Journal 3 Cover Novels & Stories

However, I’d still recommend you read it first. I nodded, ‘And what about this one?’ I pointed to the other journal, just as beautiful as the first, maroon-tinted leather and stamped with a full moon in the centre. ‘This,’ he placed the navy journal down and smiled, ‘is one of the journals from the Alpha before the one before my father. It’s again not that useful, but I think you’d enjoy yourself reading it.’ Trying to hold back the growing heat from my cheeks, I turned my head and looked up at him slightly.

A journal! A journal with Aurelia's name imprinted on the cover. My hand traced the name on the cover softly with a heavy heart, a familiar feeling I can't place. I opened the pages and the first one was a picture of Lucian. I snarled at the image Curiosity got the best of me and I sat on the floor,as I flipped through the pages with different emotions. But the page that ruined me was the one I never expected. Aidan!.

No matter how many sketches we’d drawn in the dark, wax models we’d designed, nothing was real until the gem sat beneath your lamp and demanded a setting that would keep it from dying under your hands. The delay had been eating at me for days. “Finally,” Rachel breathed, almost reverent. Jenny was suddenly a tornado. “Okay, team,” she said, eyes bright. “We have to show the magazine something clean. We have to prepare a press kit, some BTS shots, quotes, Celeste, they want you and Grace on the cover.” Grace straightened visibly, smoothing her jacket. “We’ll do the interview, on Monday, yes?” “Monday,” I said, although my heart refused to sit still.

"It looks familiar, but I can't place where we got it." Jette's gaze fixated on the intricate design—a subtle pattern etched onto the worn leather. It wasn't the content of the journal that unsettled her; it was the uncanny resemblance of the cover to the haunting images from her recurring nightmare—the Book of Curse. In her dreams, the book was a harbinger of ominous events, its pages unfolding a narrative of darkness that seemed to cast a shadow over their lives. The revelation of the old journal mirroring the imagery of her nightmares sent a ripple of disquiet through Jette's thoughts.

I moved through three rows before I found the bloodline section that was titled - Lunae. I ran my fingers over spines until one shelf shifted strangely when I touched it. I frowned and pressed harder. When I did, I heard a soft click. Part of the wood slid inward. My breath caught with shock. It was a hidden compartment. Inside the compartment, I saw a leather journal wrapped in cloth. I pulled it out. The journal was bound in dark leather. When I turned it over in my hands, there was nothing on the cover. There was no title, no name but the leather had a crest that I recognized immediately.

He shifted on the bed and began to unbutton my pajama top, placing a sensual kiss on my skin with each one he undid. Just as he reached the final button, I took a deep breath and held it. My body was riddled with scars from the accident and multiple surgeries. I'd had more stitches and staples than any one person should, and those battle wounds had left marks that appeared angry and painful. They were far from beautiful, and my body was nowhere near perfect.

I told him, with the precision of someone who had been thinking about this since long before the first board meeting, exactly what I intended to build and why. He wrote for a long time after that answer. Desta caught the moment — I saw it later, in the final selection, the image of me mid-sentence with Philip's pen moving across his notebook and the Detroit skyline behind me and the specific expression on my face that was not quite a smile but contained something a smile was made of. That was the image they used for the cover. The issue published on a Friday.

Just his hands, careful and warm, and the fire burning low across the room, and two people who had been moving toward each other for weeks finally arriving somewhere honest. Afterward, his breathing evened out and his arms relaxed around me, still holding but loose now, the way people hold things in sleep. I stayed awake, and I lay there with his arm across my waist and stared at the ceiling and listened to the house settle. One of the journals had slid off the couch cushion onto the floor beside me. I reached down quietly and picked it up. It fell open to the inside cover. There was a drawing there, an old ink, with careful lines. A girl with golden eyes and tribal marks running up her neck

He was a mountain of muscle and corporate authority, his dark eyes fixed entirely on his wife as they approached the center of the set. "Mr. Wolfe, Mrs. Wolfe, it is an absolute honor," the editor-in-chief said, stepping forward with an extended hand, his voice trembling slightly. "The cover story is already breaking records on the pre-order metrics. The title of the issue is 'The New Dynasts: Inside the Wolfe-Hart Sovereign Alignment.'"

Leto: the code is 3-1-2. Hurriedly, I input the code and the door of the study unlocks. It’s a bit dusty which means that the staff doesn’t even clean this place at all, there are tons of bookshelves, glass containers that store what I think are heirlooms. I approach the table carefully, there’s a red leather journal on it. It’s almost like someone deliberately planted it there for me to see. Carefully, I pick it up and flip the pages, two old newspapers fall onto the table.