The Night Rider Motorcycle Novels & Stories

I told him. More silence ensued as he walked around the room gathering up anything that was mine. “How are we getting back? I can’t get on a motorbike?” I asked nervously. “Ink left us the truck and took my bike.” Rider told me. “I’ll help you to get in the back with your leg up, your chair can go in the truck bed and I will throw your bags in the front with me.” “I had a bag with me on the night of the crash, it was attached to my bike. Will that be at the clubhouse too?” I asked, I had all of my shit in there.

"It's preferable to go home." Afterwards, we put our shoes and immediately head to his bike. We came to the beach on his big sleek motorcycle. It's an amazing black Kawasaki Ninja with some prominent white outlines. I was afraid to have a ride on this beast at first, but I trusted Eren though he tried to scare the hell out of me by burning up the road like grease lightning.

He gestured toward the passenger window. I turned and followed his gaze. Parked a couple of spaces away, hidden in the shadows behind a concrete pillar, was a motorcycle. It was a black sport bike, as out of place as could be among the fancy cars of the hotel. “A ride?” He asked. He was offering me a motorcycle ride. The president of Night Reaper was offering me to sit behind him. I looked at the bike, then back at him. My heart skipped a beat. The wind. The speed. Just like that night.

Just shadows and silence and the distant sound of celebration from the banquet hall. Then something caught my eye. A motorcycle parked near the courtyard’s edge, gleaming black metal catching moonlight. I moved closer, recognition making my breath catch. A Black Howl bike. The crest attached to the frame was unmistakable, the kind only given to high-ranking pack members. What was someone from Darius’s pack doing in the Broker’s territory? The bike was too expensive, well-maintained to belong to anyone ordinary. This was someone with authority. Someone important. I stared at that bike, my mind racing. If a Black Howl member was here, maybe they had information about Eli, they’d seen something

The voices intensified as a beam of light lit up Jeremy on a higher stage. The rhythm he played started soft and slow but little by little the drums intensified. When the symbols crashed, a platform rose onto the stage with Kyung Jiho on it. Hae Mina grinned when she saw the white slivers light up under the black lights. On the back of Kyung Jiho's shirt was his name and on the arm was the Nightide emblem. The drum's symbols crashed and the next instrument joined. One by one, Nightide appeared on the stage with their parts. Hae Mina knew this was not her song to come in on because she had never been given a part.

The rider soon pulled up into the neighbourhood with a cloud of dust behind him, flashing a powerful luminous headlight that outdid the street lamppost. The final destination was a wall covered with graffiti made with coal, cheap paints, blood and other human matter, that still smell through the arts, most likely the work of juveniles and junkies. The rider dismounted gracefully, clad head to toe in an all-black leather outfit, with every detail—from the reinforced boots to the armoured gloves, dark blackout Kala Carbon helmet and … a rubber duck keychain? Whoever, the unidentified rider was, they definitely had a weird taste.

But as Dax leaned me back against the cabin’s cedar siding, his hand sliding up to tangle in my hair, the Norton’s alarm chirped a sharp, discordant note that shattered the moment. The sapphire light of the Engine began to flicker, turning a violent, aggressive red. "Dax," I panted, pulling back. "Something is pinging the frequency." From the tree line of the fiber-optic pines, a single rider emerged. This wasn't an Aegis drone or a federal agent. The bike was a raw, skeletal thing a stripped-down streetfighter that looked like it had been built from the wreckage of a dozen different machines. The rider wore a vest I didn't recognize: a snarling wolf's head, but with its eyes stitched shut i

I took the Ducati. Black matte monster I kept for nights when the darkness got too loud. No plates, no mercy. I threw a leg over it in the parking garage, didn’t bother with a helmet. The second the engine caught, the roar bounced off concrete walls like gunfire. My hair whipped back as I pinned the throttle and shot into the night. Grimm woke up. That other guy I buried under championships and magazine covers and fake smiles, he cracked his neck and took the wheel. Grimm didn’t talk things out. Grimm didn’t feel bad afterward. Grimm handled business.

A new and limited edition Harley Davidson motorcycle, shiny black with red stripes on the sides, stops with a soft thud halfway through the driveway. The driver, a tall and athletic man, wearing a full-face helmet with glasses, a leather jacket, and knee-high boots, got off his motorcycle quietly. Everyone who saw him was deeply impressed by his dramatic appearance. The men admired the big motorbikes which were extraordinarily expensive and the women were curious about the face of the Harley Davidson rider.

They were sat on motorbikes, huge powerful Honda Goldwings a couple of Harley and a stunning silver BMW Exclusive that Kuri threw his leg over, ‘Coming for a ride baby girl? He held out his hand again, this time with a helmet in it and she took it without hesitating, ‘Too fucking right’ She put the helmet on and swung her leg over wrapping her arms around his waist, ‘Hold on tight baby girl’ He laughed and the powerful bike roared to life, he circled the arena and then raced out onto the road, watching in his mirror as Anders raced out to see them disappear. ‘Fuck’ The Beta was horrified Kuri had just set himself up against his Father and where Atalanta was concerned Sirius showed no mercy t