Masked Rider Black Novels & Stories

About twenty meters away I spot them, or more to the point I spot him. Clayton Blackridge Alpha of the Lobo Sombra pack in his huge gun metal grey wolf. Standing to his right is a brown and grey wolf slightly smaller in height and not as muscular, possibly his Beta. My wolf starts stalking towards them and even though I am protesting she wants him. As I get closer he shifts back then the other wolf turns I realise he is giving us some privacy.

The bike was a towering, custom built iron behemoth, twice the size of the others, its frame painted a matte black that swallowed the light. The outlaws instantly dropped their weapons, stepping back into a perfect, terrified line of rigid military attention. He's stepping down, the young biker whispered, his teeth chattering from a fear that had nothing to do with the storm. Clear the lane. Clear the lane right now. The heavy black leather boot hit the pavement with a thud that seemed to echo louder than the thunder. A massive, towering figure stepped off the machine, standing well over six feet three, his frame so broad he completely blocked out the headlights behind him. His arms were cov

I stared at my reflection in the mirror. I had on a short, two-piece, black bodycon dress with a slit on my left side for flexibility. I was left-handed in writing and in fighting. The slit was an added advantage. I accompanied my look with some light make-up, peach lip gloss and black eyeshadow. For the earrings, I went for a silver arrow design mis-match pair and finished off with a pair of suede ankle boots. I tied my hair in a neat bun above my head and decided on a small silver purse.

"And if you try to run, I will find you. And I will break both your legs." I believed him. Jackson was waiting by his bike. He wore dark jeans, a black t-shirt under his leather cut, and sunglasses that hid those cold gray eyes. He looked me over slowly, his expression unreadable. "Get on." "I have never been on a motorcycle before." "Then today you learn." He handed me a helmet. "Put this on." My hands shook as I fastened the helmet. Jackson swung onto the bike and looked back at me expectantly. I climbed on behind him awkwardly, not sure where to put my hands.

I am so worried about how bad these dreams get each and every day. I know something is bothering you and as I always say, take me as your best friend and feel free to tell me anything and everything.’ Mariam, Susan’s mother says sweetly to her, to which she nods her head positively. After a little more conversation with her daughter, Mariam retires to her room to continue her sleep. ~> Introduction to characters. Susan Parrish, female protagonists/ Black’s mate. There’s going to be a lot of her POV’s. Jones Black[Abbadon], male protagonist. There maybe a considerable amount of POV’s in his name.

And I was the prize. I felt the shift in the air, the familiar, sharp scent of ozone and wet pine. I wasn't alone. "Coming out to play, Xender?" a voice called from the brush. It was Tristan Blackmoor. He stepped into the clearing, his eyes glowing a sickly, predatory yellow. He looked haggard, his fur matted with mud and blood, but his posture was still that of an Alpha. "I’m not playing, Tristan," I said, my hand instinctively going to the hilt of the silver blade I kept hidden beneath my coat. "I’m ending this."

The rider’s head snaps toward us, face obscured by a black helmet, leather cut catching the glow of the fading sun. “Unmarked,” Tristan mutters. “Good. They don’t belong to any MC I recognize.” He shifts slightly, boots crunching against gravel, his hand brushing the hilt of a concealed weapon. My pulse hammers. The bond flares violently at the sense of threat, my wolf surging in tandem with his. “Tristan…” I murmur, almost instinctively.

Although he had managed to block the attack, the sword still sunk a couple of inches into his arm before his rod was able to get there. “If he had aimed for my chest, I would have been done for!” Black Saga felt his body temperature dive down. And it wasn’t because of the rain and the cold that it brought, but from the realization that his opponent was much better than he was. “Black Saga is out of his game today. White Mask is clearly the stronger warrior!” Peter exclaimed. “Wait a minute folks. Black Saga seems to be taking some medication. Is it to stop the bleeding?” “Not necessarily,” Maggie answered. “That’s a Healing Enhanced Potion.”

She wore her helmet and got ready as Maeve patted on the backs of her friends wishing them luck, she skipped Milo who grabbed her hand and gave a pat to himself using her hand. The announcer announced a new wildcard entry in the race at the last minute and a roaring bike pulled over to her right at a far distance. She squinted her eyes to glance at the bike and it was Ninja H2R. Pretty sick. The bike was all black and the dude was donning black gear, and a black helmet, everything about him was dark and cold. And not to forget he was huge with glorious muscles.

He looks small against the backdrop of the dark, empty road. Ryder pulls up beside the disabled vehicle, the engine of his bike idling with a low, predatory growl. He kills the ignition, the sudden silence ringing louder than the rain. Adrian whips around, his eyes wide. He takes a sharp step back, retreating toward the safety of his car door. His hand clenches around his phone, knuckles white. He’s trembling, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. He can’t see the face behind the dark helmet; he only sees a leather-clad figure stopping in the middle of nowhere. He thinks it’s a thief. A mugger. Something worse.