Lara's Last Journey [One More Time 2] (Siren Publishing Allure)
Page 1
One More Time 2
Lara’s Last Journey
There are some loves that are too strong to derail or escape from. Being a passionate, independent woman is something to be proud of…unless you are alone at night and your dreams are haunted.
Lara Dunups always felt like she was born in the wrong era. Her dreams were constantly haunted by the same man from the past. During a short drive, she feels dizzy and slips into darkness, only to wake up in a bedroom in the year 1521.
Pasha Suleyman is the third son of Sultan Hasan I in the Ottoman Empire. A man devoted to serve and protect his father, his heart secretly yearns for the woman who monopolizes his dreams. Until one evening, when he closes his eyes and makes a wish.
Can a woman from the future make it in this newfound era? And can Suleyman protect his beloved from his foe? Be careful what you wish for…
Genre: Fantasy, Historical, Time Travel
Length: 25,365 words
LARA’S LAST JOURNEY
One More Time 2
Mya Larose
EROTIC ROMANCE
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Erotic Romance
LARA’S LAST JOURNEY
Copyright © 2014 by Mya Larose
E-book ISBN: 978-1-62741-937-6
First E-book Publication: July 2014
Cover design by Harris Channing
All art and logo copyright © 2014 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
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DEDICATION
Special thanks to my husband and Lily Drew.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Epilogue
About the Author
LARA’S LAST JOURNEY
One More Time 2
MYA LAROSE
Copyright © 2014
Chapter 1
Istanbul, 1521
Pasha Suleyman and his trustworthy Vizier and longtime friend, Salim Cali, marched swiftly and briskly. After spending six years on foreign lands, they were glad to return to their country, his father’s land.
“Ah! My dear old friend. God has been kind to us. Our conquest of the foreign lands was formidable.” Salim praised him and clapped him on the shoulder.
Such a gesture wasn’t tolerated to any member of the royal family, but Salim was like a brother and his trusted adviser. They had trained together since they were taken away from their mothers’ side at the tender age of nine. They had fought many battles together and won them all.
Salim’s mother, Fatma, was his mother’s favourite servant. As long as he could remember, Fatma had always accompanied his mother, Hurrem, everywhere. She was at his mother’s side along with the midwife when he was born. He recalled his mother telling him that it was a custom of his father to be absent during the birth. Therefore, his father had waited in his chamber with his grandmother, the Valide Sultan. He didn’t know his grandmother very well. She had passed away, when he was at the tender age of a year old.
But he didn’t agree to such a tradition. He wanted to be with his Kadin the day she was about to bring his offspring into this world.
Then came the day that Fatma had announced to his mother that she was with child. During the reign of the Valide Sultan within the harem, life was hard for the slaves. His grandmother ruled the harem with an iron fist. Slaves with child were banished from the protection of the harem or they chose to terminate the life of the infant. Just the thought of those options gave him the shivers. Only God knew the fate of the poor soul.
So, with the help of his mother, Fatma could keep her son as well as bring him up alongside the future Pashas. Suleyman could remember her dearly. She had been such a gentle soul. She always had a bright smile from dawn to dusk.
At the tender age of twenty, while he was on foreign land of Persia alongside Salim, they learned that his mother had passed away peacefully in her sleep. Before they left the kingdom, Suleyman and Salim knew about his mother’s poor health. However, her death came as a blow to him as well as Salim.
It was sixteen years ago today. It felt like such a long time. Tilting his head back, Suleyman closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He could feel the breeze from the shoreline of the Bosphorus dissolved the fog of his thoughts. It was good to be back in his father’s land, he thought with a sigh.
He turned his head to Salim. “Yes, my friend. God has blessed me in so many ways. Hopefully, he will grant me one more wish.”
They walked down the main street leading to the palace. It always amazed him that the displays of the market place never changed, or the owners. He remembered like it was yesterday, how he used to run away from the guards and zigzag between the food stalls with Salim. He emitted a long sigh.
Those times belonged to innocence.
He shook his head slightly as they swiftly entered the palace through the imperial gate. Topkapi palace was the primary residence of his father, Sultan Hasan I, as well as the location of his wives’ private chambers. The Sultan had four wives, eight sons, and two daughters. At the age of thirty-six, Suleyman was the third in line to the throne. However, the idea of being the next Sultan gave him shivers.
For some time now, he had thought about retiring from his father’s service and settling down. When he had been in the middle of the battlefield holding his blood-covered scimitar, he had loomed over the mutilated body of his enemy, and thought that he wasn’t getting any younger. The time had come for him to retire and find a good woman. A Kadin that he would love and cherish like a precious stone, and with the blessing of God she would birth him several sons. Maybe one or two daughters, he thought with a grin.
“Are you still thinking about pulling yourself away from the Sultan’s service, my friend?” Salim asked him quietly. They rapidly made their way to the privy chambers of his father.
“My time has come. My father might grant me my last wish. My home in the province of Izmir is done now. As soon as I’m free of my father’s service, we will relocate to my new home,” he replied.
To prove to his Sultan that he was worthy of his father, Suleyman had grabbed the opportunity to earn his wish. He had volunteered to lead his father’s armies for the last time to the foreign lands. He conquered the Christian strongholds of Belgrade, Rhodes, and most of Hungary. He annexed most of the Middle East in his conflict with the Persians and large swathes of North Africa as far west as Algeria. Under his rule, his father’s fleet dominated the seas from the Mediterranean to the Red Sea and the Persian Gulf. Yes! It was time to take his retirement from his father’s side and his army. He wanted to find his Caucasian Kadin.
He knew what she looked like. In his dreams, her hair flowed like a cascade of lava from Mount Ararat. Her skin was as smooth as a newborn babe, and her body…He felt his manhood swell with need at the thought of his beauty.
It would be an embarrassment to present himself in front of his father with his manhood straight as a waiting soldier, he thought with a chuckle. As they passed through the arch that led to a high-domed passage covered with gilded calligraphy, Salim stopped him in his tracks.
“Are you telling me you’re still waiting for your dream Kadin, Suleyman?” He grinned.
With a displeased frown, he replied, “You can laugh, my friend. However, my Kadin came to me in my dreams several times. God is trying to tell me that I will meet my beloved soon.”
Salim bowed his head in respect. “Forgive me for my impertinence, Pasha Suleyman. May God grant your every wish,” he said with a straight face but with amusement in his eyes.
For a second, Suleyman looked at his longtime friend and laughed. The friendly banter between them was the only thing that kept him sane during his time in the foreign lands. With the blunt side of his scimitar, he nudged him.
“How many times have I told you not to use my title? You’re just doing it to annoy me, my friend. You need to be taught some lesson,” Suleyman said with a grin.
With a chuckle, Salim said, “The only thing I need right now is a good bath, some food, and a willing woman, or maybe two.” he emitted a longing sigh. “It’s good to be back home, my friend.” And with a quick bow of his head he dismissed himself. Only Salim could get away with such behavior in his presence.
With a shake of his head and a smile, Suleyman looked at his friend making his way towards the kitchen quarters. There always were one or two willing women slaves ready to accommodate the soldiers.
Since he became a man, he’d had his fair share of women from his father’s harem. He had bedded women of all different shapes and skin tones. When he’d sampled so much sweetness, he knew exactly what he wanted at the end.
He stopped at his father’s privy chamber doors and knocked three times to announce his arrival to the guards. He took one step back from the richly decorated doors on both sides. Their top panels were engraved with some religious inscriptions and monograms of his ancestors.
He straightened his kaftan along with his sash around his waist when the door opened. The Sultan was seated on a slightly elevated throne completely covered with gold cloth, replete with numerous precious stones. There were, on all sides, many cushions of inestimable value.
The walls of the chamber were covered with mosaic work spangled with azure and gold. The exterior of the fireplace was covered with gold and solid silver. At one side of the chamber, a water fountain gushed forth from a wall. His precious mother always enjoyed the tranquility of his chambers, and right now, she kneeled at his father’s feet.
He took a deep breath and made his way swiftly to the middle of the chamber. He bowed his upper body by placing his fist against his heart. Suleyman lowered his eyes.
“Oh great Sultan. May God give you a thousand lives.” He greeted his father.
The Sultan bowed his head slightly. “My son! Welcome back to your father’s land. Rise up, Suleyman, and let me look at you. You have showed me what kind of son I have fathered. One that I’m proud of calling my son. You humbled me with your victories and brought me prosperity,” he declared with a rare smile.
“Tell me, my son, is there a truth in the rumors I hear throughout my home?” the Sultan asked as he leaned forwards and lazily caressed his long beard.
“If you are referring to my retirement from your side, well, yes, it is true. Of course, with your permission,” he replied as he held his head high.
There was a second of silence in the chamber. His father looked at him with a frown on his face like he was displeased with him. Suleyman thought that his petition would have been ruled out with the swipe of his hand. It was his father’s method of declaring a refusal while he conferred with his vassal or when he was in a public audience.
Suleyman heard his father take a deep breath. “Well, my son. You have never displeased me,” he started to say with a heavy sigh. Strangely enough, the Sultan looked at his wife, like asking her for some kind of guidance or support. Such behavior from the Sultan was unheard of. His mother’s only response was to gracefully nod her head once.
“With your conquest of the foreign lands, I have decided to grant your wish, Suleyman.” He laid his hand on his wife’s shoulder. “And also, with the sweet whisper of your beloved mother in my ears, I, Sultan Hasan I, have decided to release my son Pasha Suleyman from his duty and give him free will.”
As soon as Suleyman heard those words from his father’s mouth, he felt like a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulder. He sighed discreetly.
“Thank you, father. May God bless you,” he said.
He stooped again to his father, although this time he winked at his mother with a happy grin. Without turning his back to his father, he made his way out and towards his new abode.
Chapter 2
Northern Ireland, 2013
“I’ll be with you as soon as possible, Miss Dunups.” The voice came from the store room located behind the desk.
“Is there something wrong with the dress?” she demanded with a frown. That was the last thing she needed, the dress not being ready in time for tomorrow.
The seamstress’s head appeared in the door frame. “Oh, dear! Nothing’s wrong with the dress. I’m just giving it the final alterations,” she said with a grin, and went back to her stock room.
Taping her freshly manicured nail rhythmically on the counter, Lara Dunups emitted a long sigh and waited for the seamstress to give the last touch on Zara’s wedding dress.
Lara could remember everything like it was yesterday—the day Zara met Peter Adames, the worries she went through about her relationship with him, the long hours they spent on the phone talking about it when Lara had pushed her to take the leap. Nevertheless, her destiny had changed when Yasemin, Zara’s little sister, had called and told her about the attempted murder of he
r best friend.
It turned out that the woman who stalked Peter made the plot. When Zara came into his life, the crazy woman decided to have her friend killed by a serial assassin. When she thought of what could have happened to Zara that day, it gave her the shivers.
A year later, here they were organizing Zara’s wedding. She was going to miss her friend as well as their girly times together. It wasn’t like she wasn’t moving out of her flat to somewhere faraway, but married wasn’t like being single. She could feel tears welling up in her eyes. She was such a selfish cow! She should be happy that her best friend found happiness. Instead, she had only negative thoughts about relationships.
To clear her thoughts, as well as to treat herself, she decided to go on a little holiday by herself for two weeks, to a foreign country far from the United Kingdom. She’d always had this notion to go to Turkey, maybe because she dreamed about this drool-over-me Sultan or some sort of royalty. Her dreams were always based in luxurious surroundings. She would find herself in the middle of a large bed.
She could describe exactly the chamber she always found herself in every night. The bedroom was enormous, and the walls were covered with these amazing, exotic Iznik tiles. There was a plume-shaped, bronzed fireplace. She would then hear a man’s voice calling to her with a sexy, low-pitched voice.
However, when she turned her head towards the voice, she would wake up breathless and frustrated. Her dreams even affected her sexual life. She was a walking, talking, horny bomb ready to explode. For some strange reason, she just couldn’t appease her thirst with another man. It had to be the same man…her dream man.