Green Ghost Rider Novels & Stories

“You go on the back?” “I’m not riding on the back of my own bike,” I scowled. “How about you go on the back?” I winked. “No, it’s fine, I’ll be good,” he pouted. And he was. He brought us both to a very explosive orgasm with me bent over my workbench in no time at all. Ghost giggled like a schoolgirl when he took the YZF-R1 out. I had never seen the second in command of a motorcycle club look so innocently happy.

Even as Ghost took a deep breath, his entire body spasmed as if each part had their own thoughts. "Did you know how much pain I'd put myself through for power, just to stop Torrent's pursuit?!" "Are those… Grey eyes?" Skyler paused when she saw those eyes stitched into Ghost's belly. "Indeed!" Ghost laughed maniacally amid Skyler's shock. "Did you think I was hiding in the hospital to acquire a body compatible with the power of the spiritron vein? "Well, you're wrong! I've since slain three scumbags, each wielding the power of the spiritron vein as well, and grafted their remains to my own body!"

"They're recruits." Noah nodded slowly. "That's what we're thinking." I studied the photographs for another moment. The men weren't professionals in the traditional sense. They'd handled weapons well enough. They'd followed instructions. But they lacked identity. No history. No reputation. Nothing linking them to any established organization. Ghost Rider wasn't building an army. They were hiring tools. Disposable ones. The doctor tied another stitch before finally speaking. "You know," he said dryly, "most patients ask me whether they'll recover."

At that moment, a glint of murderous intent flashed across Gerald’s eyes as the youth retrieved the Phangrottom Talisman! Once it was in his grasp, the talisman immediately began emitting a dark purple light… that soon released an immense wave of energy! The next thing anyone knew, countless ghosts—who appeared to be warriors of the Phangrottom Clan—suddenly manifested! The Soul Hunters didn’t even have time to register what was happening before they were mercilessly attacked by the ghosts…! Within seconds, the only thing that remained of the Soul Hunters were pools of blood… “H-Holy sh*t…!” exclaimed the shocked Rey as he immediately began rubbing his eyes in disbelief.

I don't care if anyone sees me or if I end up on the news my anger will never let this man go free. "Listen, dude, I didn't come here to play. I came here for answers. Now quit playing and tell me what being a grey wolf means." His smile isn't there anymore, he looks as confused as ever. "I'm not playing with you Chloe, you were born a grey werewolf. Your father was a grey werewolf, you're a grey werewolf. Grey werewolves are more powerful than regular werewolves, grey wolves are also the only breed of werewolves to not be controlled by the moon. You all can turn at will and it won't even hurt." He chuckles. "Y'all are lucky bastards."

Then, without a second thought, he joined her in the water, slashing at his own wrist. As the blood mixed with the water, Grayson's vision blurred. In his final moments, he saw me—there, standing at the edge of the bathtub. His face lit up with a wild, desperate joy as he tried to stagger toward me, calling my name. "Honey," he cried, his voice full of longing. I stared at him, my eyes cold and distant, a disgust so sharp it cut through everything. "I'm not your honey," I said. "Not in this life, not in the next, not in any life to come. Not ever."

“You’re calling the cops?” “No, I’m calling an ambulance. You said there are children. They need medical attention, we can report the accident later. Write down your details, please.” He handed me a black notebook. The front is embossed with gold lettering. Greyson Elliot. Slack-jawed, I glanced at the notebook, then cast my gaze over the God before me. It can’t be? It’s not possible. He has Greyson’s eyes but nothing else. Greyson Elliot is a scrawny, acne-ridden geek and dirt poor. And I haven’t laid eyes on him in a decade.

He stood straight with a serious face as he began his explanation. "Ghosts are the souls of dead humans who... well, aren't ready to rest in peace. They don't have powers. All they can do is move from one place to another without being seen. Well, not by everyone though." "But... if you're a demon, why then are you in this form?" She couldn't help but ask.

Whispers rippled through the rows behind us. Only two companies had received a reaction like that. The Goddard Group International. And Cross Holdings. “Cross Holdings already has this locked down,” a woman whispered. “Nobody stops the Ghost,” another man murmured. “Not unless the Goddards stop him.” Then I turned to Julian. “That man from earlier… who was that?” I whispered. Julian didn’t answer right away. His eyes stayed fixed on the stage while his grip on my hand loosened just a little.

She stood and slipped her phone into her hand. "I need to take this somewhere quieter," she told Maya. "I'll be right back." Maya nodded. "Go ahead. I'll keep your space." Olive moved away from the crowd, searching for somewhere quiet enough to hear the conversation. She had barely disappeared when another group of riders entered the preparation area. Among them was Ghost. Ethan. He wore his usual black racing suit, gloves, boots, and the dark helmet that concealed his entire face. He had been racing long enough for people to distinguish him physically from the other bikers.