Rider Mc Novels & Stories

Madam Amelia seemed to know this as she nodded her head at me. “Now what? You can’t break your vow. What will you do? You can’t have a Wolf Rider running around Astoria.” There it was. She knew what her daughter was. The half human part of it was the least of it. The fact that she was a Rider—a creature that could control a werewolf with a simple command. A creature that ruined my family's life. A creature, who must be destroyed before it gains power. There hasn't been a rider born in half a century, and even before, there was only one that ruled Astoria.

At the front rode figures that made my wolf crawl deeper into hiding. Black Howl MC patches gleamed on their leather vests, the snarling wolf head logo twisted into something darker than what I remembered. This wasn't the Ironfang pack I'd fled from. This was something new, lolthat had evolved in my absence. "Jesus Christ," Tommy breathed from beside the bar. "How many of them are there?" At least forty bikes, I counted, with riders that sat their machines like they owned the world. But it was the figure at the very front that made my heart stop.

As inappropriate as it was, we’d kind of made eyes at each other and snuck off to be alone at the bar for a while, flirting and being way too touchy. He was a champion professional motocross rider, and had formerly been a professional skateboarder. Most of his money came from his sponsorships, as he had amassed millions of followers on social media because of his looks and charisma. It didn’t hurt that he won almost every race he entered, or that he constantly performed wild stunts in front of live crowds.

Coming from the trees were men with strange markings on their bodies, the only piece of clothing on them was around the lower half of their body. Turning my bow to the man, I glared at him. He seemed unfazed by my stare as he too stared back at me, the smirk still gracing his face. He looked different to these men. He wore a brown top with black leather pants, his black hair sitting at the base of his neck. What caught me off guard was the colour of his eyes. They were bright blue, bluer than the sky only meaning one thing. "You're a rider," I whispered. Smiling at me, a small laugh escaped his lips. "How about we all head back to our camp? The leader wants her there now."

The world 'Formula' made my heartbeat in an entirely different way. "As an Ambassador? What company is it?" I couldn't help but ask him impatiently. "It's Riders. I am not sure if you have heard of it.... but they are really famous in their field." 'Are you kidding me? It is the company for which Rhys drive. If I am going to be the ambassador of Riders, that means I will have to work with him. The idea of working with him made me excited and nervous at the same time. However, when I remembered the look that he gave me at the restaurant yesterday, it sent chills down my spine.

“Yes, Patrick. Yes. That is exactly what I think. I think you want to be criminals — I think you love being criminals.” “We don’t love being criminals—” “You do, I can tell. You don’t need the money from your, what even is it? Your cage matches?” “It’s just underground MMA, that’s all. It’s unregulated, that’s all it means.” He pulled over to the side of the road and looked me square in the eye. “Why do you think we do what we do, huh? Any of the Claws. Why do you think we do it?”

"But Mr. Blanchard, it takes both parties to agree to the contract before the client can be secured. I'm not the only one affecting the decision." I sneered. "So, what's the point of you coming here after all?" "I—" I swept my cold gaze past him and said, "You looked like you knew a thing or two about riding earlier. Have you taken lessons before?" Cecil didn't know what I was playing at and replied, "I've ridden a few times when I was younger." Since he was so skilled at riding, that meant he knew more about horses than he let on. He would most probably be able to tell that my horse was a thoroughbred racehorse, one that I'd bought at an auction years ago for 20 million dollars.

Zero keeps his hands in my jeans pocket when we get an energy drink from the short stop. He makes a big display of sneaking his hands up my vest when some other bikers stop for some gas. They are wearing cuts with an emblem that I can't see. Zero says the motorcycle club is called The Sin Riders and that they are 1%ers. Zero explains that they are a small motorcycle club that live in Liston Hills. “I can't believe you chased that man down, and I thought Killer was a nut job.” I shake my head as I slip my helmet on my head, watching Zero saddle the bike.

I declare, and He rolls his eyes. “I have an extra bike in the shed over there, but if you scratch it I’ll rip your head off and hang it on my wall as a trophy,” I warn, turning back to my bike. Maverick turns to the shed and opens the door to reveal a bright red Yamaha R6 with black wheels that has a tag with the name Ezra on it.

"Felicia, I like the idea of you riding a Can-Am Spyder because it's safer than the standard bike. Nothing against your driving. You ride really well. But if you're new to bikes, I just think you'll be more comfortable with three wheels. I wouldn't worry as much if you were on a Spyder." "Thanks; like I said, I'll think about it. I need to make up my own mind," she states firmly giving me a warning look. "Of course. Carson wants to meet up at Wild Riders again this weekend. You down for that?" "Yes, but only if you teach me more about how to play pool," she winks at me. "Deal." The server brings out our meal. "You know the Wild Riders go on longer rides. They have a few campgrounds in the Ca