Booktok Bikers Novels & Stories

"I don't get nervous easily. Takes more than some bikers drinking beer to rattle me." "Is that right?" He leaned forward slightly and I caught his scent. Leather and smoke and something else underneath that I couldn't identify. Something that made my pulse quicken despite knowing how dangerous this man was. "That's right. I've worked rougher bars than this." "I doubt that." His voice was quiet but there was steel underneath the words. "The Iron Horse in Portland is a biker bar but it's nothing compared to what happens here. The men who drink in this establishment have done things that would give your Portland bikers nightmares."

“The rest are outside. We can head over to Ray’s while we wait for any information you might have.” Torch nods at me, and we file out, locking the doors. Sure enough, a total of ten bikers are on their motorcycles, dressed in nothing but leather. Leather vests, leather pants, leather fingerless gloves. “Hello everyone!” I lift a hand up in a small wave. “Thank you fur coming. We’re heading over to Ray’s, so just follow closely behind the car.” Then, I turn to Torch. “You’re riding with me.” He nods and gets in. And soon, we’re speeding towards Ray’s.

Shit kickers that had seen way better days and never smiling. They were the kind of bikers that put fear in every man, woman, and child when they rode through a town one hundred strong. They kinda remind me of the gunslingers of the old West. Only these days, old man Mallory was a lot more refined. He wore silk suits and loafers and shit.

I said to them, pleased that my voice didn’t tremble. “It’s pretty dangerous walking around alone late at night,” the same biker said. He was getting off his bike, as was everyone else. “I don’t want any trouble…” I said, my voice coming out as only a whisper. “Well, what a coincidence. We don’t want any trouble either,” another one of the bikers said, stepping closer to me. “We just want to talk. There’s no crime in talking, is there?” “It’s very late,” I said to them, trying to step away, but I stepped into another biker that stood behind me.

If anybody could tell me what should I do to stop myself from loving her, from stop adoring her? Suddenly, I heard the thud sound. I looked around and I found that two of the bikers in front me were laying on the road and their bikes flew few feet’s forward from them. And I found myself right on the finishing line. I pooled brakes immediately and went to see them. They were not badly injured, Just some rashes here and there. I guess it’s normal for a biker to have this much. They stood up quickly and went towards their bike. “You killed it dude. It was thrilling race. I was so excited to see you. What did you eat in the morning?”

I gave him the same rundown I’d given Bryce. When I finished, he leaned back against the bar and crossed his arms thoughtfully. “So the plan is basically… ride motorcycles, collect toys, eat barbecue, and listen to music?” “That’s the general idea.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “You realize you’re asking a bunch of bikers to do exactly what they already like doing.” “That’s the point.” He laughed. “Yeah, I’m in.” Two. The rest of the conversations came easier after that. Some members barely needed the explanation.

Ryker cleared his throat before answering, "To hang out at the bar as usual." "And drink and get drunk?" Rosalia shook her head. "No wonder," she said more quietly. Ryker who heard that was drawn closer to her. "What does that head shake mean?" Rosalia girded her loins even though she was scared to death of Ryker and those men. "That's what I thought about the biker gang and you confirmed it." Ryker quickly picked up the screwdriver Rosalia was holding. "We're not an ordinary biker gang. We're not what you think we are." Then he threw the screwdriver at the wall and it stuck there. "We're more dangerous than you think."

I just felt a little protected somehow. “Come on. I’ll take you home,” Booker said. “No, it’s okay. If you can just call me a cab, it’ll be fine.” Booker shook his head. “We’re closed, darlin’, and it’ll take a while for a taxi, so let me just take you home.” I swallowed. “What?” he asked. I glanced at Mack and then back at Booker. “Um… aren’t bikes really dangerous?” Booker seemed to share another secret look with Mack before they both burst out laughing.

The rider slammed on the brakes, the bike sliding sideways and coming to a stop just inches from my legs. He ripped his helmet off. He had dark hair, a jagged scar near his eyebrow, and a look of pure annoyance. His leather vest had a patch: IRON GRAVE MC. "You trying to die, Princess?" he barked. "Or did you just get lost on the way to the castle?" I was shaking so hard I could barely speak. In the distance, I saw the black SUVs. Edmund’s men. "Please," I choked out, grabbing his arm. "I need to get out of here. They’re going to catch me."

He howls in agony. I bite down harder. I taste his blood. It is so sweet. It is so delicious. I close my eyes. I feel his blood run down my jaws and onto my chest. I am so hungry for it. I want to drink every last taste. To consume him completely. The other bikers are shouting. I can hear the revving of their motorcycles. I hear the roar of their bikes as they jump back on them and speed away. I let go off the man's leg.