The Night Rider Motorcycle Novels & Stories

"Get the bikes. The North Ridge trail. We stay on our side of the wire." "Of course, Alpha," Ezra bowed his head, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—a flash of triumph that should have set off every alarm in my head. We rode hard. The roar of a dozen Harleys tore through the midnight mist of the Black Fang forest. I was at the front, pushing my bike to the absolute limit, the engine screaming as I leaned into the sharp, gravel-strewn turns of the ridge. Behind me, Kai, Ezra, and ten of our most lethal enforcers followed like a funeral procession of chrome and leather.

It makes for a very entertaining dynamic I can tell you that. I forgot about mom and her unexplained 'visit' a few hours later as I went for one of my midnight rides. There's nothing like the feel of a powerful bike between one's thighs as you race through the night. And for that reason I think the motorcycle is one of the bleeders' best inventions. It's almost as freeing as flying high above the trees and feeling the wind against one's skin. And it scares humans less that's for sure. They're a timid bunch these bleeders, afraid of everything including their own shadow.

I thought she'll hold me instead of punching me on my back. "Ow! Ow! Ow!" Elena laughed while punching me. "I'm riding here. What if we fall?" "This is not a sports bike and we're not going at a 100km speed to get hurt when we fall." I laughed at that and said, "You learned to talk a lot and now you're even teasing me." "Stop talking and throttle fast. We have a lot to see in the park." "If we can't see everything today then let's visit another time too."

She decided to entertain herself and go to a place where she could think freely. It's only a few kilometers away from their home, a place where the mountains are on the side of the road and in view but he can't see it now because it's night. Even so, he doesn't feel afraid because there are still people there, lovers who want to chill, riders who are the same reason for going there. The wind brushed against the girl's skin as she savored it to make medicine for her bitter feelings.

**Ryder** Luca didn’t seem to take a breath while loosely sharing his strange fantasies in the bedroom. I managed to block him out, nodding my head every now and then so he would think I was still listening. Relieved to finally make it to the security gates of the storage facility I scanned my key card and the metal gates automatically opened. I chose this facility to store my bike because security is a top priority here. I sped up my pace to a fast walk. Adrenaline was already coursing through my veins with anticipation of the ride. Damn, it has been too long, I couldn’t wait to turn the throttle and feel the power of my bike beneath me. There’s something about riding that calms me. It’s li

A lone rider on a black motorcycle cut through the traffic with a precision that had nothing to do with being late for dinner — full helmet, dark clothing, gloves, moving through the crowd like something that had learned a long time ago how to be forgotten the moment it passed. No one paid the rider any mind until three vehicles approached from the opposite direction, aimed unmistakably at the road leading up toward the Voss villa. Inside, armed men had been sent to probe the estate's defenses and bring back whatever intelligence they could gather for something bigger still being planned. The motorcycle accelerated without warning, weaving between cars with a control that looked less like sk

There are only two things in this fucked up world I give a damn about, motorcycles and women. ​I ride them both the same way with a heavy hand and zero mercy. I like easing into the stroke, feeling the machine warm up beneath me, then manhandling them around tight corners until the metal screams. I want them redlining, vibrating through my bones until they’re begging me to let off the gas. I don't do gentle. I do control. ​Sup, Boss.

"Tagging? With what?" "Microscopic RFID tracers," Sam explained, her voice tight with urgency. "The tech is bleeding-edge. The moment a high-performance motorcycle exceeds eighty miles per hour within a five-mile radius of a WEG-owned property, the overhead sensors hit it with a tracker the size of a dust mote. It’s designed to stick to carbon fiber and aluminum. It pings the bike's location the second the engine stops. Katia, he’s hunting something or someone, it's obvious. He’s trying to map every bike in the city that matches the specs of the one that humiliated his security team in Manhattan."

His jaw tightened, but his eyes softened just a fraction. He didn't make empty promises. He didn't tell me everything was going to be fine. Instead, he turned and dragged me by the hand toward the mouth of the alley. Parked under the dim streetlamp sat a massive, matte-black motorcycle. It looked like a beast resting in the dark, heavy and custom-built, the Iron Fang symbol painted subtly across the gas tank. The night air bit at my cheeks, but my blood was burning with pure terror. Zane stepped up to the machine, swung his long leg over the seat, and brought the engine to life.

Then it happened so fast it felt unreal. Three motorbikes flew out of nowhere, cutting through the night with mad speed. One had a rider, all in black with a helmet covering his face. The other two? No riders at all, yet they moved like machines possessed. One bike slid straight into the two trucks at her front, the other rammed into the one chasing from behind, shaking them off balance for just a moment. That moment was enough. The rider stopped right at her Bugatti, engine growling, smoke and sparks still behind him. Avery’s hair was a mess, sticking to her sweaty face as she looked up through wide eyes.