The Night Rider Motorcycle Novels & Stories

"Baby, you're assuming we'll let you get ahead." "Let me?" I turn the key. The engine roars to life—thunder trapped in chrome and muscle. The bike vibrates beneath me, eager and alive, and I feel it everywhere. "You don't let me do anything, River. You follow. Or you get left behind." Cade laughs, the sound rich with challenge. "Big talk for someone who hasn't seen what we're riding." That's when I notice them—two more bikes in the shadows of the garage. A matte black Dyna Wide Glide with aggressive forward controls that screams dominance. And a sleek Street Glide with custom paint that matches River's wolf in shifted form, all silver and smoke.

"You have been cooped up inside this concrete compound for days now. I thought you might really need some fresh air to clear your head." He led me out through the back door and into the bright sunlight of the yard, walking toward the long line of shiny motorcycles parked against the wall. His bike was completely unmistakable—it was a massive, heavy black Harley-Davidson motorcycle with bright chrome details that caught the sunlight and a large Iron Reapers skull painted right onto the fuel tank. He reached over, grabbed a black helmet from the handlebars, and handed it to me. Then, he stepped closer and helped me strap it tightly under my chin, his large, tattooed fingers moving with careful

[Fingerprint recognition successful. Zeke was rooted to the spot, looking at the motorcycle that had been fired up as the front of the machine rose, the handlebars popped out, the saddle emerged, and the wheels split into compound wheels. The machine seemed to come alive, as a white streamers-like glow enveloped the body as if an angry lion woke up in the sunlight. It felt violent and cool but also difficult to control. "This bike can reach a top speed of two hundred miles per hour. Do you really want to try it?" Nicole asked as she looked at Zeke's stunned expression.

STIX The renegades moved their motorcycles into the back of the mill, before retiring to the rooms Mary assigned them. At this point, if there were any nosey shits on our pack territory, we didn’t want them finding out the renegades were here. The only problem was they would have heard them. There was no mistaking the sound of their large and loud bikes. Anyone would be able to hazard a guess as to who rolled in in the late hours of the night.

“Now, gentlemen, what shall we talk about?” “Riders!” one of the sentries shouted as Ralta rushed forward at his cry. The battle hardened, giant of a man looked out passed the edge of the Roman lines to see them coming. He could tell at a glance they were merely the pickets he’d ordered out returning. Yet, they were not alone. A huge man, bounced and grunted along the rough ground, dragged behind one of the Roman horses on a thick rope. The Roman line parted to allow the riders entrance. The battered man they had brought with them was a Pict warrior, denoted by his size, orange hair, tattoos and foul smell.

Emmett swallowed hard and scratched his head, as he hadn’t raced in a while, but for Eli, he would do it. “So, where is he?” Eli asked, but they were interrupted by the sound of a motorcycle engine, and Eli knew exactly what kind of motorcycle made that sound. “Damn. One of my favorite expensive motorbikes. BMW HP4,” Eli muttered, then pushed the people blocking his way to see who wanted to challenge Emmett. He frowned when he saw one of the most expensive motorcycles in the Philippines and squinted to identify who Emmett’s opponent would be, but he couldn’t recognize him.

More importantly,we take missions that involve saving women. " Yeah right. I'll be on my way. Drive safely." Zero bids me goodbye. He walks to his motorcycle,a shiny black Harley Davidson. I watch him drive away,the loud roaring sound of the engine echoing in the quiet night. I get inside the car and drive towards my apartment. I pull up in front of the apartment and turn off the engine. I step out and lock the door behind me. It's been days since I last came home and I miss my bed. The hospital bed was nothing comfortable. If anything, every night I laid down, I would wake up feeling like I was not sleeping but working throughout the night.

The roaring engine of the motorcycle finally quieted as Thalia pulled into the gravel lot of a vintage, twenty-four-hour diner. Sitting isolated under the sprawling dark sky, its buzzing neon sign cast a hazy pink and blue glow over the wet gravel. Thalia kicked the stand down and pulled off her helmet, her Lycan body heat still radiating a gentle warmth into the cool night air. Behind her, Nadia slid off the seat, her hands trembling slightly as she let go of Thalia’s waist. Neither of them spoke as they walked inside, the small bell above the door chiming softly.

Two hours later she was wearing another one of his shirts and roaring up the beach on a stolen motorcycle. She grinned under the black helmet. She'd never ridden a Ducati XDiavel S before. She'd've pegged Soloman as more of an old school Harley kind of guy. But hey, she wasn't going to complain. She needed the kind speed only a crotch rocket could provide to put some distance between her and the kind of hell that would fall on her head once Soloman found out she was gone.

“Kamari, I need to show you something outside.” I followed him out into the driveway, my hand instinctively going to one of my daggers. Old habits. Sitting in the driveway was the most beautiful motorcycle I’d ever seen. Black with purple accents that seemed to glow in the morning light. It was sleek, powerful, and aggressive at the same time. My chest tightened as I stared at it. “You got me a bike?” I couldn’t keep the surprise out of my voice. “It’s for the mission.” His tone was flat and emotionless. “You’ll need your own transport. The rest of us will be in the van.”