Novel & Cerita Biker Or Not

My gaze scanned his bike, and I saw that it had a realistic drawing of a silver-furred wolf with sharp golden eyes designed on the bike, along with a long line of smoky red flames drawn across the body of the bike. The biker was clad in a black leather jacket and putting on a sleek black helmet that looked different from the others. He gave off a different aura. A leader's aura I found myself being drawn to as I felt tingles between my legs. "Oh, my fucking goodness! Aleric Dolce came to college today?!" The girls squealed louder in whispers, blushing and barely controlling their excitement as they rushed forward to have a better view of the bikers.

There was a reason for us not letting just anyone on the back of our bikes. Like our homes, that shit was sacred; yeah, we're fucked up like that. There had been a great many who'd wanted the privilege but had been shot down. A fuck was a fuck, but the keeper was a whole different story. A man's bike was for his keeper. "Only a man's true mate should ever be on the back of his bike. I think our rapping brothers call it a ride or die bitch." "Um, I'm not hip; what exactly does that mean?"

Someone who would love me as I was and save me from my sufferings. Days passed since that incident and my wounds healed faster than normal. I ignored it, however, making sure I didn't cross paths with Melissa again, no matter what. I never set my eyes on Brian since that day either, and I knew it was because he was busy with the race that occurred between our pack and the nearest wolf pack, Moonmist pack. I always wanted to know what it would be like to be a female biker but I knew it was impossible. Only alphas were allowed to be bikers. A mere wolfless omega like me would be killed before I even made it there.

I responded, and Colt slammed his helmet shut again, reversing immediately without signaling to his colleagues. I smiled into his jacket, even among a group of rebels, he was still a rebel. He did not wait for whoever was in charge here to suggest a place to wait out the storm. As he drove in the opposite direction, I stared at the bikers we flew past from behind my visor, their bandannas, neck scarfs and arm bands signifying what club they belonged to. This Hungarian club was different from anyone I had ever seen, ranging from boys and girls who were at most sixteen, to hardened men who were well over sixty.

"He here?" "Nope, but the bouncer said he might be down the road." Like him, Deacon rode a bike, but he wore no cut and no patch. He was Nomad all the way, not wanting to have to answer to anyone but getting protection from everybody. It worked well for him. "Shit." Deacon tossed the cigarette he'd been smoking on the ground, grinding it with the heel of his boot. "What the fuck are we gonna do if we don't find him?"

Like it was built to keep people out. As we walk, I notice the others. Men scattered along the grounds, some near motorcycles parked in neat rows. The sound of an engine roars in the distance, and I turn to see a group of riders speed past the gates. Black leather jackets, helmets, the glint of chrome. My chest tightens. A biker gang. I don’t need anyone to explain it to me. The signs are all here. The mansion. The heavy security. The bikes. This client is definitely not a regular person.

“Out? You’ve been pushing me out since the day I could walk.” Raiden slammed his mug down. “You’ll work the Iron Fang shop with my men. Full-time. No excuses. Bikes come in, you fix them. Orders come in, you fill them. That business feeds this pack, Damon. You’re part of this pack whether you like it or not.” Damon’s storm-gray eyes flashed. “And if I don’t?”

The ones who would engage would likely be the ones who disregard their morals and rules—probably the irresponsible ones. And if someone like Williams decided to go with me in his suit, along with all his expensive watches and shoes, he’d grab all the attention, and my going there would be ruined entirely. Every biker would want to talk with him to see why someone as rich as he is came to that biker's neighborhood. I can't take the risk. Most bikers are honest, but this one is far from it. They really don't give a damn and might just strip Williams to steal from him.

"It is everywhere. Simultaneous raids across seventeen states. Every major independent club. All being arrested for weapons trafficking, narcotics distribution, money laundering." Subject Seven moved to the window. "This is not coincidence. This is coordinated elimination. The boy is using federal law enforcement to dismantle every organization that could provide resistance." "Why bikers specifically?" Rebecca demanded. "Why target clubs?" "Because you are organized. Mobile. Independent of government oversight. You have communication networks that bypass standard surveillance. You have resources and loyalty structures that make you dangerous to centralized control." I pulled up my own phone.

PRESENTLY... My biker Boy Fantasies, that was what everyone was calling it. Everywhere Elias went, people's gaze followed her. She was the hottest topic in school right now, and she's never felt more vulnerable in her life. People made fun of her as she walked by. They called her all sorts of names and a few stood out to her especially 'Pervy Nerd' 'Hardcore Hottie' 'Kaelen's number one fan' 'Miss XXX rated'