Claimed By The Biker King Novels & Stories

He explained. "Really?" Sam asked. "Yeah, I do. Don't you?" He asked. "I've never thought about it. But I figured bikers didn't do kids." Sam replied. "Bikers are like anyone else. Some do and some don't. Our club isn't into the illegal shit so I'm good with kids." Smokey explained. "So, give it some thought." Sam nodded. "Guess who's coming to the clubhouse this weekend?" Smokey asked. "Snake?" Sam asked.

Ari tells her, seeing her shock at the doctor’s formality. Ingrid takes a deep breath and looks at Bär. He is inside his own head, and she can’t reach him right now, Buck- You are King. You have to make that real now. Bär- I was playing King, I’m not a King. Buck- You are a King, you are ready. Bär- Can you tell if Uncle succumbed or was killed? Buck- I’m a supernatural being, sure, but I’m not that good.

The crowd erupted in a frenzy of cheers and screams as the bikers sped across the terrace, their faces etched with determination. A loud cheer erupted from the audience as everyone kept on yelling names of several motorcycle clubs they were supporting. “Wild Hogs!! Wild Hogs!” The voices on the left audience became louder, amplifying their excitement and eagerness to see them win “Sprint lazers!! Sprint Lazers!!” The other side of the audience screamed the name of a particular motorcycle club with a thunderous roar. And then came the name– “Asphalt warrior!!!!” The voices of the People gingered Adrian. He stood on his bike and leaned forward, his eyes narrowing with a calculative gaze as he

“We’ll need the FBI on board. Wire everything. And we keep Hawk on ice until then, he might still be useful.” We walked back to his bike together. Before I climbed on, he held my face in both his palms. “I meant what I said earlier. When this is over, I’m marrying you. No more hiding. No more family bullshit standing in the way.” I smiled. “Good. Because I’m holding you to that, biker.” He kissed me once more, then we rode out into the night. Behind us, Vienna’s house grew smaller in the mirrors. One more ghost laid to rest. Ahead of us waited Robert Chen, a charity gala, and the final fight. We were fucking ready.

“Yes, Mi lady,” “Hey reckless princess,” he said to her with a broad smile. Elara smiled back. “I'm not reckless” I walked towards the bikers, while Henry's voice which teased Elara, and hers which replied savagely echoed in the background which I barely paid attention to. “Coach, any word for us before we step out there for this tournament?” A biker said, resting his hand on the handlebar of his bike while standing elegantly beside it. Everyone of them turned their gazes to me, anticipating what I had to share.

I'd still pick every second we shared, every moment that broke me and put me back together. I'd still pick Leonardo Vitale, the feared and most ruthless Mafia King. Because regardless of how much of myself I lost, I couldn't imagine life without him.

“Fuck, hell no!” The one who was in the accident shouted. “My bike!” The Viking looking biker was hunched on the road, lamenting over his wheels. Goddess, he should be more concerned about the state he is in I thought as I took in the scene. The wolf’s leg was bent in three places and the left side of his arm was almost scraped to the bone.

“Let’s not talk about who likes me and who doesn’t. I don’t want to talk about my life or who likes me. I don’t want anyone to like me—not even a son of a biker.” Her smile widened. “He is a biker. The twins are bikers. And their father is a retired biker. So…” “So that’s exactly the problem.” My voice dropped, tightening in my throat. “I don’t want to get involved with them. With anything or anyone related to bikes.” Her teasing vanished instantly. She read me too well. “Okay, Tessa. You won’t get involved.” “Good,” I said, letting out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “I need to go to my room. I’m tired.”

Asphalt Kings is the most popular bikers society in this city. The bikers aren't only madly good, but also madly handsome. Rumours say it's run by a powerful secret organization to launder money, and that's why they could snatch the road from government. But who cares? The boys just want to race. Here, Saint St. Graves is the top racer. Most girls come here only for him. In bed, he's A+, and on top of the bike, he's A++ Saint rules the road here. Like right now, everyone on the road is screaming his name except the jealous boys in the society.

"There are at least fifty plus biker gangs in your pack territory, Delta Pack. And amongst these fifty, at least forty-eight of them run their businesses very calm and friendly. They don't want trouble with the law. And the others, if there is any rival or violence, it is strictly within themselves. Bikers are not known for causing major trouble. Especially not troubles that will include the royal family." "That was what I thought too," I spat out, "until they rode into my property and stole the girls right out of my hands." Rocco raised an eyebrow. "How sure are you that it was the bikers?" "I am sure," I said, my teeth clenched. "I saw the tracks. I saw the bikes. I know." Rocco let out a