A Promised Land (Siren Publishing Classic ManLove) Read online

  A Promised Land

  Aaron is stuck in a country with civil war raging all around. A bombing raid hits the city in an attempt to cull the insurgents and local rebels. Desperate to escape, he tries to leave Syria, heading for Jordan, and runs into Kadil, a local who offers to help.

  In a place where being gay is the ultimate sin, Aaron knows he is living on borrowed time, and finds himself fleeing for his life with two orphaned children as two evil fanatics wanting eternal glory close in. Rescued by Kadil, he embarks on a daring escape, trying to return home. A growing attraction brings more danger—will Kadil betray them or will love conquer all?

  Kadil has to decide if his burgeoning feelings for this British man with the heart of a lion are enough to make him forget his plans. He wants to leave Syria, at any cost—is the price too much to pay?

  Genre: Alternative (M/M, Gay), Contemporary

  Length: 35,158 words

  A PROMISED LAND

  Jools Louise

  EROTIC ROMANCE

  MANLOVE

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  ABOUT THE E-BOOK YOU HAVE PURCHASED: Your non-refundable purchase of this e-book allows you to only ONE LEGAL copy for your own personal reading on your own personal computer or device. You do not have resell or distribution rights without the prior written permission of both the publisher and the copyright owner of this book. This book cannot be copied in any format, sold, or otherwise transferred from your computer to another through upload to a file sharing peer to peer program, for free or for a fee, or as a prize in any contest. Such action is illegal and in violation of the U.S. Copyright Law. Distribution of this e-book, in whole or in part, online, offline, in print or in any way or any other method currently known or yet to be invented, is forbidden. If you do not want this book anymore, you must delete it from your computer.

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  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  IMPRINT: Erotic Romance ManLove

  A PROMISED LAND

  Copyright © 2015 by Jools Louise

  E-book ISBN: 978-1-63259-805-9

  First E-book Publication: October 2015

  Cover design by Harris Channing

  All art and logo copyright © 2015 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 to Readers

  Dear Readers,

  If you have purchased this copy of A Promised Land by Jools Louise from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.

  Regarding E-book Piracy

  This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or group has resale rights, auction rights, membership rights, sharing rights, or any kind of rights to sell or to give away a copy of this book.

  The author and the publisher work very hard to bring our paying readers high-quality reading entertainment.

  This is Jools Louise’s livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect Jools Louise’s right to earn a living from her work.

  Amanda Hilton, Publisher

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  www.BookStrand.com

  DEDICATION

  This is dedicated to those who continue to live in fear for loving the “wrong” way. It wasn’t that long ago that England and Scotland considered homosexuality a criminal offense – thankfully those laws have been changed, and LGBTQ marriages are widely accepted. For some, who live elsewhere in the world, being gay is not just a crime – it is punishable by death. It isn’t our place to judge the relationship between two consenting, loving adults – that’s up to a higher power. For all those who haven’t made it, my heart hurts for you.

  Rest In Peace.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  A PROMISED LAND

  JOOLS LOUISE

  Copyright © 2015

  Prologue

  Aaron screamed in terror as the first mortar hit the hotel across the street. That was just the start of the deluge. Around him people’s terrified screams joined in the cacophony of noise belching from the weapons of war which shot round after round of deadly rain down on the city.

  The hotel lobby he had been checking into shook. Dust and plaster and debris fell around the terrified tourists caught up in the brutal war that had been unleashed without warning. A large pillar crashed to the ground nearby, crushing three people beneath it, their blood staining the once-beautiful marble floor. He looked away quickly from the single arm that sprawled out, its fingers still twitching, confused by the sudden loss of life of its owner.

  Aaron huddled in terror, shaking violently. He was a student of ancient history, undertaking a gap year of travel, a contemporary Grand Tour of places that had been visited for thousands of years by young men like him, eager for knowledge and adventure. He wondered if his professors at university would give him extra credits for actually seeing the effects of modern warfare against ancient edifices which had stood for thousands of years.

  He wondered briefly how many had witnessed the unremitting brutality of war by a government intent on ensuring the compliance of its people at any cost. The rebels who had been fighting the oppression of their harsh ruler had been replaced by a more sinister foe, one that wanted to oppress on religious grounds, citing a strict code to live by—and anyone not obeying would be put to death or worse.

  Shouts from the street entered the lobby, young people brandishing sticks and large rocks running past, blood-streaked faces shocked, fearful and yet defiant at the same time. These young men wanted change from the tyranny surrounding them on all sides. They didn’t want to be dictated to every second of every day under threat of death. They wanted freedom of choice, the same freedom as their western cousins enjoyed. The government and insurgents thought otherwise.

  A young girl ran inside the lobby, holding tightly to the hand of her much smaller companion, a young boy. Aaron stared at the pair, whose blood-streaked, dusty, traumatized expressions registered deeply. Holding out his arms he gestured for them to come over, not caring who they were, but wanting to shield them somehow. Acting on instinct, he had run for the relative safety of an alcove under the main staircase when the first mortar shells began to fall, followed by wave after wave of deadly cluster bombs courtesy of the air force. Uncaring of where they fell, the lethal rain obliterated everything in its path, killing indiscriminately. With all the falling masonry, he felt he had
chosen wisely, the lobby now littered by debris and corpses from those who had run for less secure positions in their panic.

  The children ran to him, hiding with him under the reinforced arch.

  “Do you speak English?” His voice was muted, hoarse with fear.

  The little girl nodded.

  “I am Zada. I speak a little English. This is my cousin, Akeem. Our parents are dead.” She began to cry, her little body trembling like a leaf. Zada was about ten years old, her cousin Akeem half her age. His lower lip wobbled as Zada sobbed, big tears sliding along his olive-toned cheeks. Both children had the dark hair, eyes and luxuriant lashes of their heritage.

  “My name is Aaron. Do you have anyone else to help you? Any other relatives?” Zada shook her head, long black hair swaying gently.

  “A bomb hit our house. Our family is dead. Our brothers and sisters and aunts and uncles. Everyone was crushed. The building fell on them.” Aaron closed his eyes in horror, unable to comprehend a government who would fire on its own people. Who were the monsters who waged war on the innocent? The craziness in the world made him sick to his stomach.

  “Then we’ll just have to stay together, won’t we? I have a British passport. I need to get to the British embassy if it’s still standing. I’ll take you with me, and we’ll see if we can get you some help.” Zada nodded, hugging her little cousin tightly, then gripping Aaron’s hand firmly.

  The bombardment went on for two hours, the sky raining fire and death, the streets littered with holes, blood, body parts and the remains of buildings that had stood for centuries. Until now. Weapons these days were far more destructive than bows and arrows.

  Shaking violently, covered in plaster dust, the trio of Aaron, Zada and Akeem waited until there was a lull which lasted several minutes, then gingerly made their way into the street.

  The British Embassy was a few streets away, an easy walk normally. In the torn up centre of the city, it was like walking through a minefield, negotiating the rubble strewn around. Locals were just beginning to view the aftermath, stoic yet angry at the same time. No one paid attention to Aaron and his two charges as they meandered toward the Embassy.

  Eventually they made it to the large structure which housed the Ambassador for this region, the British Consulate and his staff. At least it used to.

  Aaron felt his heart sink and his stomach clench with nausea.

  The Brits had left the building.

  The British Embassy was deserted.

  He was on his own. A homosexual British man, escorting two local children in a country which had a reputation for punishing first, then asking questions. In a country where homosexuality was considered a sin punishable by death. If he was caught and questioned, if he was investigated even the slightest bit he would be in trouble. Deadly trouble. Forget the homosexuality bit, he was a male tourist who was in the company of two local children, one a young girl. He felt sick again.

  “There’s no one home,” Zada said timidly, staring up at Aaron with frightened eyes, looking worried.

  “No, Zada, they appear to have left. Perhaps we can get some supplies from here, there may be something we can use for food. Then we’ll need to leave here. The bombing was just the beginning, I think. It will be safer if we can get out of town.”

  Zada nodded trustingly and Aaron’s heart clenched, feeling the heavy weight of responsibility. He was a twenty-four-year-old studying for a master’s degree in history. He was winging it here, making things up as he went. Which was okay if he was alone, but now he had taken on the safety of these two youngsters.

  He looked into two pairs of dark eyes, glimmering with tears and the terrors of their nightmarish recent past, and knew he would protect them whatever the cost. Squaring his shoulders, he headed around the side of the building, searching for a way in. Whoever had been here would have left food and water. They would need supplies for what he had in mind.

  The children followed without question, like silent ghosts coasting along beside him. They should have been like other kids, chattering and giggling between themselves, or bickering over some imagined slight. Aaron felt sick at the thought that their childhood had been scarred forever by death.

  He shouldn’t even be here, in this city. It was supposed to have been a transit stop only, but he’d screwed up. He had overstayed his trip by two days, wanting more information about a particular shrine up in the mountains. He had been so intent on his studies about the past that he had ignored the dangers of the present.

  Already he had attracted the wrong kind of attention by asking questions. Clerics here were cagy when asked about certain events in the past. He needed to get out, and fast.

  Luck was with them, it seemed, and they secured some bottled water, which they gathered into a couple of back packs thrown into a cupboard. Their entrance, through a door that had been damaged by the recent bombing raid, had been easy. The kitchens were immaculate, and they’d added fruit and other food to their cache before heading out again. Aaron had tried the phone, in vain. Either these guys hadn’t paid their bill, or the telephone lines had been destroyed along with everything else. Since he had lost his telephone recently in a deep chasm while traversing some ancient cave systems, he was without communication home.

  He looked down at the children, gritted his teeth, and began walking. These children needed help, and staying in this war torn city was not an option. If he could get to Jordan, he had a chance at getting home. He’d just come from Jordan a couple of days ago, and he was certain they would be sympathetic to two young orphans seeking refuge.

  Zada made no protest as she held Aaron’s hand, her cousin holding his other as they began to make their way out of the city. Aaron had a vague idea of the direction he needed to go, using a mental compass to navigate.

  Zada held on tightly, silently walking alongside as the trio set off in a bid to be free of this hell on earth.

  Chapter One

  Kadil watched the small group intently, cunningly. He needed a way out. The British boy might just be it. It was far better to be travelling with an obvious tourist than trying to flee on his own. He had papers. That was not the issue. He was on the radar of some fairly nasty individuals, though, who were watching him. He would use whatever means at his disposal to avoid them.

  He ignored the twinge he felt in his lower regions as he studied the handsome young man, the light blond hair, tall and muscular frame and tight muscular ass. The guy filled out those cargo shorts to perfection. Kadil scowled, shaking off the unwanted attraction. He had no time for flirtations, even if such things didn’t guarantee him a death warrant. Male only relationships were not only frowned on here, they were downright dangerous. Being gay was the main reason Kadil wanted out, and fast. The newcomers to the city were luring out guys like him, pretending to be interested, and then delivering swift and brutal punishment to the unfortunate individuals. His friend had already found out the hard way that these people were evil. Kadil did not want to be next on their list.

  Now was the time leave this hell hole, his long-term travel plans had just been brought forward a couple of years.

  Kadil had worked at the hotel across the street from where he’d seen the blond man leave with two children in tow. The hotel was now a bombed out ruin.

  Syrian by birth, he had lived his whole life in the shadows, under a government which oppressed its populace with an iron fist. He had a little money saved, since working for the big hotels allowed him the luxury of collecting tips. Easy money really. Tourists gave away their cash at the slightest sign of a friendly face. Kadil had perfected the art of a bright smile, a welcoming tone to his voice and a willingness to absorb the patronizing nature of some of the visitors. Instead of letting their comments irritate he used them as fuel to motivate him to charm them even more. His reward? More tips for his travel fund.

  The group moved on, Kadil following with his eyes from the relative safety of a building that had somehow missed the bombing raid earlier. His dark bro
wn eyes narrowed as he spotted potential trouble for the British boy and the two youngsters that he was escorting. Two men, not local, also eyed the boy. Kadil knew them, he knew everyone.

  The two men were not government but belonged to a new radical group who had moved in recently.

  Malik and Qasim.

  Both were dangerous, treacherous.

  Kadil didn’t know what their ultimate intentions were but he was satisfied neither of the morons were wanting to make friends. He had seen them betray a good friend of his to the authorities, outing them to their friends and families as gay. Kadil had seen his friend taken at gunpoint from his home. That was the last he had seen of the young man. Kadil knew that the two insurgents were responsible. If you wanted to move in on a territory, it was a good idea to destabilize it first. Create doubt and fear and suspicion, then pounce like a great cat on a defenseless mouse, ripping out its underbelly before taking over.

  This city, once vibrant and friendly, was now riddled with fear and deceit, with people willing to betray their lifelong friends to save their own skins. It was time Kadil left and sought pastures new.

  Kadil watched as Malik and Qasim moved after the British boy, following stealthily, like a pair of hulking vultures waiting to strike the unwary. He glared angrily. He had a score to settle with these two thugs. If anyone had a problem with that, it would have to wait until he was dead himself.

  He moved silently, heading after them. If the British boy was to be his salvation, then two threats must be eliminated. Kadil would see what unfolded first, work out a strategy, then carry out the nasty business of exterminating vermin. His brown eyes narrowed with resolve. His friend would be avenged. He would never admit to anyone that the man had been far more than that.