Mated To The Biker Alpha Vice President

Raven’s POV. The highway is alive tonight. Engines are loud and I ride between the barely existing line of freedom and disaster. That’s where I always end up—between teeth and throat. The Bloodmoon Outlaws convoy rides ahead, three trucks armored heavily, filled by riders with patched leathers and egos too big for their skulls. They look untouchable. They always do. But I have learned the hard way that nothing on wheels is untouchable. My bike hums beneath me, black and stripped down, rebuilt so many times it feels like part of me. Every vibration runs through my legs, up my ribs, until I can’t tell if it’s the engine or my heart. I tighten my grip. Just a few more seconds. Just one dangerous move. I cut into their line, slashing too close to one rider’s wheel. He swerves, panicked, and collides with his brother. They try skidding to a stop, their tires too loud against the floor, and they tumble. It should feel like triumph. But tonight my hands shake on my handlebars. I keep moving, forcing myself forward as their format disarms. Horns blare, curses rip through helmets, but I don’t stop. I can’t. If I stop, I will remember what I’m doing. I will remember why I’m out here at all. The trucks ride into chaos, drivers scrambling to keep control. My laughter rises thin and breathless, not the wild, sharp thing it used to be. It tastes almost bitter tonight, like I’m forcing it through a throat that doesn’t want to laugh. And then I could feel my wolf stiffen, ears up, every nerve on edge. I can feel it before I even know what it is—like the sky waiting to split with lightning. And then the scent hits me. Warm whiskey, leather, and the faintest hint of blood—a promise and a threat in one breath. What’s this smell? My lungs stop working. My fingers tremble. My chest aches with a need I don’t understand but can’t deny. The road tilts under me, the world narrowing until all I can breathe is him. No. Please, no. I know what it means. Mate. The word tears through me, merciless. My wolf howls so loud inside me I almost lose control of the bike. My eyes blur. My throat burns. Then I see him. He cuts through the convoy with terrifying precision, his motorbike moving smoothly. Broad shoulders. Power in every movement. He rides like the road was made just for him, like nothing could ever throw him off balance. And he’s locked straight at me. Panic floods me. My bike shakes when I try to accelerate, like my own body is betraying me. I push harder, but he’s already there—beside me, closing in like he was going to anyway. “Not now,” I whisper, my voice trembling in my ears. “Not you.” He reaches out, gloved hand clamping down on my handlebars. The impact rattles my bones. Our bikes slam together, the sound loud, and fire explodes up my arm where his fingers brush mine through the grip. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. The bond slams into me like a tidal wave—heat, hunger, and a terrible pull I can’t fight. My wolf is on her knees, howling her surrender, desperate to go to him. I turn my head, just once. Through the visor, his eyes catch mine. Silver. Burning. Unforgiving. And I feel it. All of it. Every lonely night, every wound I thought would never heal, every jagged piece of me suddenly reaching toward him like he was made to fit them. It’s too much. It’s killing me. With everything I have left, I wrench my bike away, nearly losing control. My tires threaten to stop. The world tilts and somehow I don’t crash. Somehow I escape. Barely. My laughter breaks out, high and shaky, nothing like triumph. More like I survived. More like covering the sound of my own shattering. I shout, turning my head slightly raw and reckless, “Catch me next time, wolf.” And then I’m gone. But his scent clings to me, choking and burning, branded into my skin. I know it will haunt me now. I know I will crave it when I shouldn’t. And deep down, I know he won’t stop hunting me. The highway empties behind me, the Blood moon outlaws wreckage slowly being swallowed by distance. My lungs burn from more than speed, and my hand aches where he touched me. I should feel victorious. I messed with their delivery. Their shipment’s ruined. Mission accomplished. But all I feel is him. The remnant of his scent is still in my lungs—whiskey, blood, and hunger. Every breath I take drags him deeper into me, like I have swallowed poison I can’t spit out. My wolf is restless, pacing, whining. She doesn’t understand why I am still running when everything inside me is screaming to turn back. I almost do. Gods help me, for one wild second, I almost turn around. The thought terrifies me. I wrench the bike off the main road, into the cover of trees, and branches whip at my arms, and finally, I kill the engine. The silence after my bike turns off is loud and it slams into me like a fist. No more engines. No more adrenaline. No more silver eyes. But my body doesn’t get the message. I swing my leg off the bike and stumble back against a tree, fingers clawing at my helmet. It clatters to the ground, and I drag air into my lungs like I’m drowning. It doesn’t help. His scent is still there, burned into me. My wolf whimpers. Mate. Ours. “No,” I whisper, pressing my palms hard against my eyes until colors burst. “Not him. Not anyone.” I swore. I swore I would never… The bond doesn’t care about vows. It doesn’t care about history, or blood, or all the reasons I can’t let someone this dangerous close. It just is. And gods, it’s stronger than I imagined. My hands are still shaking. The imprint of his grip feels seared into my skin, hotter than fire, sharper than any blade I have ever carried. And the look in his eyes—silver, merciless, claiming, haunts me like a brand on my skin. He felt it too. I know he did. I slide down the tree trunk, burying my face in my arms. For a moment, just a moment, I let the weakness take me. The ache. The pull. The terrifying want. Then I shove it down. I have to. If I give in, I’m finished. The Blood Moon outlaws are one problem. He’s another. And the truth is, I don’t know which one is more likely to kill me. But one thing is certain. He’s not going to stop. Because the mate bond won’t let us go so easily.