice. Nine to sixteen. She was at thirteen. The bottom half of that range. Which meant the top of the field for this race would be rank nine drivers, people who were one step from the top ten and knew it and were running their races with the specific focus of people who could see the door and were deciding how hard to push it.

“The rest are outside. We can head over to Ray’s while we wait for any information you might have.” Torch nods at me, and we file out, locking the doors. Sure enough, a total of ten bikers are on their motorcycles, dressed in nothing but leather. Leather vests, leather pants, leather fingerless gloves. “Hello everyone!” I lift a hand up in a small wave. “Thank you fur coming. We’re heading over to Ray’s, so just follow closely behind the car.” Then, I turn to Torch. “You’re riding with me.” He nods and gets in. And soon, we’re speeding towards Ray’s.

Harlow I was greeted by six cuts bearing emblems of a flaming sword surrounded by seven rings as I sped toward the Seventh Circle bikers from behind. They'd been following our caravan for several minutes and were quickly gaining on our four bikes. From my vantage point, I could see that these guys were packing, and pretty soon, they would be in firing-range of Cyrus and the others.