The Whorehouse Oracle (6 page)

After watching Tyron for a
moment, Khal’s gaze drifted to the other one, the male who’d come
to fetch Tyron.
Smythe.
He was almost as handsome as Tyron, his body
wider and more heavily muscled. He also moved with the same quick,
assured manners, although his motions weren’t quite as fluid as
Tyron’s. Smythe looked up and caught Khal’s stare, a smile hitching
on his lips after a moment before disappearing as he quickly went
back to work. But the smile had done its damage, doing exactly what
Smythe had more than likely intended. More heat flooded Khal’s
already overstimulated body. In one glance, Smythe had conveyed his
desire and made Khal’s body stand up and take notice.

But then, they were a triad.
Kannomites were the only shifters who adhered to the old ways. The
three would fight together, share their lives, and … probably share
their lovers as well. Triads had fallen away many centuries before
in shifter culture, but the warriors kept their old traditions
close. Khal wondered what other ceremonies the triad still
participated in. Did they still believe in fated mates?

Prince Agarri had been a mate. Khal
had seen that in his vision. The jealousy bloomed fresh as his
thoughts drifted to the males who’d taken him away just a week
before. Need bloomed in his chest, too. Here he stood, amongst a
triad of strong males. He’d seen visions of them for months. Were
they to be his?

Of course not. I was a
whore, used and abused. They may want to slake their lusts in my
body, but they wouldn’t want me for more.
Frustration filled Khal as the truth settled in.

He looked to the last of the triad.
This male wasn’t handsome, not in the traditional terms one
considered handsome, but that could’ve been more for the frown
wrinkling his face. Deeply focused, he almost scowled. His eyes
were small, his nose a little too large, and there was a scar
running down one side of his face, the skin there slightly mottled
and a darker blue. Yet there was still something quite captivating
about the male. His aura was strong, the look of him
fierce.

Artim.

The whispered name brought goose bumps
to Khal’s flesh. There was a pain Khal sensed surrounding Artim.
The male looked up, apparently detecting Khal’s gaze on him, and
his eyes flashed with something undefinable. It was a mix of
emotions that roiled through the male so rapidly; Khal couldn’t
decipher them quickly enough. Artim looked away hastily, focused on
his work.

“
It’s a Xakarrian
freighter, not a warship,” Tyron said.

Artim looked up again, recapturing
Khal’s gaze. He began to speak, but it wasn’t directed at Khal.
“The freighter is outpacing us and has more weapons than we do.
Even if they’re only a freighter, they pose a danger. We’ve got to
find somewhere to hide. This ship isn’t equipped with the defenses
we need to fight, or the speed to get away.”

“
There are three Class C
moons nearby. Neither of them loyal to the Xakarrians,” Smythe
added. “One is Hanna Minor.”

“
Plot a course, Smythe.
Once we get on the surface, we can hopefully find our hiding
place.” Tyron looked over his shoulder at Khal. “We’ll be fine.
Don’t worry.”

Khal hadn’t been worried. When Tyron
told him not to, he wondered if he should. “What will
happen?”

Tyron rose from his seat. “We’ll lie
low for a few hours and go offline, powering down. Once the ship
has had time to pass by with plenty of distance, we’ll get going
again.”

Within moments, their ship had cleared
the atmosphere on the small moon and they were gliding along the
surface, looking for somewhere to hide. Khal watched the beautiful
landscape outside the ship, completely enamored. This was his first
time off his home world, and he delighted in the sights around him.
Everything he saw was so bright, so alive. Khal had never seen
anything like it. He’d grown up in the dingy city, surrounded by
buildings and people.

Khal took a step forward, completely
transfixed by the beauty he was witnessing.

“
What’s wrong, Khal?”
Tyron asked, breaking the spell.

Khal turned to him, confused.
“Nothing’s wrong. It’s all just … so beautiful.”

Tyron frowned. “You’ve never been
off-world, have you?”

Khal shook his head, unable to look
away from the visions before him.

“
Once we stop, we’ll let
you explore a little,” Tyron said.

“
We have no time, Tyron,”
Artim admonished, his brow growing angrier with his
frown.

“
We have to wait out the
ship. A little exploration won’t hurt. We won’t go far from the
ship,” Tyron argued.

Artim grumbled under his breath. “It’s
a mistake.”

Khal didn’t want to get between the
two males and make them argue, although Khal sensed they battled
often. “I don’t want to cause trouble. We don’t have to leave the
ship.”

“
Don’t be ridiculous,”
Smythe replied. “Artim is our worrier. Don’t mind him.”

Tyron pointed to a large copse of what
had to be trees. “There. We’ll hide there.”

Smythe hit a few buttons on his
terminal and the ship veered to the left before settling amongst
the gigantic plants. Once the ship was powered down, Tyron took
Khal’s hand. “Artim, I assume you’ll remain here and not join us on
our mistake?”

“
You assume correctly,”
Artim said. “Someone has to be the responsible one.”

Tyron shook his head and wandered to
the back of the ship, pushing down on a large lever to release an
escape hatch. Tyron jumped down the few feet to the ground and
lifted his hands to Khal.

“
It’s safe out there? To
breathe?” Khal asked.

Tyron chuckled. “Yes. I wouldn’t be
out here myself if it wasn’t. We’ve been to this moon before, and
it’s quite lovely.”

Khal took the helping hand and leapt
down beside Tyron. A moment later and Smythe joined
them.

“
We haven’t been on Hanna
Minor in ages,” Smythe said as he stretched and took in a deep
breath. “Last one to the waterfall is a Skelaxian
Menite!”

Smythe took off at a quick run, as
Tyron looked on.

“
We promised Artim we
wouldn’t go far!” Tyron yelled.

Smythe paused a second and turned to
grin over his shoulder. “The waterfall isn’t far.”

Tyron cursed under his breath and then
grasped Khal’s hand. “Come on, then, let’s go before he gets
himself in trouble.”

Khal was dragged behind Tyron through
the near waist high pale purple grasses as he looked above at the
dark, starry sky. A warm breeze washed over his body and a smile
came to his face. It felt so light-hearted and free to run, the
wind in his hair and hitting him in the face. Khal hadn’t felt that
light of spirit since the invasion had robbed them all of their
freedom. He wasn’t sure he’d ever get off Xhythria, and now here he
was, rushing over the surface of an alien moon, tugged behind the
most handsome male he’d witnessed.

A laugh bubbled up in his throat and
it escaped, carried on the wind. Khal couldn’t remember the last
time he’d really laughed. He couldn’t remember feeling any
happiness. Even before the invasion, his life had been hard. But
now, all that washed away, and he could live in the moment, simply
enjoying himself without the burdens of the world on his
shoulders.

Soon they came to a large outcropping
of rocks. Smythe had already ducked into an opening and disappeared
inside. Tyron followed his triad brother in, tugging Khal in behind
him. The cave was dark and Khal stumbled a few times, focusing on a
light at the end of what appeared to be a natural
corridor.

When they came to the end, the
passageway opened to a large cavern. A pool of water filled the
space, if that was what it was. A waterfall cascaded down one side
of the rock wall and ended in the pool. All the liquid glowed with
some kind of light, making it luminescent and lighting the space
around them quite brightly.

Smythe was already at the side of the
pool disrobing. Khal froze as he watched the handsome male’s body
appearing as he removed his tunic, his cloak already on the ground.
His chest was massive, a wall of heavily muscled flesh. The light
coming from the water illuminated his chiseled abs and cast heavy
shadows, rippling over Smythe’s body and making the muscles stand
out even more.

Heat flooded Khal’s body as he noted
every inch of Smythe’s form. Smythe began to tug at the laces of
his pants, a smile coming to his face.

“
You like what you see,
Khal?” Smythe asked, a wicked glint to his eyes.

“
Never one for being
humble, this one.” Tyron chuckled as he glanced at Khal and then
started removing his own clothes. “Smythe, you’re infatuated with
yourself.”

Smythe dropped his pants, exposing his
glorious cock. Khal’s mouth watered as soon as he saw the thickly
veined length, the girth enough to overfill Khal’s hand. He licked
his lips as he watched Smythe grasp the root of his shaft and rub
his hand down to the tip. The slightly hardened cock wept a single
pearl of fluid, which Smythe spread over the fat, plum
head.

“
No, I’d say the male is
as hungry for me as I am for him,” Smythe said, his voice
deepening.

Khal was hungry. Starving. He couldn’t
take his gaze off the luscious cock before him. Khal had been used
by so many, and he’d never wanted any of them. His breathing
labored, he felt want for only the second time in his
life.

The first had been earlier in the
cabin with Tyron.

Tyron.

Khal glanced to his right and saw
Tyron was now nude as well, his body even more sculpted than
Smythe’s. Tyron was slightly leaner, though, taller and more
overwhelming. And Khal wanted him with the same fierceness he
wanted Smythe, if not more.

“
Are you going to get in
the water?” Tyron asked, the water’s light dancing in his
eyes.

Khal nodded his head, unable to speak.
His heart pounded in his ears. He was positive he was going to pass
out if he couldn’t get control over his body. He wasn’t a virgin,
far from it, but he stood there gawking at them like he’d never
seen a cock before. But then, he’d never been taken as a male, so
in a way, this was a first for him.

Not being expected to shift into
feminine form, he felt freed. He could experience the desire from
his natural body. Khal had touched himself before, but masturbating
was nothing like the caress of a lover’s hand on his
flesh.

He’d never seen a cock he wanted
before. Now he observed two.

“
Are you going to take off
your clothes before you get in the water?” Tyron asked.

Khal’s body blossomed with warmth and
his clothes needed to come off. His hands pulled at his tunic,
disengaged from his mind and his eyes. He clumsily removed piece
after piece, feeling as adept as a toddler learning to dress
himself.

Smythe waded into the pool, a sigh of
ecstasy escaping his lips. “It’s still warm. I expected it to be
cooler this time of year.”

A tremor ran up Khal’s spine at the
sound of that sigh. He wondered if Smythe would sound the same when
he was in the throes of passion. Khal shook his head, amazed at how
singular his thoughts were.

“
It feels really nice,
Khal. Hurry in,” Smythe called.

Khal’s hands worked double-time as he
tried to get the last remnants off. When he was naked, he followed
Tyron into the glowing water, the warmth of the liquid making Khal
immediately relax. He waded in until the water was chest high and
then slipped under the surface to wash his face.

As he came back up, he saw both of the
males staring at him with what looked to be the same want Khal had
felt for them both in their eyes. It only made Khal even harder. He
reached down between his legs and stroked his cock, unable to
resist touching himself. Both Smythe’s and Tyron’s gazes followed
his hand, their eyes heating more.

“
I can help you with
that,” Smythe said as he swam closer to Khal.

Before Khal could say one way or
another, the male was on him, pushing his hand away and replacing
it. Khal melted against Smythe, the feel of his hand too good.
Tyron stepped closer and caught Khal’s stare.

“
Smythe, don’t push. He
deserves to be asked if he wants your touch.”

Smythe’s hand slowed, but didn’t stop
completely. A question formed on his face as he looked down at
Khal, his stare taking in everything he saw. “Do you want me to
stop, Khal?”

The denial was on Khal’s lips, but he
struggled to speak it. Although he knew Tyron was probably right
and they should stop, it didn’t change the fact that he wanted
their hands on him. He wanted their caresses to wash away all the
other touches he’d never wanted on his flesh. He needed them to
want him, for him, not because they were paying for sex. Perhaps
they needed him for what he could give them. Perhaps they were
seducing his body so they’d control his mind. None of it mattered.
He didn’t care in that moment; the need was the only thing filling
him.