Werewolf On A Motorcycle Novels & Stories

It hit Martin in a streak of teeth and claws. “WALT! HELP ME!” Walt backpedaled, panic flooding him. “I— I’m sorry!” He bolted for the cab, slamming the door, fumbling the ignition. “Come on, come on—” The engine caught. He jammed it in gear. Headlights swung across the alley just as the beast lifted its gore-dripping muzzle. He floored it. The werewolf sprinted. Leapt. Glass exploded as it smashed through the windscreen into the cab. The truck fishtailed, slammed into a brick wall, chassis shrieking. Walt’s scream cut off as the thing fell on him.

It landed in the middle of the battlefield, causing everyone, including the Carnifex, to step back. The motorcycle rider didn't waste any time, immediately lashing the nearby enemies with a whip. The beasts screamed in pain, astonishing everyone because they knew that they should be numb. After that, using a dagger, the rider charged at the Carnifex one by one. The beasts fell one after another after being stabbed in their heart, causing the others to scatter and flee. A sudden silence ensued when the werewolves and the mysterious motorcycle rider remained.

These questions swirled in his mind, but he maintained his focus, determined to fulfil his duty as a werewolf protector. Suddenly, Mark halted, his body tensing. Ryder swiftly took cover behind a large tree, peering through the branches to see what had caught Mark's attention. In the clearing ahead, a pair of yellow eyes glowed in the darkness, revealing the presence of a formidable figure. The rogue wolf stood tall and muscular, its fur a dark shade of gray, bristling with aggression. It growled, revealing its massive teeth, while flexing its powerful claws. Ryder could sense the wild energy emanating from the creature and braced himself for the impending confrontation.

As the first rays of dawn painted the sky in hues of orange and pink, the werewolf pack gathered in the heart of Luka's territory, their eyes ablaze with determination. Ardolf, a towering figure with a mane of jet-black fur, exchanged a knowing glance with Brian, his trusted lieutenant. Athena, with her sleek silver coat and piercing amber eyes, stood by their side, ready for the impending battle. Behind them, the rest of their pack, a formidable force of loyal warriors, awaited the signal.

he said, not through his voice, but through some kind of telepathy that he didn’t know he could use until now. Nico knew that he should get his friend off him. But how could he not struggle when he was also secretly enjoying the strong rhythm of the heartbeat closest to him? Goodness, if he let himself get horny, he would have rolled his eyes back in pleasure right now. But no, this was his friend, not some mindless thrall that he could play with as he pleased. “Hey man, stop it!” he said as he made an effort to push the man-wolf back. The werewolf was certainly stronger than him, but it didn’t mean that he couldn’t do anything. “Get a hold of yourself!”

Since all he needed was the insignia on the fabric, he simply tore it off, avoiding the stress of the unclothing the dead body. He quickly observed that the array of motorbikes parked beside his car also had the same insignia stamped on their bodies. It confirmed he was at the right place. He had a certain knowledge that Nicholas's pack was the only Werewolf pack in the whole town of Lunadelephia. So he also knew that any Werewolf he came across in the town was either his pack member, or a mutant.

The roar of motorcycles cuts through the smoke and screams like a call to salvation. They come from three directions—Black Talon, Ashwood, Iron Fang—their bikes tearing through the forest, their wolves already shifting mid-ride. I see the flash of leather and chrome, the glint of weapons, the fury in their eyes. United. For us. Cade's wolf hits the first corrupted shifter like a freight train, his jaws closing around the creature's spine with a sickening crack. River is right behind him, his massive form a blur of silver and rage as he tears through the faction's line.

Ronan The last carriage wheel cuts a deep rut in the snow, the iron rim squealing faintly as it vanishes around the curve of the lodge road. Blue and silver banners trail behind the convoy, their embroidery catching the weak dawn light like water rippling over ice. The guards ride in stiff formation, helms gleaming, horses shod in steel. What the hell kind of werewolf rides a horse? Beside me, Jace stands with his hands clasped loosely behind his back, watching them go without a word.

“It was good knowing you.” In a minute, that gorgeous bike would be smashed to smithereens. The thing with werewolf motorbike races–it started with a motorbike and ended in wolf form. The rule was that halfway through the race, the bikers would shift into their wolf and do the final round of the race. Extra points for those who ruin their bikes in the process. It sounded messed up, but to witness those giant beasts as they shifted and smashed the living daylights out of a metal machine their size was a thrill beyond comparison.

“So that’s it? We are all going to march towards the mansion so you could negotiate with your brother?” “It’s the only way,” I answered Frix, hoping to not sound skeptical. He gave me a doubting look and tossed one of his helmets at me. It’s lighter than I thought. But then I can’t remember the last time I drove one and seeing Frix drive one of the latest models made it a lot cooler than the thought of riding on the back of a werewolf. Yeah, I’m just trying to get some excuse to not ride on the back of Kelly’s wolf form because the thought is somehow awkward and it’s humiliating for me. Good thing Frix had saved me from the embarrassment and brought his motorcycle with him.