Along The Ride Book Novels & Stories

“Gonna be a long ride.” The night was alive with the rumble of engines as we rolled out of the clubhouse parking lot, the dim glow of the streetlights flickering over our convoy like a strobe. The Warriors rode in tight formation, our bikes a unified force slicing through the quiet streets. Behind us, Viktor’s SUVs followed like silent predators.

My head snapped up as from behind me, I heard Torin’s voice murmur, “Let’s go for a ride.” Turning my head so I could view him, I peered at him where he stood a few feet away like he hadn’t detonated me the night before. “Now?” I asked, pushing the book aside. “Now,” he returned. He gave no apology, but I stood anyway, because for all my talk, I always stood when he asked. Fifteen minutes later I was on the back of his bike. The engine vibrated between my thighs, and the wind slid over my arms, tugging at my shirt, and lifting my hair. The road stretched out in front of us mostly empty, open.

After spending several days in Algedi, Lars decided to continue his journey to northeastern La Shania Mirepa, the Hamal region. He didn't get to visit here last time due to a certain unfinished business, so Lars was really looking forward to it. Lars rode off his sport bike on the interstate road, feeling the wind harshly hit his body as he picked up the speed. He passed over cars and trucks with relative ease, as if the motorcycle itself was a natural extension to Lars' own body.

Chapter 1- Alsie Introduction- If you want to get better acquainted with the characters in this story I suggest you read Detective Alsie and the Triplet Alphas...the beginning I sat on the floor playing with my sons, surrounded by my mates, enjoying this small moment of peace. Knowing full well that everything in our lives, was about to change….again. Not that, that was anything new to us. If there is something we all knew about, it was adapting and pivoting quickly. However, the change coming our way was about to be one of epic proportions and one that was going to rock the werewolf and Lycan world to its foundation.

“Hold that thought.” I nodded and pulled on my helmet. He did the same, climbing on the bike and waiting for me to join him. The ride into Portland was gorgeous. The sun wouldn’t set for another hour, and it shone off the Columbia as we headed over the bridge. We pulled into the parking lot of Big Ernie’s Body Shop (the front this time) and Alex maneuvered the bike into the end space next to other just as gorgeous Harleys. He lowered the kickstand and waited for me to climb off the bike before doing the same.

Alice said off-handedly. “That’s not an option,” Arthur growled. “I know,” Alice quickly said. “I was just stating what they would do.” “Okay. That’s what they would do,” Arthur said. “Now, what do we do? This girl can’t ride a horse and I’ve never made a travois. I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

“Let’s take a little ride.” ##########

The landscape had shifted from the pine and river of Draeven's northern border to the low rolling hills of the central continent, gold with late-summer grass and the distant grey of the Council city's walls on the horizon. Kael and Kade were riding ahead of us. Side by side. They had not spoken for the first four hours of the ride, and then they had spoken for the next twelve, and the speaking had been the quiet steady kind that happened between two men who had spent twenty-one years apart and were learning each other's horses and each other's silences and each other's way of watching the treeline without turning their heads. "Straight back. Chin up. Like the road owed him something."

All I wanted was to pull her close, right then and there. Once everyone had arrived, Gavin gave the signal, and we started riding up the mountain road. I stayed near the back of the group. In front of me, the bikes moved in rhythm, and so did the bodies riding them. The motion was impossible to ignore. Before long, I could feel my body reacting. Two hours later, we finally reached the top. Gavin was already out of patience. Before the tents were even set up, he had pulled a woman into his arms, sitting on his bike as they kissed.

ELEVEN I don’t remember much about the ride home. Bobby and I barely spoke as he drove wordlessly, staring down the road, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on his copy of The King Wears Yellow. And me? To be honest, I can’t exactly remember, to this day. I think . . . I believe . . . I must’ve spent the ride flipping through my copy of the book. Even that is still a mystery to me. How I could’ve been walking aimlessly through the bookstore one moment, scorning Reverend McIlvian and his healing powers, and the next unconsciously buying his book, of all things.