Green Ghost Rider Novelas e Histórias

He was tense earlier because of the stares, but I'm sure he was enjoying their adoration of him. Ghosts don't favor crowded spaces. Their real name is Myles McCormick, aka Ghost. He's only a few years younger than me before he joined the team. He has been given the name Ghost because of his code name. He is good at not being spotted. He's a great master of disguise, and you wouldn't think twice to know who or where he is. He's like a wandering ghost who came to fuck you.

" Wow! It doesn't seem like she can see ghosts hmm. Yes she can see ghosts but she doesn’t want to tell to other people about that. "But you can see ghost duh!” I said with full of sarcasm. "Yep. If it's a real ghost, and are you scared in ghosts? Opps.. you’re a ghoster remember?" And my crazy friend laughed as if she wasn't a ghoster too. "Wow am I the only ghoster here? You too" I muttered to her. "Hmm Aeshe whats the feeling of being ghosted?” she asked me out of nowhere. "Did you see the guys who cry when we are leaving them? And to see a guy crying with just a week of flirting with them it would have been a lot of pain that it caused them to cry like that." I said to her.

Who could it be? The base’s clinic is a small room tucked in the back. It has all sterile white walls and the sharp smell of antiseptic. Jade, our medic, is bandaging a guy’s arm when I walk in. I recognize him immediately—Ghost, one of the Shadow Riders’ heavy hitters. His face is pale, but his eyes are sharp, watching me as I step closer. “MG” he calls, his voice rough but steady. “ It's no wonder Nyx shot you.” I say, forcing a smile. The guy was very rude at me the last time I was at their clubhouse, suspecting me for being a snitch.

“You’re late.” My head popped up as I recognized the gravelly voice. Ghost was leaning against the side of the building, looking like a badass GQ model. He wore slim black cotton pants and a greyish-brown button-down shirt that looked tailored and expensive. The shirt was untucked underneath his motorcycle jacket in an attempt to look casual. Most of the girls walking by walked into one another or stumbled on the edge of the sidewalk. The fact that his eyes were steeled on me raised my spirits.

"Show me." --- The packs converged at the edge of the forest where the sightings had been reported. The air was thick with tension as they waited, weapons at the ready. The ghostly mist began to thicken, and a chill ran down their spines. Out of the mist rode a figure on a spectral horse, its eyes burning with an otherworldly fire. The ghost rider's appearance was both terrifying and mesmerizing. Clad in armor that seemed to glow with spectral light, the rider wielded a whip that crackled with dark energy.

" Ghost brows furrowed. “Let Ciara go. It doesn’t have to get bloody between us. Ryder won’t like that. He wants you alive and untouched." “Who the fuck is Ryder?" “Alpha Ryder of Red Cross Pack. You were his…" Ghost toned out the remaining words as he sighted Sergio running out of the nightclub. He’ll be damned if Sergio gets to the hideout before him. He turned to the guy with the gun. “I’ll be seeing you soon." Then he fired two shots at his kneecaps. Shockingly, the bullets hit the ground. They couldn’t penetrate the man’s skin. Ghost stared blankly at the bullets and then at the man.

Then the rider lifted both hands. Not in surrender. With caution. Like someone approaching a wounded animal. Their voice came out distorted through a modulator. “Ghost,” they said softly. Everything inside me stilled. Only three people ever called me that. One was dead—Saint. One should’ve been dead—Shade. And the third… The third was an ally long buried in the dark. A ghost from my old life. The rider reached up and slowly—very slowly—removed their helmet. My breath caught.

Her mum would cry out blood and her dad would throw punches the size of a truck. The ghost who valued words more than gold had yet again decided to remain mute. Remind me, why am I the active partner in this?! Her eyes closely scanned him, evaluating this her ghost husband and wondered how his lean nature and incredible height did not mar his physique as he filled his white shirt and black suit pants with acute fitness.

he says as he walks past me with Rover over his shoulder with his ass exposed to the world to see. “I have a better idea,” I say, removing my own helmet and following Ghost inside. Thorn and Crybaby are in the van waiting for orders while Thorn erases our passage through cameras. “Where do you want this piece of shit?” Ghost asks and I point at the chair in the middle of the room. The only thing above it is a single lightbulb. I know it is very cliche, but I wanted him to be afraid as soon as his eyes opened again.

It resembled heat haze over a frozen pond. Roric raised his lance, but Kael gestured for him to wait. "Don't waste the charge." Out of the gray mist emerged a wolf. But it wasn't an ordinary wolf; it was a Ghost-Packer. It stood nearly seven feet tall, made of a translucent, oily smoke that shifted and swirled. Instead of eyes, it had two hollow cavities filled with flickering violet static-the remnants of a soul deleted by Liora's "Link," yet refusing to leave the physical plane.