Dark Rider Novels & Stories

He asked. “Sure. I don’t mind it.” She replied. The guy sat with her and started a conversation with her. She learned that his name was Damon. He was part of a biker gang called Lobo's. He had a low-rider cruiser made by Harley Davidson. When he learned that she rode an H2R Ninja, he was in awe. It’s rare when you find a girl, gorgeous and sweet, loving fast bikes. She enjoyed that evening having an innocent, but simple conversation with Damon. He didn’t know it, but he helped her forget about her problems for a moment. It was one of the best nights she endured since the second she left home.

Something reckless, so she slipped her hand into Adrian’s. Damian’s low laugh echoed from behind them, while Leonard’s face went white, then red. Zariah didn’t wait to see what he’d do next. Adrian pulled her through the ballroom and outside, where his motorcycle sat. It was a powerbike. Zariah hesitated for half a second, then Adrian tossed her a helmet. “Scared?” His smirk was cocky. She lifted her chin. “Not of this.” “Good girl.” He swung onto the bike with easy grace.

The darkness closed in around him, its power overwhelming and absolute. When the ritual was finished, Ryder was changed. He was no longer the same man, but a shadow of his former self, bound to the will of the silver-haired woman. His eyes now mirrored the eerie glow of hers, a testament to the dark force that had claimed him. The weight of his new destiny pressed heavily upon him, as he stood in the ruins of the ancient church, forever linked to the legacy of darkness.

"I know how to treat a woman." He must of been a serial killer. Definitely fits the description of one. "Who are you?" I ask and take a step toward the man. A sloppy grin takes over his face. "Dexton Rivers. You?" Holding my posture strong, I say, "Skylar." He frowns. "Just Skylar? No last name?" his eyes rake over my body, making me very uncomfortable. I can already tell he's thinking of things no sane person should think of.

"No? Ha! This kid doesn't get it, does he? "Boys! Show him what we've got!" The bikers raised their weapons. A few even lit Molotov cocktails. Jake watched the guns pointed at him—and instead of fear, he felt something else. Amusement. "They want to pop my tires? Not a chance." Just as everyone expected the lone driver to surrender—to grovel, to beg—the black RV erupted. ROOOOAAAAR—!!! The beast came alive. Jake slammed it into Drive and floored it, straight at the dirt bike blocking his path.

only pain and shock and betrayal. " Kiyara...what are you saying... This is not you" " it is me Mr Raizada.... Kiyara...Oberoy...I am no more the orphan Kiyara Gupta...I am now Kiyara Oberoy... The gang leader and mafia queen of Bombay" and as I said that he stared at me with shock...shit...please forgive me Aarav but I have to do this...because if I won't they will kill you I hope you will be able to forgive me one day for doing this to you

"Dang it." I look at Shaylee, and she looks at me, shaking her head. "Alright, 'Her Dark Knight' it is. Now we need to figure out what the play will be about," Shaylee says. And once again, Andrew surprises us. "It should be about a wolf who tries to resist his feelings for a human he's imprinted on, but the more time he spends with her, the stronger the pull becomes."

Instead, headlights swept across the front yard, bright and smooth, and a big black SUV rolled up slowly, all chrome and tinted windows, looking way too fancy for a guy who usually smelled like gasoline and bad decisions and was always with a bike. I froze. Blinked. “What the hell?” Door opened on the driver’s side. Ryder stepped out leather jacket, black shirt, that same smirk but no helmet hair, no grease stains. He looked... put together. Annoyingly hot. Then the passenger door opened. Zane climbed out. Tall, quiet Zane with the scar on his eyebrow and the permanent “don’t ask” vibe. He nodded at me once, hands in pockets, like this was normal. I crossed my arms. “Okay, first of all, wher

Arthur slid into the passenger's seat of the cab that pulled up in front of him. Richard welcomed him with a grin. “It's freezing out here, man. What took you so long?“ “Sorry, bro. Just had to find the right outfit.“ Richard gestured at his outfit. Black, denim jacket. Black boot. Black gloves. Black hat. Black shades. “You look like you're on goddamn espionage.“ Arthur had zero sense of humor for the night. Something about racing through that door earlier today plunged him into a terrible mood.

The red Ducati roared to a halt in front of the grand hotel, its engine ticking as it cooled. Zoriana didn’t rush. She took a moment to pull off her helmet, her heart drumming a steady, rhythmic beat of war. A few weeks ago, she would have arrived in the passenger seat of Ryder’s SUV, wearing a dress he chose, playing the part of the silent, supportive Luna. Today, she was the driver. Today, she was the storm.