Booktok Bikers Novels & Stories

“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.

“Is this the welcome committee?” “This is the peanut gallery,” Ryder muttered. “Ignore them.” I realised he had employed more guys from the Hellfire MC. That was good. At least, they'd get a salary every month. Ryder led me past the garage toward the showroom, where the polished bikes stood like art pieces. I caught sight of TB... the Tessa Bishop bike... from last week, front and center behind the glass partition. “She’s a showstopper,” I whispered. “She’s not the only one,” Ryder said, nudging me gently.

“Leave them behind?” “I don’t want to,” I said. “But I also don’t know if I can be what they need long-term. A biker’s girlfriend? Three bikers’ girlfriend? Living in a compound, always looking over my shoulder, accepting violence as part of daily life? That’s not who I was raised to be.”

Another side to him. Then, Elias gasped as her eyes fell on another book. It was sitting on the drawer next to the closet door, and the familiar humiliating title of the book ' My Biker Boy Fantasies ' made her bite her lips. The pages were folded, indicating that he had been reading it recently. "Oh God," Elias murmured as she approached the book, "How long is he gonna keep reading this?!" Just then, Kaelen stepped out of the closet wearing nothing but pants. Elias panicked for a second, startled by the sound and she spun a little too fast.

Huh, were we going on bikes? They're row after row of gleaming metal, the engines rumbling low. The scent of fuel and leather mixed in the air, intoxicating and deadly. My pulse quickened. Of course. I had forgotten, this family, these Alphas… they weren’t just wolves. They were bikers. Dangerous, untouchable, feared. One by one, everyone climbed onto their bikes, their movements easy with practiced confidence. Everyone but me. I stood awkwardly at the edge, my arms crossed tightly as I tried to mask the rising panic in my chest.

crashing into a table with a splintering thud. Chairs scraped. Boots shifted. Silas didn’t look surprised; he looked entertained. “Sensitive topic?” Silas asked mildly, tilting his head. like he was watching a street performance. I flexed my hand once. “Careful.” He smirked, eyes glinting. “Relax. I’m just curious how women and children fit into the biker life.” The word echoed louder than the music. So that’s how far it spread. “Watch your mouth,” I warned.

But I was stunned when I heard loud growls, and the next I saw was the bikers flying off their bikes as they landed hard on the floor. Then I saw the terrifying biker who had yanked my backpack off my shoulders, zooming off as he left my bag lying on the pavement with my textbooks, pen, and girly stuff all over the floor. Moving my gaze to the one responsible for all these, I saw Cameron holding a bat stick tightly within his grip, his eyes burning as he stared hard at the two bikers who were coiled up into a ball as they clutched onto their aching tummy while groaning in pain...

"The motorcycle club, where the bikers hang out." At her words I jump forward, sitting on the edge of my seat. "Katy," I whisper as if somebody else could hear us. "You can't break in and look around a motorcycle club." They were bikers, for god's sake. With leather chaps and shit. I don't care what Anessa says about them being her best customers. There are limits. Snooping in on a mobster with good pasta okay, I'll consider it, but this is too far. Everyone knows bikers don't know how to cook. "This is why I didn't want to tell you."

Frank drove straight at the mass of men on power bikes. The biker gang was still advancing as they saw us turn. I had no idea what the plan was but I knew that I was leaving the outskirts alive. "Step on it," I told Frank, who increased the speed in response. The bikers had stopped when they saw Frank speeding toward them with his black armored truck. Frank slowed down the car just in time as we were both some twenty feet away from the whole of the Toll bikers. Nothing happened for a while as I sat and watched the whole lot of them on their motorcycle.

“You’re walking into the Annual Meeting with wolves who smell blood. If you’re going to survive biker politics, you need more than sharp instincts.” “I can ride,” she said quickly. “You’ve seen me.” “I’ve seen you ride,” I corrected. “I haven’t seen you command.” Her brows furrowed. “Hmmm, there’s a difference?” “Obviously,” I replied sounding almost sarcastic. “In this vast world of ours, motorcycles aren’t transportation. They’re statements. The way you ride tells everyone exactly who you are, either; weak, reckless, or untouchable.” She crossed her arms. “And you think I look weak?”