Three Little Words
Order of the Dragon Series
Tina Glasneck
THREE LITTLE WORDS © 2020 Tina Glasneck
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Copyright notice: All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $ 250,000.
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ASCB-19JAN2021a
Contents
Blurb
Epigraph
Prologue
Chapter 1
Alistair
Chapter 2
Leslie
Chapter 3
Alistair
Chapter 4
Leslie
Chapter 5
Alistair
Chapter 6
Leslie
Chapter 7
Leslie
Chapter 8
Alistair
Chapter 9
Alistair
Chapter 10
Leslie
Chapter 11
Leslie
Chapter 12
Alistair
Chapter 13
Leslie
Chapter 14
Alistair
Chapter 15
Leslie
Chapter 16
Leslie
Chapter 17
Alistair
Chapter 18
Leslie
Chapter 19
Leslie
Chapter 20
Leslie
Chapter 21
Alistair
Chapter 22
Leslie
Chapter 23
Leslie
Chapter 24
Leslie
Chapter 25
Alistair
Epilogue
Want a Bonus Scene?
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Tina Glasneck
Blurb
Evil stalks the supernatural world, and it’s right behind her...
Vampire seer, Leslie Love, has found a new normal living in the hidden paranormal world—training with the Order, drinking fish juice (blech), and dancing the forever tango of ‘Are they together or aren’t they?’ with her sire and fated mate Alistair Macleod. Seems like things are looking up...
...But when Leslie is attacked with a magical knife on the streets of New York, she learns that a dangerous evil has come out to play.
And it’s looking for supernaturals just like her. Preying on their magic, ripping them right off the streets of Manhattan, and catapulting Leslie to a new level of WTF terror.
When a surprising new ally comes to her aid—Dracula himself—with an offer she might not be able to refuse, will she be willing to risk it all to help save her community, or is she one staking away from death’s eternal hold?
Drink up, Buttercup! We’re in for one dangerous ride!
Readers who enjoy the paranormal, supernatural, and mythological creatures, such as vampires, were-shifters, dragon shifters, and ghosts-- as well as slow-burn paranormal romance-- will get a kick out of this magical adventure.
Fall into this fangtastic series in Tina Glasneck’s new take on vampire lore with Three Little Words!
Epigraph
In the heat of the night, cool minds prevail.
– Dreki Edda, Provision MMXX
Prologue
Brock grinned like only a wolf-shifter could, chasing the beautiful women—hares, as they were referred to in his world—who liked to play with the supernaturals.
In the tunnels beneath the city, something sinister churned. Brock followed the three giggling women who beckoned him to continue. They climbed ever deeper into what seemed like a darkened abyss, a strange place for a wolf-shifter to be prowling.
After three nights of sexy fun, Brock trailed his new playmates to their destination. Opal, the violet-haired bedmate he practically thirsted for, led the way with the two women she called sisters behind her. He didn’t know her real name, but the nickname seemed to fit her.
Tonight’s destination was also a surprise. Who knew cosplay and medieval capes could be so alluring?
“I hear the underworld, master.” Opal toyed with the ties on her cape, leaving him wondering what she had planned.
They continued forward as the women shone their flashlights along the tunnel walls.
Opal then placed her index finger to her lips; everyone nodded their understanding.
They moved forward, following Opal’s steadfast gait. While remaining silent, they meandered through the maze, ignoring the scurrying rats, the water runoff, and the ever-resounding subway cars that raced overhead.
Finally, after walking through the labyrinth of tunnels, they exited out onto the land. Tall cellphone towers decorated the landscape.
“Just as I promised, my liege.” The tunnels exited out into what must have been a nearby ventilation shaft.
Brock inhaled the fresh air, a refreshing change from the city. He took in his surroundings, noting an old abandoned power plant mere feet away.
Opal took his hand, and a shiver zinged and zipped. She was amazing.
“Come, don’t you want to play?” Opal asked.
Finally, cracking the door open, there was nothing about this place that screamed “sex dungeon.”
“We are almost there,” Opal reassured him.
“Your sisters don’t seem to talk much.”
“I’m sure they are planning all the decadence of what we shall do.”
Passing over the elevated metal gates, traversing the stairs, to only then descend further into the bowels of the plant, Brock was close to turning around. This was a long way from his normal routine and place, just for a piece or three.
Opal ran a finger along the length of his arm. “I want you so much, Brocky-boo. Don’t disappoint me.”
He leaned into the air and could smell her arousal.
His feet landed on a stone floor, and Opal turned to him with a sexy smile. “We are here, my love.”
Where was here? Brock glanced around the room, and the sisters moved to the corners, lighting large torches that lit up with the slight bit of a flame. The aroma of burnt sage wafted.
“Disrobe,” sister two commanded, and for a moment, he thought he saw Opal’s smile falter.
“No, dear sister, I am in command.” She turned her attention back to him. “But, Sister is correct. Disrobe and rest on the place we shall baptize.”
Brock practically leaped out of his clothes and rubbed his hands together in glee. He pushed away the small nagging voice in his mind.
A fire blazed in the center of the room, providing heat, and easing his fears away.
He quickly exhaled and eased onto the slab.
The stone temple’s chamber was aglow from the lit torches, and the three cloaked women moved around the space, while he rested on the cool slab.
“You talked about some polyamorous games, but I didn’t know you meant this,” Brock joked, raising his now-handcuffed wrists, his ankles in shackles. He laid there nude, in all of his glory and ready for action.
“Do yo
u not like the pleasure we provide?” asked the one he recognized as Opal. She slid out of her cape and he licked his lips, enjoying the sight of her nakedness.
One of the sisters, still with her head bowed, moved to his side and poured the warm herb-infused oil onto his naked chest.
Brock looked to his left and then his right. “Which one of you will be riding the beast this time?” he asked. Time here in the labyrinth meant only a couple of things for him. On his days off from driving his yellow cab around town, he got to meet up with the Ladies of the Iron Hand, as they called themselves.
It must have been an underground sex cult or club. But tonight’s session was quite different. They’d not found him to pull him into the shadows, but instead insisted on his following them to a place where there would be no limits, no temptation. In comparison, the pack’s club was tame when it came to meeting hot women like this: hot-blooded women who enjoyed being nipped. They didn’t mind his touch, stamina, or possessiveness.
Yeah, women could learn a lot from Opal and her group.
Opal nodded to the other two sisters, and they, too, disrobed.
“Tokoloshe,” they sang in unison. Opal then placed a green glowing amulet around his neck to then allow her hands to glide over his muscles, her nails scraping against him, causing a shiver to roll across his body. Nerve endings tingled, and he grew ever happier about where this was leading.
“Brock, you are a strong wolf, yes?” Opal raised a brow in question.
“Of course, doll.”
They continued to say just that one word: tokoloshe.
“What does that mean?” he asked. “Tokoloshe.”
The second sister sprinkled an herb into a bowl, pressing the pestle down. Even with his wolf-like hearing, he couldn’t catch all of her words. They all had names, he knew, but it was easier to refer to them as sister two and sister three. He truly only had eyes for Opal, who teased him with her touch and unspoken promises.
“That is not what you should focus on, but instead focus on what you desire and how you desire me.” She smiled seductively, licking her lip, and giving a small promising sigh. “Do you think that you are a good wolf or one to be punished?” Opal asked, continuing her stroking.
He was ready enough to pop, all thoughts of tokoloshe—who, what, when, and where—were gone.
“It all depends on how you wish to punish me.” With his all-American charm, he winked and waited for her to straddle him. The waiting was becoming painful. Of course, he wasn’t one to turn down foreplay, but not much play was to be had by remaining locked in this position. His desire mixed with an inkling that all was not right.
Opal’s sister moved closer to him, clenching one of the fiery torches in her hand.
“Whoa, that’s hot. Doesn’t she understand me?” Brock turned to Opal, who finally climbed on top of him. Her wet folds embraced him, and he longed for nothing more than to be able to hold her steady, to make sure the pleasure never ended.
Opal, without care, threw her head back, writhing against him. Her moans echoed off the walls. She was in full control.
“That’s it, doll.”
The third sister moved to Opal’s side with the bowl, and Opal stuck her index finger into the crushed powder, smeared it over her face, then along her neck and down between her heaving breasts.
“It is said that to make room for the light, we must first be rid of the darkness,” Opal whispered, taking an emerald green and silver athame in her hand.
Brock stared at it and struggled against her, his chains rattling.
Then the sisters began to chant, and each of them placed the black ash on their faces.
“You are an abomination, dear Brock, and must be put down.”
With the ceremonial knife wedged between her hands, and a powerful thrust, she stabbed downward, piercing his heart, paralyzing him.
Unshackling him, together, the three women worked, finishing the holy ceremony. They wrapped him tightly in the scraps of blessed linen.
Brock’s lessening howl serenaded the women as they worked, continuing their chanting: “Blood of derision, we summon thee. The world overflows with monsters, unnatural abominations.”
Before his face was covered, he thought he saw a shadow of a goblin form on the floor, and a tall, masked man moved forward and kissed Opal on the head.
“Tokoloshe, come,” Opal finally ordered, and Brock felt his body convulse.
Who were these women, and what was to become of him?
Chapter 1
Alistair
Charming Industries, Manhattan, New York
Alistair’s nose was knee-deep in a romance novel on his e-Reader, and not just any novel. Leslie Love’s latest Highlander novel had him intrigued. How much of himself would he find?
A part of him might have felt a little guilty about this secret, but the greatest way to understand a woman, especially an author, was to read their books, maybe even find out what they liked about particular handsome, Scottish heroes.
He smiled at the thought, because everything he read said that Leslie would like nothing more than to be swept off of her feet, and he wasn’t quite sure how that was done.
That was only one part of the problem—the other part was his penchant for finding sticky situations, and that included his ex-girlfriend, Rose.
“Alistair, are you listening?” Freyja said, staring out the massive floor-to-ceiling window.
Alistair picked up his coffee mug and took another deep gulp, shoving the novel into his desk to pay attention to his grandmother. In his ultra-sleek office overlooking Manhattan in Charming Industries Skyscraper, he mulled over his schedule. The room was fit for a king, with bulletproof glass and an eagle-eye view.
“Your plan is a dangerous one,” Alistair said, “The rogues continue in their pursuit, and it appears that despite the last skirmish, they are attempting to gain new blood. You must respond more forcefully against their assault, with enough intensity to keep other rabble-rousers from attempting to thwart the Order’s power.”
On this floor, only those of a particular security clearance could enter. It was warded against normal magic—the sort of parlor tricks and entry-level sorcery beginner sorcerers might be able to pull off.
All of Charming Industries stood available for his use. Alistair was smart enough to know that the battle wasn’t over between the rogue vampires and the Order.
“If I am to be here in New York,” he confirmed, “I also need to take care of the Order’s business, and that means meeting with those who’ve been seeking my audience. It is not every day that I can directly assist.”
The city had been quiet, and all things were back in his control. Tauris had gone into hiding, and the Order was flourishing with new recruits entering the academies, the different houses, and even more, alliances could be made.
Yet, he had to stay vigilant. Only a couple of weeks ago had the rogue vampires taken a major hit with the defeat and death of their leader, Ragnar. He knew it to be true—their rebellion was like a hydra. Just because Ragnar was no more, didn’t mean that the rogues had gone, tucked their tails, and hidden away. Instead, like an infestation, they sought out a weakness to attack when least expected.
“I’m keeping an eye on everything, and helping Beau bring in the new pups.”
“That is not what I reference, but instead, you’re using Leslie as bait,” Freyja chastized.
Alistair took a long drink of his coffee. They’d spent the last couple of weeks trying to flush out those who meant Leslie harm. The rogue vampires had gone underground, his dragon brother perished, and a new threat would be coming. They’d entered into the first part of terrorism, guerilla warfare, and it was his job to keep the supernatural world safe.
“It took a lot of magic and money to clean up the mess from the attack.”
“Yes, and many of those who perished now sit in the great halls of Asgard. Death is something we all must do and deal with, but you cannot place her in danger, grandson.”
“If you are so worried about Leslie and what I do, why not have some of your Valkyrie watch over her? My hands are full in keeping war at bay.”
Freyja whipped around and crossed her arms. “Do you not care for this woman, your mate? Are you implying that I am wrong about her?”
Alistair wrestled with his response. Leslie was his friend, that much he knew without a doubt, and he also knew he had feelings for her—but what sort of feelings? The pressure of fate and forever sort of put a damper on things growing. Would they grow because of the gods’ interference or because it would be something natural between them?
“It doesn’t matter,” Freyja answered for him. “She is yours, and you will see that she remains safe. You must fix these broken circles, dear boy, working in unity to protect her, even against the advice of others. She is yours, and you can always help her, and must help her.”
“I cannot help how I feel.” Everything was upside down inside. Why couldn’t it be as simple as a date, even just as Leslie would say, coffee? No, this was all about something overbearing. A future he couldn’t see, but everyone around him could.
Sure, there was something between him and Leslie, something undeniable, but with the interference of one battle after another, he wasn’t really getting a chance to find out what it was. Heck, he didn’t even know if she liked sunflowers or roses, petunias or daisies. What was her favorite color? What song made her dance without thought or resolve?
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