Harley Vivid Black Paint 소설 & 이야기

They gleamed under the bay lighting like something that belonged in a museum rather than a parking structure. I stood there and looked at them, counting out the colors. Green. Red. White. Black. Champagne. Midnight blue. Orange. Silver. Burgundy. Pearl. "Ugh… Mrs. Blackwood?" Blaire's voice came from somewhere behind me. I walked slowly along the row. My hand reached out and touched the hood of the green one. The paint was cool and smooth and absolutely gorgeous. A sarcastic laugh came out of me. "He bought ten cars," I said, to nobody in particular.

A hidden mistake. The city air rushed against her as the motorcycle devoured the road. The sensation was foreign yet achingly familiar. She hadn’t ridden since selling her own bike years ago—for Dio’s birth, for survival, for a life that demanded sacrifice. When she arrived at Harmoni Medika Hospital, she slid the bike into its slot. But before stepping off, her gaze snagged on the machine parked beside her. A Harley. Black as midnight. Its body bore military markings—hard lines, unapologetic. And on its tank, faint scratches like battle scars.

In two days she'd get her bike and never see any of these people again. They stepped outside into the parking lot now dark except for a few overhead lights. Blackwood walked toward a truck parked near his Harley. Maya followed and climbed into the passenger seat when he unlocked it. The interior was clean and expensive. Leather seats. Touch screen display. Nothing like her beat up Kawasaki.

A little after 10:00 PM she parked her Harley Davidson 2010 Street Glide in the parking lot. She was now wearing black leather over her jeans, giving her heart shape rear a nice look. She had a black t-shirt under her leather cut which proudly held the logo for Fallen From Grace biker club. Her breast held the name patch “Red”. She had knee-high boots with a three-inch heel. Her long red hair fell in waves over her back. When she walked in she caught a scent in the air that made her wolf wake up from a deep slumber. Mate. Mate is here.

- River lies on his couch, pondering the ceiling while E Business plays on the television set—showing an ad for some random moisturizer. He checks his phone, then lays it back on his chest, not even a grimace on his face for he was too weary. A second later, the advertisement finishes and begins playing live coverage of Sebastian Black, speaking to the press outside of the Black & Co. building.

Philip walked into the shop first while Agnes went to park the car. When he got in, he heard a sweet voice. “Hello, Sir. Are you here to look at bikes? Which one do you have your eyes on? I can introduce it to you. This is the latest Harley Cruiser FXDRTM114. The promotion price for it right now is 340,000 bucks.” “Alright, how many do you have?” Philip asked. “How many?” The salesperson was stunned. What did he mean by how many? When he saw the puzzlement on her face, he explained, “It’s like this. I like Harleys. So, I want to buy 100 for my staff.”

“Now, before–” Another cough ripped through me, so violent it dropped me to one knee. My ribs screamed. I spat red onto the hardwood. Both of them froze. “Harley,” Gavin said slowly, “that’s not the bond.” “You don’t know that.” “I do,” he said, and rolled up his sleeve. For a second, I didn’t understand what I was looking at. Then the light hit his skin just right, and I saw it. There were dark lines crawling under his flesh, veins gone black like ink spilled through water.

Velvetouch, maybe even a Kolinsky or two. The paint? Golden Fluid Acrylics. Not all of them, but enough. The essentials. Crimson. Indigo. Antique gold. Obsidian black. The kind of colors that made your heart race just imagining what they’d look like on canvas. The glass palette had fingerprints on it… like someone had tested it out, just to make sure it was perfect. I stepped closer. My knees were weak. My chest, tightening. It was everything I loved. Everything I couldn’t afford.

They'd all been waiting for me to find out, like it was some sick entertainment. My hands shook as I dug through my purse for my keys, but then I stopped. My car was parked out back, but sitting right in front of the clubhouse, gleaming under the neon lights, was Darius's pride and joy. The Blackfang. A custom-built Harley that he'd spent months perfecting. Midnight black with silver detailing, it was as beautiful and dangerous as its owner. Was. My wolf whispered in my head, urgent and desperate: “Run. Take it and run.”

He shoved it in the box on the back of his bike, opened his garage door and hopped on the bike. At the turn of the ignition, his bike roared to life. The sound combined with the rumble between his thighs, and the shaking ground beneath his feet was like an aphrodisiac. He loved everything about his bike. He'd never had a prouder moment in his life than when he'd gone to buy it, finally able to afford something this luxurious. It was a Harley-Davidson Road King. Black with brushed chrome accents.