by Pharaoh
PHARAOH
Imari Jade
EROTIC ROMANCE
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Erotic Romance
PHARAOH
Copyright © 2010 by Imari Jade
E-book ISBN: 1-60601-818-3
First E-book Publication: July 2010
Cover design by Jinger Heaston
All cover art and logo copyright © 2010 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
PUBLISHER
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
Letter from Imari Jade
Regarding Ebook Piracy
Dear Readers,
A lot of time, energy and love went into the creation of this book.
Ebook piracy is the act of illegally downloading a book that you have no rights to and making a profit from it from a website not authorized by the book publisher. It is not only unfair to writers and publishers but also against the law.
Readers and loving fans can help by only purchasing our books directly from the publisher.
With deep gratitude,
Imari Jade
DEDICATION
To my mother, Willie Mae Bell, who encouraged my love of historical events and ancient cultures.
PHARAOH
IMARI JADE
Copyright © 2010
Prologue
Zuri watched with fascination as the funeral procession for Kemosiri I got underway. Kemosiri had died three months ago, and it took a lengthy mummification period to finally get his body ready for burial. Several servants dressed in long white gowns carried his body out and placed it on a sledge pulled by a team of oxen. A second sledge followed, carrying the canopic chest containing his, lungs, and other vital organs. Zuri and her family got in line and followed the procession as it made its way to the first destination, the road where Ra sits and then to the Necropolis in Thebes. Women cried while bald-headed priests walked solemnly alongside them, burning incense and shaking sistrums. Kemosiri’s son and new successor Khai Omar Masari or Khai I led the procession, along with the viziers of Upper and Lower Egypt, other dignitaries, and the rest of the Masari family.
Zuri lifted her eyes to get a better look at him. It had been a long time since she’d seen him at the palace. She had been eight at the time and he had been ten, and even back then, he was a force to be reckoned with, tall, silent and very handsome. His best friend, Asar, also ten, was the complete opposite. He used to tease her and pull her hair and try to kiss her. Khai came to her defense every time defending her honor against Asar. Khai had grown considerably since then. At twenty, he towered over most young men his age, six feet, five inches tall, close to two-hundred and ten pounds and most of it muscle. She supposed she could consider him handsome, but she was much too far away to tell. He stood erect in the single horse-drawn chariot wearing his white ceremonial robe. His long boyish locks were shorn short, signifying his advance to manhood.
Asar, Khai’s new vizier, rode in a chariot behind him. He too had grown tall and hard to miss, dressed all in black like a demon of the night. She hoped he would not see her, fearing that he hadn’t changed and would seek her out just to vex her nerves.
Her older sister, Nafre, nudged her gently. “What are you staring at?”
“Pharaoh.”
Nafre pinched her. “Lower your eyes before he catches you staring.”
Zuri lowered her eyes, upset at such a degrading action. By birthright, she was equal to him in station and should be accorded the same amount of respect. It wasn’t her fault she was born female or that her people lost the war, and besides, there were so many people there, he could not pick her out in the crowd. Nafre squeezed her hand as if reading her thoughts and tugged her along through the hot sand. The walk to the tomb would be long and treacherous, but she was bound and determined to make it without complaint. Zuri lifted her head just in time to see Khai order the horse to move ahead of the procession. His proud bare shoulders looked strained beneath the collar around his neck. He held up one muscular arm to beckon the others to follow him to the Valley of the Kings.
Hours passed before the procession ended. Khai dismounted the chariot and followed the old priests to the body to perform the Opening of the Mouth ceremony, a rite believed to restore the dead pharaoh’s senses as well as his use of speech and ability to eat and drink. The servants of the deceased pharaoh raised the coffin and carried it on the long journey through the newly completed pyramid. She and the other visiting dignitaries remained outside because only immediate family members and servants were allowed entry to place the body deep into the stone sarcophagus and to seal the entry. Zuri and her family left the burial site and headed back to the palace.
Chapter One
“You look bored,” Hathor said to her son as the funeral banquet commenced inside the palace.
“I am. It is not like we have not done this many times before.”
Hathor clucked at him. “A pharaoh is not buried daily. Show some respect.”
Khai was used to this type of conversation with his mother. Unlike his father, he would not be ordered about by her. “Respect has nothing to do with the way I feel. I prefer to mourn my father in my own way…in private.”
His vizier, Asar, leaned closer to him. “That is about to change. You will no longer have much privacy once you are crowned pharaoh.”
“I know that. You’ve been preparing me for the last three months. I am speaking of all these people eating and enjoying themselves at our expense.”
“They are invited guests,” Asar replied. “They are here to pay their last respects to your father, and in return, you are expected to feed them and talk to them.”
Khai rolled his eyes at Asar who’d grown up in the palace with him and had been his best friend all of his life. “You sound as bad as Bandru.” Asar had replaced Bandru as vizier.
“I should. He taught me everything I know.”
“I do not know if that is a good thing or not.”
Asar smirked. His warm brown eyes twinkled when he smiled. “Do not forget that conversation you and I had the other day.”
Kh
ai frowned. “Not that again.”
“A pharaoh must have a queen.”
“Where is that written?”
“I do not see what the problem is. You have a kingdom of beautiful women. Choose one.”
Everything seemed so easy for Asar. He did not have trouble meeting women. He had a pleasant personality, was a good scholar, and good at anything he attempted. Yet he had managed to stay single. Why was it not an option for him? “When do I have time to court?”
Being a prince had kept him pretty busy with all the games, meetings, and teachings. The only spare time he had was taken up by sleeping and an occasional swim.
“Find time.” Asar swept his hand around the room. “Look at all the beautiful women in attendance.”
Khai squinted. All of their faces were covered from the nose down, and they were too far away to see. “They all look about the same to me.”
“He’s just being difficult,” Hathor said, joining the conversation. “Maybe I should choose a suitable bride for him.”
Khai shuddered. If he let that happen he would be saddled with a wife who would nag him to death. “No thanks. I am old enough to choose for myself.”
His mother nodded. “You have until the coronation.”
Khai sighed. That was about three weeks away. How was he going to find a woman to marry by then?
The meal ended, and most of the guests prepared to leave. Chahide Bassey, the king of Upper Nubia and his wife, Samanya, walked up to pay their respects. Accompanying them were two young women, both pretty from the eyes up. Everything from the nose down hid behind a veil. Asar nudged him again. “Huh?”
Khai shrugged, looking both young women over. He sort of remembered them from long ago when they were kids. He and the older sister Nafre were the same age. She was a little too round of face, and she lowered her eyes the moment she noticed him staring. The younger one, eighteen-year-old Zuri, stared at him boldly. Her light brown eyes were brilliant with intelligence, and she kept them raised despite what she had been taught. Hmm… This one has promise and is just one year younger. She gave him a curt nod of farewell as her family moved away from the thrones. Her body moved sensually beneath the tight-fitting linen dress.
“Is something wrong?” Asar asked.
“Not that I can tell,” Khai answered absently.
Asar chuckled. “A Nubian queen? That would send tongues wagging throughout the kingdom.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Do not tell me you are not interested in her.”
“No, I am not. Did you see the way she looked at me? She’s an insolent little thing. She kept her eyes glued to mine and refused to lower them in my presence.”
“Headstrong and self-assured. You could do worse.”
“I am not interested, and you said so yourself that our people may not accept a Nubian queen. We defeated them in battle, and they are subservient to us.”
“Did you see that body? I would not mind bowing to her at night.”
Hathor shushed them. “Show some respect.”
“We’ll talk later,” Asar told him.
“Do not hold your breath.”
* * * *
His eyes were far more spectacular than she remembered, a startling blue, as blue as a summer sky. His face was handsome with smooth olive skin and high cheekbones. His thick black hair tapered neatly to his collar. An air of command exuded from him as powerful as the Nile River. She thought about him all the way to their secondary home in Thebes while talking with Nafre, who spoke not a word of him. Her father thought he would make a fine pharaoh because the old pharaoh trained him.
“Rumor has it he must choose a wife,” her mother replied as they entered their palace.
Chahide nodded. “She will probably be Egyptian. He will follow tradition.”
Zuri sighed. The new pharaoh will choose one of his own, probably one with pale white skin and tall like he. They will have beautiful Egyptian children who will be spoiled and pampered. She said goodnight to her family and walked off to her room. He wouldn’t give her the time of day with her thick black hair and oversized rear end. Like her mother and sister, she was blessed with big hips and breasts, but they were flat in the back while she had so much it shook when she walked. Try as she might she could not get rid of it.
She headed to her bedroom on the east side of the palace. Her servants stood at attention, waiting for her arrival. They escorted her inside her room and began to prepare her for bed. Two joined her in the sunken tub to wash her while a third waited with a large towel to dry her off and help her dress. One unwound her hair and brushed it until it fell down in curls on her shoulder. After the nightly ritual, they left her alone with her thoughts.
Zuri climbed into the bed and buried herself beneath the cover. Khai’s face entered her dreams as soon as she closed her eyes. He was upon his chariot at the races, and he had just defeated his challenger. His rugged body glistened with sweat under the hot sun. Sand covered his arms and bare chest. He reached for her once the race was over, pulling her against his rock-hard body. Khai lowered his head and kissed her passionately against the lips. She moaned and opened her eyes in the dark, hot room. She got out of bed, slipped out of her gown, and then crawled beneath the covers again. The sheets felt cool against her parched skin. Her breath came in shallow pants as she allowed her hands to roam across her body, around her erect nipples, and down to her vagina. Her fingers dipped, meeting wetness. She closed her eyes again and conjured up Khai’s face, moving a finger in and out of her hole until her body shook and spasmed. Her heart beat rapidly at first and calmed down as the orgasm subsided. Zuri removed her finger, sighed contently, and then went back to sleep.
* * * *
Khai looked out of the window of his palace room and wiped the sweat from his brow. The temperature still soared even though the sun had long set. He gazed out at the desert to his left. The sight was amazing under the moonlight. The last of the guests had finally gone home after a week of mourning, and his mother and sisters had retired to their suites, and Asar was in his room, hopefully alone, which did not happen very often. His younger brother, Dakari, and his army had left for the fields early, and the rest of the family was either scattered throughout the palace or had returned to their own homes. In a couple of weeks, he would be crowned pharaoh, and he was not sure he could live up to the title. Oh, he had been taught what to do over the years by viziers and his father, but inside, he did not feel that he was up to the job. A pharaoh had to be brave and strong and not waver in his duties. Before his father had fallen ill, the two of them used to have long talks about his future, and the old man used to tell the wildest stories about his growing up. He supposed that is what he was going to miss about him most of all. A lone tear escaped and ran down his cheek. Khai briskly wiped it away. The time for tears was over. He crawled into his bed. The people did not deserve a weak pharaoh, so there would be no more tears for him. The mourning period would soon be over, and he would be king.
“Zuri,” he said aloud as he thought about the Nubian princess. Is Asar correct? Is she the one? He remembered her laughing and playing with the other kids in the palace when she visited. Of course, he was much too busy for games at the time, but he found her laughter delightful. That was so long ago. A Nubian queen? Even the thought frightened him. Such a radical decision could be scandalous and send his kingdom into yet another war…this one between him and his people. They expected him to follow tradition and choose a bride from his kingdom, better yet, a relative to keep the blood pure. That idea repelled him. He could not imagine bedding any of his cousins just for the sake of a royal lineage. Maybe he should broaden his horizons and search for a queen outside of Africa. But, at the moment, he could not think of a princess outside his own backyard. He supposed Princess Ebe from Alexandria would make a good queen. She is certainly pretty enough. Or maybe a Turkish queen. That certainly would send tongues wagging.
Khai punched his pillow into submission. Why
did he have to choose anyway? He had done perfectly well living with his concubines up until now. Although he knew he could never take any of them as a wife, he was certainly going to miss Mandisa with her sweet mouth and deep throat. If he could choose from his women, it would be her because at least she knew how to please him sexually and did not complain. Right now she slept on the floor beside his bed waiting for him to summon her. Khai reached over and gently stroked her hair.
Mandisa awakened, sat up, and peered over at him. She blinked. “Yes, my pharaoh?”
He beckoned her. Khai moved his long legs over to the side of the bed.
Mandisa rose and shucked out of her gown. Her body is still beautiful after all these years. His father gave her to him on his sixteenth birthday. Mandisa went back down on her knees between his legs. Her soft hands gently cupped his manhood, stroking it to life before placing it in her warm mouth.
Khai took his frustrations out on her, boldly pushing his penis deep into her throat, nearly choking her. Mandisa accepted his actions without complaining or fearing that he would smother her. Afterward, she lay beneath him as he thrust inside of her, not uttering a sound as she had been taught, accepting what was being done to her. Khai shuddered and emptied his seed inside of her. After it was over, he rolled off of her, and Mandisa returned to her pallet on the floor and went off to sleep. Khai lay awake, looking up at the ceiling. Did he want a wife who just laid there and allowed him to have his way with her? No, he did not think so. He wanted more than just a warm body. His craved passion and hot blood, not lukewarm attention. Khai closed his eyes. His search for the perfect woman would begin tomorrow.