The Night Rider Motorcycle Novels & Stories

I turned on the yard lights, pulled out the motorcycle, started it up and opened the stockade with the remote. The motorcycle was cobbled together from useful parts. It had a 4-stroke 500 cc single modified to run on aviation gas and a muffler from an old chevy that kept it quiet. It started right up. The seat was extra long and had a removable cover of towel-type fabric, which was easier on the bare skin (like Li's bare crotch) than leather or vinyl in the cold morning air. The extended custom seat could actually hold three people, and there was a storage box mounted on a rack behind the seat which held a back-pad in place. I checked and everything was there. The bike had 4 headlights so vi

I didn’t have to turn and look at him to see his arrogant smirk. At first he was only following after me, but I knew he wouldn’t like the idea of him following my steps… One way or another he ended up leading the way downstairs until we were outside the house. My eyes widened the moment my eyes caught a glimpse of the motorcycle Nico presented to me when we were about to leave. “Is that Harley-Davidson Night Rod Special?” I didn’t even look at his direction to see how shocked and surprised he was by knowing the exact name. Enzo was very obsessed with motorcycles, I even gifted him one on his birthday years ago, yamaha vmax!

The pavement blurs beneath my feet as we run, bullets buzzing around us like furious wasps. I have no idea where we’re going. “Here.” He yanks my arm, veering us into a dimly lit alley. The motorcycle ahead of us is a beast on two wheels. Royal blue and black, tall, powerful, dangerous, and beautiful. The kind of machine that screams speed and chaos. Midnight mounts it without pause and extends a hand to me. I’m still catching my breath, but I don’t waste time. I grab on and climb behind him. The engine roars like thunder as he takes off.

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.

As the white street light hit it, the bike was shining with a golden luster. Although Charlotte was the most wanted socialite in Rothesay, she was not a typical goody-two-shoes kind of girl. She liked several extreme sports, including motorcycle racing. Therefore, when Charlotte had come to “The Pearl" not long ago, she had immediately recognized this bike as the world's top superbike, also known as "Nightingale", at first glance. Because “The Pearl" had excellent security measures, the owner had not even removed the bike key after getting off.

I don't know how I can get them to trust me. I stepped out of her house, just to get some fresh air until something shiny caught my attention. But once my eyes landed on the most amazing thing I had ever seen; it was more than just shiny, the beautiful beast that lay before me was a Ducati Diesel 1260. It's literally one of the best motorcycles ever, this is Dawn's. Whenever my uncle would come to the palace when I was young, he used to teach me and Malcom the basics since he had a motorcycle of his own.

Warrick Luna trails behind me as I stride from the house, heading for my custom- designed motorcycle. The salt air is kissing it into a bucket of rust, but nothing to do about that in these parts. My brothers and I worked on my baby for a solid year, testing and perfecting each change until we hit the sweet spot. She’s a vintage Harley, chopped low and mean like me. A chrome skull and crossbones leer from the handlebars, and the engine’s a loud growl, warning shifters and humans alike to get the fuck out of the way, ‘cause I’m going to blow through them, past them or over them. The frame’s been converted to a rigid hardtail, we added eight inches to the frame tube, and the steering neck rake

She recognized the territory by the painted insignia slashed across a rusted road sign: two crescent moons crossing a skull. Her gut clenched. Moonburn Riders territory. Not good. “Get back on the bike,” she snapped. “But it’s dead…” “On. Now.” Sabrina blinked at her, confused, but obeyed. Headlights appeared on the horizon, one pair, then three, then more, engines snarling like a pack of wolves. The wolf in Raven’s blood stirred violently, clawing at her insides. The Moonburn Riders had found them. Seven bikes rolled up in formation, circling like sharks. Their engines thundered, their black leather vests flashing silver insignias under the moonlight. The Riders were legends in between half

The roar of a motorcycle rumbled down the quiet street, a bulky figure clad in black leathers sitting astride his iron horse, the helmet visor blacked out so no one could see who was behind the mask. Slowly the bike and its rider gathered stares as they passed, some from children playing in their front yards, others from parents wondering who was in their midst. All wary of the power radiating from the stranger riding his Harley, there was another Alpha in Howling Warrior territory.

BILLIE I snap my jaw shut while Thorne gives me an amused but sympathetic look. I shake my head at him and follow Tristan down the stairs. “What’s with the helmet?” I ask. “You’ll see.” Talkative, this one. We walk outside over to a spot near the end and stop at a motorcycle. Not one of the huge, Harley Davidson, ear-splitting hogs from my old neighborhood, or a moped in fluorescent sport colors, but a stylishly small red and black roadster with the name Triumph on one side. It looks retro, like something Indiana Jones or Captain America would be riding around on during World War II. He helps me adjust the helmet on my head.