Fanfiction Book Binding Novels & Stories

Lissa and Dan were happy to oblige my request to wait to find out the sex of our baby, but we all desperately wanted to see the little darling and get new pictures. I'd taken scads of photographs of Lissa every chance I got. I wanted to commemorate what she'd done for us, and I wanted to be able to show our son or daughter pictures of the pregnancy. I didn't know if Lissa would want one, but I was working on memory books, carbon copies, so we both had the same thing. I couldn't wait to add these pictures to those albums. It wasn't just a tribute to her-Dan, Brett, and I were in there as well. It was a collection of our lives.

Information about dragon mating bonds was nearly nonexistent, spoken in the same hushed tones one might use when discussing a storm that could swallow the sea. The first book I pulled was heavy and dusty, the cover embossed with faded sigils. The binding creaked when I opened it, and the pages were dry and brittle under my fingers. The script within was neat but faded to the color of tea, and as I flipped through, I saw the signs immediately. Sections that had been deliberately torn out, whole paragraphs erased with care.

Like he was just… Arthur. She was the one for him. I didn’t need to see her to know that. A smile tugged at my lips before I looked back at the book in my lap. The pages were worn soft from too many hands, and the ink faded in places. But the symbols scrawled down the margin were different. My eyes caught on a passage that hadn’t stood out before. Dark binding rituals. Used to trap spirits. Or to keep souls from returning to their bodies… My heart skipped.

The old binding machine was working smoothly making a thud-click sound that you could hear all the way up to the main library. Elena was standing at the end of the assembly line running her fingers over the spine of a bound book. For a time her work had only existed online. Just a bunch of digital files that could be deleted at any moment.. Now holding this physical book with its heavy cardboard cover and blue linen cloth felt like having something real.

Instead of using a lock an organic substance that resembled thin hardened vines or entwined prickly twigs wrapped around the cover and held it closed. They appeared to have a slight nearly living pulse. I scowled curious. What sort of book was this and why was it bound this way? I tugged harder my fingers grazing the rough intricate surface as I attempted to untangle the odd binding. Then a piercing burning pain. I let out a gasp. I looked down at my finger as I flinched away dropping the book with a loud thump. My skin had a thin deep line that was already crimson and dripping blood. With a sharp hiss of pain I muttered a curse. I had been deeply and sharply cut by the binding.

“There you go. All done. Now is this or is it not the book I’m looking for?” She opened the weathered cover. The binding was long since cracked, but holding the book with both hands, she laid it on a nightstand and scanned the table of contents. The book was so old that its words appeared in someone’s handwriting. Not unusual for books about werewolves that contained facts and not nonsense. They didn’t need many copies and the dangers of a printed book going astray and escaping into the wild, then finding its way into the hands of a human increased if they published them in mass quantities.

Then, to the right, and at the end of a long row of books, one book jutted out from the shelf. I pulled it out. It didn’t have a name. It was a leather-bound volume, and its cover had a skeletal hand clutching a wilting rose. I opened the book, skimming through the pages. My stomach turned at some of the rituals inside. Selene was too arrogant, too vein, to resort to grave robbing, and there would be no need to stitch me together if her plan was to take over people’s bodies as she had before. The Binding.

I wanted to pull her to me right there and forget about whatever I wanted to do for her dad, I wanted to show her exactly how much she had been in my head. But just as my fingers were about to brush her shoulder, she moved. Stepped sideways, reaching for a thick, leather-bound notebook that was sitting on her nightstand. She turned back and slammed it hard against my chest. "Ugh!" I grunted, catching the book before it fell. I looked down at the heavy cover. It felt cold and solid in my hands. I looked back at her, confused. She was still standing there, naked and beautiful, but the look in her eyes was cold and serious.

In addition, she had filled the basket with plenty of tasty drinks that tasted like fruit juice. It was everything one could possibly want if they were going to lie on a blanket in the beautiful summer sun and read a book about elven history. I lay down on my stomach, placing the book in front of me. It was large and heavy. Just for fun, I flipped to the back—there were no fewer than four hundred and forty-nine pages in the book. And that was only volume one! I wondered how many volumes there were in total. I opened the big book and could smell the traces of time in it. All I hoped for was that it wouldn’t be too dry to read.

keeping a magical diary hidden where no shifter's nose could find it. I reached into the dark crevice and pulled out a book bound in shimmering midnight-blue dragon-hide. It was cold to the touch and locked with a blood-seal. I bit my thumb, pressing a drop of crimson to the lock. The leather groaned, the book fluttering open as if it were breathing.