Read The Whorehouse Oracle for Free Online Page B

control, he didn’t know if he could trust
himself.
    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