While still holding the book, Julian pulled her to his bed. She could sense he wanted more from her, but she just wanted to sit there with him. She sat in the center of his bed and crossed her legs with the book sitting in the middle. It brought such relief to be in possession of the grimoire. Her grimoire. The history in this book was irreplaceable.
Julian sat in front of her and placed his hand on top of hers, on top of the book. She continued to stare down at her lap.
‘The book is made from the skin of werewolves.’ She looked up, staring into his eyes to gauge his feelings about it. He wasn’t angry but concerned.
‘The wolves were not killed by witches to make the book. They were wolves who died in service to the first Moon Witch. They offered their skins to her after death. The skin
