Angel Biker Novels & Stories

I don't see anyone, I see a job. I park the bike on the side of the street and take off my helmet. On the other side, there is a small artisan café, run by Maria, mother of two small children. The store was renovated last year after vandals set it on fire. And why do I know all this? Because that's where Angelic buys his favorite coffee; coffee with almond milk, whipped cream and essence of mint. I lower the support foot of the motorcycle and I wait. After a few minutes, Angelic's personal security, Marcos, comes out of the store with a bag. He is a former MMA fighter who retired after breaking his right leg.

This is normal for the Death Kings. Angel clears her throat. Sidhe and Gator stop kissing to turn their eyes on her. She has such a commanding tone that everyone present is waiting to hear what the high school English teacher and horseback riding instructor have to say. “Alright, you two that’s enough. We aren’t going to start an orgy with the children present,” she admonishes them. Us and Tempest are the ‘children’ she is referring to. They both say, “yes ma’am”. Angel also goes by the name Natalie or her nickname Ali. We call her Angel out of respect for the terrifying assassin she is. The criminal world pays her large amounts of money to quietly end their enemies and she is talented, at l

“It’s a pity that Angie didn’t come back.” He went to Mediania with sincerity in cooperating with Eric, thinking that Angie and Eric could further open up the market in Mediania. It just did not occur to him that this was Eric’s trap, and that silly girl Angie was so clueless even when she was taken advantage of. The driver sighed. “It’ll be fine. As long as you’re still around, Ms. Angie will come back.” Nicole felt that something was wrong the more she heard. As far as she knew, Angie was the daughter of the arms dealer, Caleb.

"All right, I'm ready." Romero did his famous violent pelvic thrust a couple of times. "Let's do this." Angel and Eric laughed. Angel grabbed what was left of the twelve pack of beer in the backseat. "You're a moron," he chuckled. They went down the long driveway and turned the corner. There were a lot more people than they'd expected. They started making their way through the crowd. Angel was just beginning to scope the place when he saw her. He had to do a double take, because he almost didn't recognize her. The second he turned away though, it hit him. His body was suddenly overheating.

Angel is a fairly tall man around six feet with broad shoulders with a lot of lean muscle, a slight tan with shoulder length black hair and dark brown eyes. “Alpha Raven, it’s good to meet you,” Angel bows his head baring his neck making me nod while reaching out to shake his hand. “It is good to meet you, Angel. I hear you’re Alpha Osric’s brother and quite the warrior?” I question with a small smile as he firmly shakes my hand.

“Alpha Jaron. I’m referring him to you. He’s in recovery, unable to walk at the moment. I need you to give him your best as his physical therapist.” I froze mid-breath, the name striking me like a lightning bolt. My pulse quickened involuntarily. “Alpha Jaron?” I whispered, barely loud enough for Marga to hear. Marga’s jaw dropped, and her hand flew to her mouth. “Do you mean the Alpha Jaron? The Biker? The most feared, the handsome Alpha of Steel Fang Pack?” I blinked, the weight of her words settling on me. The Alpha of Steel Fang Pack. The man whose very name commanded fear and respect in the supernatural and human communities alike.

The Bratva contract looming in twenty-four hours. Kane's attacks escalating. The club preparing for war. "Okay," I said. "Two hours." I changed into a dress I'd packed weeks ago. Black. Simple. The kind of thing you wore when you wanted to feel like someone other than a biker's sister. Axel's eyes darkened when he saw me. "You look good." "You don't look so bad yourself," I replied. He'd cleaned up again. Different jacket. Nicer boots. We rode out at sunset.

"When I was fourteen, I started riding with the older guys in the club. Terrified. Shaking. But I acted like I owned the place." "You were a delinquent. That's different." "I was confident. Confidence is confidence." Duke caught her shoulders. "Emma. Look at me." She turned. His daughter. Dark-eyed and stubborn and trying so hard not to show how frightened she was. "You are the toughest kid I know," Duke said. "You've grown up with bikers, handled a blended family, dealt with things most fourteen-year-olds never face. High school is nothing compared to what you've already survived."

My ribs screamed with every breath—courtesy of Derek's boots three nights ago in that motel parking lot outside Tucson. "You cannot run forever, Jenna," he had said, his voice cold as winter. "I will find you again." But I had run. Again. A rumble split the air. Deep. Mechanical. The kind that made your bones vibrate. I lifted my head and saw them. Six motorcycles rolling down Main Street like they owned it. Leather. Chrome. The devil's head patch on their backs—red eyes, fangs bared. Devil's Reign MC. My blood turned to ice.

"And if you try to run, I will find you. And I will break both your legs." I believed him. Jackson was waiting by his bike. He wore dark jeans, a black t-shirt under his leather cut, and sunglasses that hid those cold gray eyes. He looked me over slowly, his expression unreadable. "Get on." "I have never been on a motorcycle before." "Then today you learn." He handed me a helmet. "Put this on." My hands shook as I fastened the helmet. Jackson swung onto the bike and looked back at me expectantly. I climbed on behind him awkwardly, not sure where to put my hands.