Franklin Library Leather Bound Books Novels & Stories

My fingertips slipped, found purchase, and I managed to hook the book and pull it free. I clambered back inside, my breath coming in ragged gasps, my heart hammering against my ribs. I slammed the window shut, the sound unnaturally loud in the quiet room. I collapsed into the chair, the heavy, solid book on my lap. It was a small, leather-bound volume, the kind one might buy in a secondhand bookshop. The leather was dark green, worn smooth in places, the title long since faded from the spine. It smelled of dust and old paper, the scent of hidden histories.

The library began to whisper to her, a chorus of voices from the past. Usually, this would terrify her. But today, she let it happen. She let the dream merge with the reality. Then, she found it. It was a small book, bound in pale grey leather that felt like human skin. It was shoved behind a stack of tax records from the 14th century. Emily pulled it out. The air in the library went still. The floating ink dropped to the floor. There was no title on the cover. Just a symbol. A closed eye.

Marcus stood there, his massive frame casting a long shadow across the rug. "I remembered you mentioned the library back at your old pack house," Marcus said, his voice low and gravelly. "Julian said it was a waste of space, but I figured you might be bored out of your mind staring at the walls." I didn't answer. I couldn't find my tongue. It felt like a lead weight in my mouth. My gaze drifted to the pile. In the middle of the stack was a small, weathered volume bound in dark teal leather. The edges were frayed, and the spine was cracked. It looked like a book that had been loved, not just stored.

She ran her fingers along the spines, the gold lettering cool against her skin. Drawn in by the sheer volume, she hesitantly pulled a book from the shelf, a slim volume bound in dark blue leather. The title was etched in silver: The Royal Grimoire of Sacred Oaths. She opened it, her eyes skimming the ornate calligraphy, the intricate diagrams filled with arcane symbols.

Looking back, I’m glad I thought ahead, because the dread inside me refuses to leave. As I am searching through the library, I see a very old leather bound book. I hadn’t noticed it before. It looks a little dusty but I see the word ‘Witch’ on the binder. I zero in on this book and reach for it immediately. With the book being so dusty, it’s no wonder I never saw it before. It seemed to have blended in with the rest of the shelf. I sit in my chair next to Mary and the boys are in there bouncing cradles.

The air in Finch’s study was a stratified history of scents: the dry, vanilla-like fragrance of aged paper, the rich perfume of leather-bound books, and the faint, herbal aroma of forgotten tinctures that seemed to cling to the very wood of the walls. Jack sat before a massive oak desk, its surface a battlefield of carved griffins and chimeras. Laid open before him was not a sleek data slate or a modern file, but a heavy, vellum-bound tome. Its pages were yellowed and brittle with age, covered in an elegant, spidery script that spoke of centuries of secrets.

Each shelf was filled with books and scrolls that contained pack history and strategies. My eyes scanned the titles absentmindedly as I made my way to the book Lucian had requested. While I was doing that, my eyes caught something peculiar. On the far shelf at the other end of the office, there was a single leather-bound book that stood out. It was named the Pack Secrets. The title alone sparked curiosity, and without thinking, I reached for it. The worn book cover felt cool against my fingers, and something about it felt forbidden and dangerous. “What are you hiding, Lucian?” I whispered under my breath.

His other hand reached around and slapped her ass once, sharp, then rubbed the sting away. “Harder,” he ordered. She bounced faster. The wet sound of her taking him filled the room. Roman’s grip tightened. He thrust up to meet her every time she dropped down until she came again, shaking, forehead dropping to his shoulder. He held her there and fucked up into her through the aftershocks, then lifted her off him. “On your hands and knees. Face the window.” Lila moved into position. The open blinds made the situation impossible to hide. Roman knelt behind her, spread her cheeks with both hands, and spat on her asshole. His tongue followed, slow and thorough, licking her there while two fingers

I declare what I’m looking for to an empty room, as if some remnant of the magic from my youth will drop them in my lap. If only it worked that way. I have no idea where to even begin. Each and every wall is adorned, from the hard wood floor to the high vaulted ceiling, with shelf after deep, black shelf. My eyes drift up the stairs leading into the alcove off to the right of the window. These books are my favourite. Every word painstakingly hand written, the pages hand bound in thick natural tanned leather. The gilded, gold lettering down the spines stand out crisply against the varied tones of black and brown hides. I half expect my father to stride up behind me and chastise me for even th

The book I was currently opening was larger than the rest, bound in black leather that had cracked and split over time. I flipped through the pages only to freeze when a heading popped out at me. History of the Dark Bond.