Leather Bound Dracula Book Novels & Stories

I blot the ink, then lay my palm flat on the vellum, feeling the embossing bite back. There is one more piece. A name you think I would avoid but which I know how to use with gloves: Vlad. The blood stirs not at the syllable but at the story which is to say, at power that writes itself into men’s mouths until they can’t tell if they fear or worship. Vlad is a brand the night sells to children. Drăculești is a covenant the blood remembers whether or not the church rewrites the book.

"If you find out anything...interesting, don't hesitate to report back to me. I'll take care of the rest." Weston nodded, his face grim. "Yes, master. I understand." As Duncan sat in his dark, dimly lit library, surrounded by shelves of ancient tomes and mysterious artifacts, he opened the usual special book. The book was bound in black leather, adorned with strange symbols and markings that seemed to shift and writhe in the flickering candlelight.

He moved between shelves, his eyes taking in every inch of the place. How he would have loved to take some scrolls and go through them, but something told him nothing would prove as important as whatever the water Grimoire was leading him to. As he approached the far end of the room, he saw a brown leather-bound book sitting on a tall stone pavement. The book gave off a brown glow, and it was vibrating as fast as the water Grimoire, giving off an energy that was... similar to the aura of an earth wolf. Alpha Killian smirked.

With a soft sigh, Aldric breaks away from me and excuses himself with a, “I’ll be right back.” I take the time to go through the closet in search of a leggings or jeans, anything that’s not a dress. “I told you to make a list,” Aldric says behind me. “I haven’t had time, yet, have I?” I turn away from the wardrobe to look at him. “Why can’t I hear you coming?” “I’m stealthy.” He holds up a big book. “Our bible.” “Vampires have a bible?” “Yes. We call it The Book. This one is translated into English and is somewhat incomplete, but it gets to the gist of things.” He sits on the couch and pats the seat next to him.

Then we shrugged. “Bro, you're tripping.” “How the hell can a book smell like jasmine and lemon lime?” Caden thrust the book toward Draven. “Smell it.” Draven reluctantly took it. He sniffed. Then frowned. “I don't smell anything.” He handed it back. “It smells musky. Like a book. An old-ass book.” Caden immediately took it back and sniffed it deeply. His wolf started coming closer to the surface. I looked between my brother and Caden.

“It’s not.” There was a beat. Then another. When she didn’t continue, I scowled. “What are you not telling me?” Nora bit the inside of her cheek, like she was measuring how much she could get away with sharing with me. Then she dug around in her satchel before pulling out an old, leather-bound book. The binding was worn and cracking, and the cover was faded with the crest of House Aurelian. She opened it carefully and turned the pages with a brittle whisper before pausing.

Zelena. I opened my eyes slowly. The sun was already shining brightly through the window. I reached my arm behind me and felt around the bed. I sat up quickly and looked around the room. Gunner wasn’t there. I took a deep breath and yawned stretching my arms out. Wait, my chest didn’t hurt. I twisted my back from side to side waving my arms in the air, my ribs didn’t hurt at all. I got up from the bed and walked around the room, still no pain. I noticed the bookshelf and decided to take a look. There were so many books, some with older worn covers and others newer looking. I picked up a small red book and read the cover ‘A Lycanthropy Reader; WEREWOLVES IN WESTERN CULTURE’. I flicked through

Ava carefully placed the book in front of her. Leana didn’t touch it immediately. Instead she studied the symbols carved into the cover. Her expression slowly shifted from curiosity to something more serious. “Where did you find this?” Draven answered calmly. “It belonged to a witch bloodline connected to the Blood Moon curse.” Leana finally touched the book. The moment her fingers brushed the cover, the air in the room seemed to shift slightly. “Older than I thought,” she murmured. Cassian leaned against the far wall, arms crossed.

I got up from the bed and walked around the room, still no pain, how weird. I noticed the bookshelf and decided to take a look. There were so many books, some with older worn covers and others a bit more newer looking. I picked up a small red book and read the cover ‘A Lycanthropy Reader; WEREWOLVES IN WESTERN CULTURE’. I flicked through the pages and put it back on the shelf, a little too intense for some early morning reading. I picked up another one and read the cover, ‘The Garden of Eden’ by Ernest Hemingway. Not what I expected from a teenage werewolf soon-to-be-Alpha. I put it back and my eyes fell on a really older looking book. I pulled it out and it was big and very heavy. It looked

The books here were faintly covered in dust. As he reached out to the top shelf, his eyes fell on a familiar thick black book lying on the floor. The Art Of The Body. Before he could stop himself, his eyes flicked up and locked with Scarlett. She didn't look away, but a deep blush gradually spread across her cheeks. That book brought back memories, and for a moment, he forgot the unspoken tension between them. He looked away finally and pulled out several dusty books from the shelf. Two were about old werewolves, one about vampires, and the last one was about witches.