Cyber Motorcycle Novels & Stories

He reminds me of the wolves in the pack in Tucson, a motorcycle gang of shifters who run cage fights and nightclubs and own the city streets at night. “This will be hard to manage without shoes, but I’ll do the driving,” I tell Jasmine as I stow the gun in the holster taped to my back and pat the seat. She pulls on the jacket and hikes up her skirt to mount the bike which is way too big for her. I place the helmet on her head and adjust the strap, then mount the bike in front of her. “Hang on, sweetheart,” I say and gun the engine, zooming in between cars. About a half mile ahead, I see the police have blocked the exit and highway,

The motorcycle kept pace with her, and when the driver took off his helmet, she was shocked to see that it was Eric. Crystal frowned and said, “Leave me alone, Eric. I’m not getting on your motorcycle.” Eric: “Are you in a bad mood? Come drag racing with me. It’s the coolest. Come on, give it a shot!” Crystal stopped suddenly. She turned to him and asked, “How fast does your bike go?” “Up to 370,” Eric replied. A sinister smile appeared on his face as he spoke, and he offered her an extra helmet. Crystal took the helmet, put it on, climbed onto the bike, and wrapped her arms around him.

Why? My eyes widened in surprise as I followed her. When we reached the bike, I saw it was a sleek, shiny motorcycle. “Gorgeous bike. What’s its name?” I asked, impressed. “Triumph Speed 400,” Ray replied, sitting down and putting on her black sunglasses with a confident smile. “Helmet?” I asked, feeling a little anxious. Ray looked at me for a few moments before replying, “I don’t have a helmet.” Her deadpan expression didn’t reassure me at all.

Hera fires a warning shot into the ceiling, the crack echoing as the bar erupts into chaos. Chaos erupt as people scramble around diving for cover. I grab Mason’s arm, dragging him toward the door. “Move!” I shout. We burst into the parking lot, the evening air hitting us like a slap. Hera’s right behind, covering our backs as we sprint for the bikes. The two guys are on our heels but we are fast. I climb on my motorcycle and Mason does the same. The engines come alive as we speed away, Hera's car trailing behind us.

Now, having to disguise himself didn’t matter much to him; in fact, it felt like freedom from that heavy pressure instead. There was an auctioning at the EpicTech headquarters. The company, well known in the country for its big mighty name, specialized in motorcycles but had also made many cars. They were also the founders of a racing team. The organization was formed by wealthy people who invested together to build its mighty reputation.

All I could hear was Kael's cold dismissal. Rage bloomed hot and bright in my chest, burning away the grief. Burning away everything except one crystal clear thought. If he wanted to discard me like trash, fine. But I wasn't going to make it easy for him. I straightened, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. My eyes landed on the private garage attached to the clubhouse. The one where Kael kept his most prized possessions. The one with his custom motorcycle. The bike was legendary in pack circles. Black as midnight, built to his exact specifications, rumored to be bonded to his wolf somehow. He loved that bike more than anything.

~ Knox ~ The roar of my motorcycle vibrates through to my bones, immediately relaxing my body and mind. Whipping in-between traffic as I let my bike go full throttle, this is where I feel myself…this is my sanctuary. Somewhere I don’t need to think, just do.

It makes for a very entertaining dynamic I can tell you that. I forgot about mom and her unexplained 'visit' a few hours later as I went for one of my midnight rides. There's nothing like the feel of a powerful bike between one's thighs as you race through the night. And for that reason I think the motorcycle is one of the bleeders' best inventions. It's almost as freeing as flying high above the trees and feeling the wind against one's skin. And it scares humans less that's for sure. They're a timid bunch these bleeders, afraid of everything including their own shadow.

“Kamari, I need to show you something outside.” I followed him out into the driveway, my hand instinctively going to one of my daggers. Old habits. Sitting in the driveway was the most beautiful motorcycle I’d ever seen. Black with purple accents that seemed to glow in the morning light. It was sleek, powerful, and aggressive at the same time. My chest tightened as I stared at it. “You got me a bike?” I couldn’t keep the surprise out of my voice. “It’s for the mission.” His tone was flat and emotionless. “You’ll need your own transport. The rest of us will be in the van.”

I walk down the narrow hallway toward the back of the ground floor. Caleb’s workshop door is unlocked. I push it open slowly, the old wood groaning on its rollers. The space is dark except for the afternoon light filtering through the high, dirt-streaked windows. In the center of the room, his motorcycle sits on its rear paddock stand, its metal frame stripped down, the cylinder fins exposed and waiting for the tools that are still scattered neatly across the top of his wooden workbench. A half-empty can of chain lubricant sits next to a clean rag, exactly where he left it.