Biker Or Not Novels & Stories

Why won't they? He is a moderately built and heavily inked lad with strikingly cool features, like a deity. He had chiseled jawline, flawless white skin, deep blue eyes and a nice crew cut, which suited his face perfectly. He was the epitome of perfection itself and one of the famous sexiest bikers in college. Carl was his rival because they both have the same talent, good looks and a few similar qualities. “I know it's Jade…” Carl growled amidst clenched teeth when he saw the faces of one of the bullies.. “That two-timing asshole! She almost got me laid a few weeks ago.”

And there it was, My bike. Silver. Smooth. Beautiful. Like moonlight trapped in steel. For a second, I forgot the pain. My heart beat fast, excitement, joy, pride. “Wow,” I whispered. “It’s… beautiful. Thank you so much. I love it.” He smiled. “It’s even better in person. It’s one of only two released in this city.” He asked if I needed a teacher, but I chuckled. “No. I can drive.” Of course I can. I rode a bike back home. A smaller one, but silver too.

"You're hurt." Blood trickles from a cut on my forehead, and my ribs scream with every breath. But compared to a partial shift, this is nothing. "Who are you?" I whisper. "Ryder Kane." His voice is so deep. "And you're under my protection now." Behind him, other bikers are checking the unconscious enforcers. These aren't regular humans—I can smell the wolf in all of them. "Alpha Dominic won't let this go," I manage. "He will send everyone he has."

Then I looked up. “So how did you get the title, really? What happened to the last guy?” “He stepped down.” “Just like that?” “Something like that.” “Biker presidents don’t just retire.” Jarek met my gaze. “No. They don’t.” I let the silence stretch. He didn’t fill it. “Me being here, what does that make me?” I asked finally, voice quieter. His gaze flicked to my bruised cheek, lingered a breath too long, then dropped to my lips.

he said softly. Before I could respond, the front door of the bar swung open. A group of men walked in, and the atmosphere in the room changed instantly. They weren't wearing Vipers colors, but they were bikers—large, rough, and looking for trouble. One of them, a man with a shaved head and a tattoo of a coiled snake on his neck, scanned the room until his eyes landed on our booth. "Well, well," the man said, walking toward us with a swagger that made my skin crawl. "If it isn't Ruan Montague. I thought you only hung out in the city, Prez. What brings you to this neck of the woods?"

"And teacher? Come alone." "Mr biker, my name is Amelia." The words came out before she could stop them. Deacon looked at her face for a moment. She thought she saw the corner of his mouth move into a small smile. "I know what your name is, Amelia." The way he said it, low and careful, made her name sound dangerous. "The question is, do you know what you’re getting yourself into?" Before she could answer, he walked away. He left her standing in the courtyard. Her heart was beating fast. Her mind was racing.

I'm not too up on the latest biker bullshit though I'd heard stories before I came here and had done some research on my own to get some idea of what I was walking into. There's some shit that these people do that I can never wrap my head around, but one thing I know, if a seller has a buyer lined up, then there were talks of a deal.

"I'm doing this. With or without legal approval." Sarah closed her eyes briefly. "Fine. But I'm going to be there. With paramedics on standby. And if this goes sideways, I'm pulling you out myself." "Deal." As we walked out of the police station, I kept my arm around Lisa. People stared—we'd become infamous. The biker enforcer and his society bride. The alliance nobody wanted. "Jackson," Lisa said quietly. "That photo of your truck. You weren't anywhere near the Iron Wolves clubhouse that night."

"He has a long blond hair, and he's a bit lean." The biker shook his head. "Miss Voss, I'm new here and I haven't known everyone by their names yet, besides the executives." "Ohh, okay...." I walked up to another biker and ask him about Stakes. "He's not around, Miss Voss. He went for a ride with Horse and Picnic." I was relieved hearing him say that...at least I have some hope. "Please, can you tell him to meet me in my studio when he gets back?"

"You killed our father, Duke. Self-defense or not, you ended his life and buried him like a dog. Maybe it's time you paid for that." "Self-defense is legal." "Prove it." Connor's smile turned cruel. "You were seventeen. Alone with a dead man. No witnesses except me, and I say it was murder. You think a jury will believe you over me? The educated, successful brother versus the violent biker with a criminal record?" Duke's hands clenched. "Why are you doing this?"