The Night Rider Motorcycle Novels & Stories

he says with a breathy laugh, his hands anchoring against my shoulders. "My wolf is getting very used to catching your frame," I tell him, slowly letting his waist go. We take a short, brisk hike over to the Nightclaw Rover. The vehicle is heavily lifted, sitting on fat, aggressive rubber tracks meant for climbing dangerous vertical trails and navigating wild pack borders. Luka walks completely around the massive frame, his eyes wide. "This machine is an absolute monster." I pull the heavy driver's door open, stepping back to leave the entrance clear. "Your wolf can take the wheel first."

Triana didn’t have a choice but to be Devance’s back ride. Triana hesitated to sit behind him on his black Ducati scrambler 1100. When Devance hit the throttle, Triana had to hold in his body to be safe.

Nick said. “Are you joining us for lunch?” Joshua asked and I nodded. “Where are we going?” “Nataly’s,” Nick said. “Okay, I’ll give you a half hour head start and still beat you there,” I said. Charlie flipped me his middle finger and I laughed. I started the bike and cruised behind Joshua’s car. Charlie and Nick drove with him and Nataly was next to me on her Aprilia RSV 1000R.

A cloud of dust rises as a sleek black motorcycle roars down the desolate highway. Its engine growls with power, propelling the bike forward with unstoppable force. The rider, known to many as Dante the Lycan hunter, sports a rugged leather jacket adorned with countless patches and insignias. His eyes are hidden behind dark sunglasses, He exudes an air of mystery and danger. As he approaches a weathered roadside bar, the sound of his engine echoes through the open landscape halting at a bar.

If only he had the power to open the evil gates of the Shore with a snap of his finger. He laid there at his bed, staring at the ceiling. In an hour, he would be out there in the dead of the night. It won't be a grand attack, as what they are making the enemies believe. It would just be a straightforward one, quick and simple. Five minutes before midnight, everyone was already on their motors igniting their engines. When Ryder's watch beeped red, he said, ''Let's go.'' Six huge motorbikes built for battle sped across the road. It would surely alert the informants of the enemies that were placed in every corner of the towns but that was their purpose. They will let the enemy that they were co

“Come on, my bike’s just down on the road here.” I thought I was deep in the wilderness, but in the daylight I see now that I’m actually near a dirt road, one that winds through the valleys and switchbacks up a steep mountain. As Nash guides me down the slope, I can see a gleaming red motorcycle leaned up against a pine tree, with a shiny black helmet set down beside it. “Is that yours?” I ask. “Yep.” Nash helps me sit down on the motorcycle, then settles the helmet down on my head, adjusting its straps so that it fits me. “I’ll pick you up a spare next time we hit a town,” he says, then straddles the motorcycle in front of me.

I stormed out of there, I want to get this mission over with. I strode into my garage, the bright fluorescent lights casting a dull glow. My eyes locked onto the sleek, black motorcycle parked in the center of the room. It was a rare, customized model, designed for power and agility, and only top mercenaries could get their hands on a motorcycle like this. But, as it is, only I have this prototype. A hell of a masterpiece.

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.

I holler a confirmation on her order and she replies with a muffled thanks before I head down to the front door. The garage lights come on the minute the door opens and my legs move on autopilot to the Harley. I sit on the Motorcycle, ready for a joy ride and memories of that night come rushing back to me like a freight train. The engine flares to life with a dark rumble and the tires screech as I race down against the asphalt. I reach the nightclub, Clementrout by 8:47 pm and I order a bottle of Vodka to take away the itch that had turned to a need the moment I got on the Harley.

My heart raced as Xavier slowly eased the motorcycle onto the road. The bright moon and stars illuminated the night sky, creating a peaceful and quiet atmosphere, interrupted only by the motorcycle roaring down the road. Riding with Xavier, I started to grasp his passion for this experience. It was as if we were soaring through the night, feeling liberated and untethered from the world around us.