Leather Book Cover Novels & Stories

“Let’s crack open that one.” “Fine,” August says, handing the book over to me with a slight shudder. I open it, not enjoying the feel of the Human leather and the fact that it’s very close to animal leather. “Gods, I hope that’s in there. Because I can’t bring myself to look for more.”

There’s a soft thud, and the drawer on the nightstand pops out. Inside the drawer is a book with black bindings, along with a pen. There’s nothing else in the drawer, not even a picture. I pull the book out, turning it over in my hands. The cover is cool and leather. I’m sure it’s a journal of some sort, and I’m almost tempted to put it back, unread.

Others were modern thrillers and contemporary fiction, their glossy jackets still vibrant. But then she came to a section that felt...different. These books weren’t stacked like the others. They were nestled into the shelves like treasures, rich, cracked leather covers, some with gold foiling so worn it was barely legible. Her hand paused over one that read, The History of the Black Moon Pack. Her brows knit. “Pack?” she murmured under her breath, pulling it from the shelf.

My eyes widened with anticipation, but inside, I found only a thick, leather-bound book. The cover was faded and worn, with the strange symbol embossed on it; a triangle with three circles inside. I ran my fingers over the symbol, a chill creeping up my spine. I had no idea what it meant, but it seemed significant, almost sacred. With hands that trembled, I lifted the book from the chest. The pages were thick and yellowed, and an old, musky smell filled the air as I carefully opened it.

The first thing I noticed was the notebook. Soft leather. Ivory-colored. Elegant but simple. My fingers brushed across the cover, and my heart skipped when I saw the gold foil lettering pressed perfectly into the surface. A.D. My initials. How were they able to do that! I slowly opened it, running my thumb along the thick cream pages. The paper felt expensive…smooth, almost silky. The kind of notebook you wouldn’t want to ruin with messy sketches. The kind that made you want to draw something worthy of it.

It looked ancient. I didn't realise I was crying until I felt the warmth on my face. I reached out and pulled the book closer and ran my hand across the back cover. The leather was rough under my fingers, dry and cracked in the way of something very old that had been handled carefully enough to survive anyway. I opened it carefully.

Leather-bound books with worn spines and faded gold lettering. I forgot my anger for a moment.I reached toward one.Then stopped.I didn't want to give Jaxson the satisfaction of seeing how much this affected me.The butler noticed.“Would you like me to take them away?”My hand moved before I could stop it.“No.”He stepped back.I carefully picked up the smallest book.The leather was cracked from age.The pages were yellowed, but the binding was still strong.

Took the stairs two at a time, her key in hand, to get home, toss aside her bag, shrug off her coat, slide off her shoes and, after a deep breath, dive deep into this mysterious treasure. Sitting on the floor, her back against the couch, she began, those words And so it ends . . . intriguing and delighting her. Closing the book, she studied the cover. It was newer than those she’d seen in the front of the store. The leather was pale and thick. Italian, maybe. She wondered if it was expensive. She pulled close. Studied how smooth it was. Pressed her nose to the spine and inhaled deep. Couldn’t place the smell, the scent perhaps more oil than leather. Found herself brushing her lips over the f

There was something inside her that was asking her to grab the book and read it – and she did. It was placed on the third shelf from the floor. It actually caught her attention, for it was not in line with the other books – it was slightly protruding from the shelf. The book’s cover was made of leather – she was so astounded. It was a little bit heavier and bigger in size than a normal book.

She wandered up to one of the shelves and ran her fingers across the books worn spines; they smelled of dust and age. The books looked essential and historical. Nueva pulled a brow leather book from its neat row. The front cover had beautifully intricate designs etched into the aged skin, and a thin leather string locked the book's covers. She gently untied the knot and flicked through the aged yellow pages; Eira stirred inside her head. Nueva couldn't understand the language; it looked complicated and old, but the hand-drawn pictures drew her in.