Tugs Books Novels & Stories

What was her niece thinking? Elsa’s worried frown shifted to a look of hope and she quickly scurried back into the house. Her mother had presented an ancient book of sacred spells and incantations to her just before her passing. She was certain the solution would be within the pages of that book. She’d never really taken the time to look through the book in its entirety. She had enough resources for the work that she was called upon to do, so she didn’t need the book for that. Since time was a precious commodity and something that she’d prefer to spend away from the world of the occult, she’d tucked the book away for safe keeping. She did, however, recall glancing at a section about vampi

He sat heavily on the very edge of the leather, his large frame never truly relaxing. No, relaxation seemed to be an entirely foreign concept to their species. They sat with a rigid, tightly coiled alertness, as if some invisible urgency was pressing hard against their spines, keeping them seconds away from having to flee or fight. “So, who exactly are you people?” I asked, crossing my legs elegantly at the ankle. “And what can I possibly do for you today?” “We are the TUGs…” the leader began, adjusting his posture. “I’m not sure if you have heard of our organization in your high-class circles, but—”

Bruce pushed me back into the shadows and stood tall, looking directly into Doru’s fiery-red eyes. “Allow me to introduce myself,” he said with vehement confidence. “My name is Bruce Jameson Tugur. I too am of pure lineage. You see, when my family came to America they shortened our family name from Tugurlan to Tugur. I’m the direct descent of General Stefan Tugurlan who fought for King Mathias. Does that name ring any bells?”

"The more you pull away from me, the more determined I'm to pull you towards me." "How flattering." She grimaced. "The little boy wants to play tug of war with me." "I don't understand you!" He suddenly burst out. "I'm already offering you something you won't get from anyone and probably you won't have for the rest of your life but still have to guts to turn it down, to turn me down." "Now that's exactly why I don't want to accept your offer." She snapped back. "You're so full of yourself. You think everyone's willing to bow down in front of you and kiss your shiny shoes in worship. You're so pathetic."

she asked. “He’s from Wadim’s den,” I replied with disgust. “Damn, I thought they were all dead.” “Apparently not,” Garth interjected as he walked up on the other side of me. “Who is Wadim?” “Was,” I emphasized. “He was a twisted son-of-a-bitch who dealt in human trafficking and cannibalism. Rumor had it he was the bastard son of Dracula.” Garth nodded. “I see,” he said. He looked at Magdalena and said, “So the rumors are true?”

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