Jove’s Realm Read online

  Evernight Publishing

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2014 Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy

  ISBN: 978-1-77130-886-1

  Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs

  Editor: Karyn White

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  For Miss Albright, my middle school librarian, who first introduced me to mythology and helped me discover the vivid tales handed down from the dawn of time.

  JOVE’S PASSION

  Love Immortal

  Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy

  Copyright © 2014

  Jove’s Realm

  Chapter One

  Jay stood with his feet firm against the carpet and hands locked behind his back, as he glared through the glass wall of his office. The blue of the western sky stretched outward into infinity above the city of Fort Worth and onward over the plains with no more than a few wispy white clouds to break the intense color. He determined that would change. As his mood darkened, his plans for a thunderstorm increased. All the elements existed to bring it together in a seemingly natural way. Temperatures rose, the barometer fell, and a storm front hovered within a few hundred miles. No one would question severe weather so he could indulge and vent his frustrations over his mundane, less-than-satisfying existence. Living like a mortal irked someone who had been an ancient deity, but so few believed anymore that he had no choice.

  “Mr. Jove?” His newest office assistant stuck her head into his office. He’d asked her to knock first and to call him by the name he preferred, but she did neither.

  He spoke without turning around. “Call me Jay, please. What is it?”

  “Skye Marcus is holding for you on line one.”

  “Take a message.”

  “I tried,” Mindy said. “She refused and said she’d hold as long as necessary until you took her call. I didn’t know what to do.”

  Jay did. After he dealt with the call, he needed to find yet another office assistant. Maybe he could find one capable of following his simple directions and easy rules. “Tell her I’ll talk with her in twenty minutes.”

  “Yes, Jay, I will.”

  Mindy retreated like a shy mouse. Jay—short for Jupiter Jove—turned away from the window wall and sat down at his desk. His powerful frame folded into the oversized chair with ease and his long legs stretched under the large desk with room to spare. He considered Skye Marcus. Although he’d never met the woman, he knew her reputation. As a world-class journalist, she published a magazine, Skyewatch. The print circulation numbered in the millions and her online subscribers matched or exceeded the number. She wrote for her publication now, but in the past she’d been first a newspaper reporter, then a television anchor. When she branched out solo, media pundits predicted her failure but her career soared. The national and cable news network program sought her as a guest. So did the big-name talk show hosts. Her image had graced the cover of other publications, and her syndicated column ran in Sunday newspapers in thirty states.

  Her hard-hitting journalism focused on anyone or anything of interest. She penned everything from heartbreaking human interest stories to edgy expose pieces and newsworthy commentary. Skye interviewed everyone from ex-cons to CEOs and she wanted to add Jay as another notch on her career belt. As a rule, he avoided media and strove for a low profile but Skye intrigued him enough to consider a meeting.

  Although he adored women, most that crossed his path were toys, something to amuse him and discard afterward. Most he found to be silly, empty creatures who not worth his effort. But Skye Marcus was different. For a mortal, she wielded an amazing power, power she’d gained and harnessed on her own recognizance. Jay admired her for it. She seemed intelligent, as well and beautiful. He had his preferences in women, and although few came close to his taste, Skye did.

  More than once, he had searched for photographs and videos of the woman online. Her wide-set dark eyes appeared deep and luminous like a full moon pinned against a night sky. Raven black hair framed a heart-shaped face, one with exquisite features. Her nose protruded in a classic style and her generous mouth boasted rich lips, not too thin or thick. Her hair cascaded in a series of full-bodied waves when worn loose, but he’d also seen pictures of her wearing it up in a way similar to women from long ago. Skye possessed a distinctly Roman look and the beauty of a patrician’s wife from ancient times. Her skin had the slight dusky coloring common to Italy, and Jay speculated what her body looked like beneath her clothing. He imagined the full breasts with nipples the size of ripe grapes, the slender waist tapering down to the cleft between her legs—and he dreamed. If he wanted her, he never doubted he could have her, but he ached for more than the physical. With Skye, he craved love, something he hadn’t known in centuries. And he’d never met her in the flesh. That frightened him because love either brought power or diminished it. At this stage, he clung to his remaining powers with all he had.

  Jay wondered how and why she’d been named Skye. Maybe her parents were fanciful or perhaps she took the name as an adult. Either way, a woman named for his domain fascinated and fueled his imagination. When she first called, he ignored her. He expected she would give up and move on to another person. She didn’t, though. Her calls came daily for more than two weeks. Such persistence might’ve turned another man away, but Jay enjoyed it. She must be strong-willed, a characteristic he shared and appreciated.

  Twenty minutes later, he took her call. “This is Jay,” he said and waited, eager to hear her voice for the first time.

  “Jupiter Jove, this is Skye Marcus.” Her tone might be no-nonsense and brisk with business, but her voice carried the lilt of songbirds in the springtime. “How are you?”

  “I prefer to be called Jay.”

  “But your given name is Jupiter Jove?” He thought he caught a teasing note in her voice.

  “Yes.” Jay decided to give very little information. Let her extract what she sought.

  “No one ever called you Jupe, or even Jo?”

  He laughed. “No. I’ve answered to Jupiter in the past or simply Jove, but Jay is simple.”

  “I suppose so. Were your parents into Roman mythology?”

  Her question stunned him into a brief silence. “You might say they were, yes.”

  “I couldn’t imagine any other reason for the name,” Skye said. “It’s unusual. I’m sure you’re aware Jupiter and Jove are the same deity?”

  “Of course I am. And tell me, where did you get the name Skye? The sky belongs to Jove, along with thunder.”

  “Ah, yes, king of the gods,” Skye said with laughter enriching her voice. “My mother’s grandmother came from the Isle of Skye in Scotland. She suggested the name and my parents approved it.”

  So her family had strong traditions. Jay liked that very much. “That makes it a very special name.”

  “Yes, it does. Now, since it took me weeks to connect with you, let’s get down to business. I’d like to interview you for my magazine, Skyewatch.”

  “Why?”

  Whatever reply she might have expected, Jay doubted it had been his blunt question. If he threw her, though, she recovered with speed. “You operate a very successful weather consulting firm, one of the best in the business. In addition, you’re young, single, and elusive. People would love to know more abo
ut you, Jay. In today’s world, the public is hungry for details about celebrities.”

  “I hardly consider myself a celebrity,” he protested, although the idea flattered him. “I’m not a rock star or movie actor or on television. I don’t write books and I’m not known for my athletic prowess.”

  “You’re not known for anything outside your firm. Why is it called ‘Eagle Eye Weather Consulting’?”

  Eagles were his, always had been. In the old times, he’d used them often as messengers, even as minions, but he didn’t see any way to explain. “I like eagles,” he said. “They’re majestic and powerful birds.”

  “I agree. Will you agree to an interview? I’d be happy to let you approve any articles before I run them in my magazine. I think the publicity would be a positive thing for you and your company.”

  Jay opened his mouth to refuse but the woman fascinated him. He had long admired her reputation and appearance. Although he expected to find her intelligent, her quick mind appealed to him and ranked far above his expectations. Her voice intoxicated him and he wanted to see her in the flesh. If he did, then he could indulge his curiosity and forget her. “All right,” he said. “When and where?”

  “I’m free the rest of the day. I could come over to your office if you’d like.”

  His fingers flipped open his appointment book. He had two consults scheduled but he could postpone them. “How soon could you be here?”

  “It’s one-thirty now. I can make it across town and be there by three if that works for you.”

  Her trek would take her from the heart of downtown Dallas over into Fort Worth, across a maze of urban highways. In many ways, he realized it would be more treacherous than travel in ancient times and no less dangerous—probably more so. He added courage to his mental list of her characteristics. “It does. I warn you, though, it’s going to storm soon.”

  Skye laughed. “Are you sure? I know you’re good at your predictions but there’s not a cloud in the sky.”

  Although Jay’s mood had improved, he still wanted to stir up a storm. “There will be,” he told her. “In fact, I’ll bet you there will be. If there isn’t, I’ll take you to dinner tonight.”

  “And if there is?”

  “Then you’re buying me a meal.”

  Laughter erupted into his ear, as musical and sweet as a free-flowing brook. “You’re on. I’ll see you at three.”

  “I’m looking forward to it.”

  The moment he replaced the phone, he rose and strolled into Mindy’s territory. “I’m going up to the penthouse,” he said. “Hold all my calls. Cancel my afternoon appointments and reschedule if possible.”

  “Yes, uh, Jay, okay.” Mindy scribbled something on a notepad. “What should I tell them if they ask why?”

  “Tell them I became suddenly and violently ill,” he said. A grin stretched out the corners of his mouth.

  She gaped at him. “You look fine.”

  Jay snorted. “I am fine, Mindy. Just do as I asked, please, and don’t analyze.”

  He took the elevator to his private top floor apartment and stepped into his domain. The spacious penthouse stretched out in a broad living space. Three of the walls, all except the one containing the elevator, were floor-to-ceiling glass. The building rose above most of the other skyscrapers and multiple skylights opened to the heavens. Minimal furniture sat in small arrangements. His kitchen appliances were arranged against the sole wall, as were a row of cabinets and countertops. A dining table with four chairs stood nearby in the expanse of light blue carpeting. In another area, a sofa, loveseat, and recliner faced the big-screen television mounted on the wall. At the far end of the room, his bed backed up against the glass and above it a skylight provided an upward view. A chest at the foot of his bed, another chest of drawers, and a free-standing closet completed the bedroom area. In the corner past the kitchen zone, a door led into a compact bathroom.

  Jay stripped out of his Armani suit and other garments. He sighed with pleasure to be free from clothing and strolled around the apartment naked. There were many modern conveniences he liked, a few he loved, but the current mode of dress didn’t rank among either. He paused to pour a glass of Moscato wine and sipped it, savoring the taste. Anticipation for his meeting with Skye Marcus brought a rush more potent than the drink. He had fallen into a rut, a lifestyle where one day resembled the next so much sometimes that he couldn’t tell them apart. His consulting firm had pleased him at first but now he was bored with it all. He could predict the weather with far more accuracy than the weather bureau or any weathercaster. The sky was his domain and he ruled it. But he lacked any excitement. Most of clients were as alike as mass-produced pencils.

  But Skye intrigued him.

  He kept to his plan to create a thunderstorm, as much for his amusement as to prove a point with her. If he liked her as much as he thought he might, he’d call her on her wager and she could take him out to dinner. Something Greek sounded tempting. Jay used the elevator to reach his rooftop getaway. The oasis—a blooming, growing garden—provided him with a private retreat, one he took full advantage of as often as possible. Although he’d adapted to city life, Jay preferred the remote space he’d once called home and had done his best to recreate it.

  The potted lilacs, both lavender and white, were in full bloom. Their fragrance filled his nose with the delightful aroma. Roses blossomed on trellises, petunias and marigolds in flower boxes, and a few small trees rooted into large containers, stretched toward the sun. Real grass grew beneath Jay’s feet. He’d toted up the soil himself and planted the seed. Tending the garden was a labor of love, something he would have thought far more suited to a god of earth, not sky, and beneath a one-time king of sorts. Jay loved it, though.

  At the far edge, he stood and faced west. Still nude, he inched his six foot seven inch lean frame to the brink without any fear. In his office, as he went about his daily routines, Jay almost felt human but here in the haven he’d created, and with the sky stretched out before him into near infinity, he didn’t. I am Jupiter, he thought, King of the gods, god of the sky, brother to Neptune who rules the sea, and Pluto, lord of the underworld. I am father of deities, sibling to still more, and child of the gods. Thunder belongs to me and the eagle is my minion.

  Jay clapped his hands and the sound of distant thunder echoed from the horizon. He lifted his right arm into the sky and listened for the sound of wings. Within moments, a great eagle, far too large to be ordinary, swooped down and landed on his outstretched hand. His ancient staff, made from juniper wood, charged with lighting, and blessed by all the Roman gods, sprang into his left hand. With his eagle at his feet, his staff in his hand, Jay used his right hand to throw thunderbolts into the bright blue sky. He laughed as they crackled and flashed.

  Clouds moved in with speed, answering his call, and thickened. They blocked the sun and darkened when he commanded them. Jay laughed and the noise rumbled with the deep rush of a freight train in transit. As the sudden storm erupted over the city, he called upon the smaller deities, the wind god and the rain one, to join their powers with his. The wind picked up and blew hard as rain poured from the sky in torrents, drenching everything below.

  The strong energy Jay delivered into the sky expanded and the power filled his body to capacity. Although born to be immortal, he possessed a theory that the lighting and storm fueled his youth and maintained his prime. Storms brought out his innermost primal self and he delighted in it.

  Jay watched the storm he created as it filled the skies over Dallas-Fort Worth. He danced in the rain, moving through his garden with joy and pagan abandon, then, although the weather continued, he headed downstairs. He showered, put on a clean shirt and fresh suit. After he studied his reflection in the bathroom mirror, he decided he appeared both devastatingly handsome and well-groomed.

  In his office, he waited for Skye Marcus, outwardly calm but with a curl of anticipation deep within his belly, a smoldering spark threatening to burst into flame.<
br />
  Chapter Two

  Poised, Jay posed against the huge windows, silhouetted against the storm. Mindy rapped on the outer office door and opened it after he’d said, “Come on in.” His timid assistant peered into the room. “Skye Marcus is here, Jay.”

  “Thank you. Show her in, please.”

  With a nod, Mindy retreated and the woman he expected strolled into the room. Her white silk Armani V-necked blouse clung to her, so drenched it highlighted her nipples beneath the thin material. The stark white contrasted with her dark hair and tan skin in a way he found striking. Water dripped from her ruined hair, flattened by the downpour, and the eyes he’d found so lovely in photographs glowed with anger. Rage radiated from her in waves so potent, Jay vowed he saw them, like heat ripples in the desert. Ignoring her bedraggled condition, he stretched out his hand. “Hello, Skye. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Come, have a seat. Would you like some wine?”

  Jay gestured toward his black leather sofa and matching chairs. Skye hesitated, mouth pursed into a tight bow, then sat down. “I’d love some, thanks. A towel would be nice if you happen to have one.” Each word snapped out of her mouth, sharper than a well-honed kitchen knife.

  Her request sparked an idea. “I do,” he said. “I live upstairs. Would you like to come up? I can give you a towel there and I’ve got a far better wine selection.”

  He expected a refusal by the way she tilted her head and stared at him, but instead she smiled. Some of the anger in the room diffused. “I’d like that, thanks.”

  He came to his feet and bowed. “Then follow me.”

  She did. Maybe if he’d been prone to polite manners, Jay would have let her go first but as a god, however ancient, debunked, or devalued, he retained both arrogance and attitude. He led the way into the elevator, then exited first at the penthouse. He wanted to see her face to gauge her reaction and when she widened her eyes in appreciation of his space, he grinned. Skye smiled back.