Dion's Desire Read online

  Chablis’ expression of wonder delighted him. “It’s so beautiful. You are, aren’t you?”

  “What?”

  “Pagan,” she said. “If you are, I don’t mind. I’m not one to judge, Dion, truly I’m not. I’ve wondered before now.”

  “Am I pagan?” he said aloud. He had never applied the question to himself. “I suppose I am, my dearest one. I am a god.”

  Her face clouded a little. “What did you say?”

  “Sit, sit.” He directed her to the bench and knelt before her. “My beloved, I am Dionysus, I am Bacchus. I am an immortal god from ancient times. We all live in a near mortal way these days because so few believe.”

  Hope she might believe him without question, and be glad, faded as her smile became a frown. Her eyes ceased to sparkle but kindled fire instead. “I’m not amused,” she said. “Dion, this isn’t funny.”

  “It’s not intended to be, Chablis.”

  She glared at him. “Uh-huh. You can’t mean it and expect me to believe you.”

  “I do,” he said. “Because I am the god of theater, of music, of wine. Don’t you see the truth of it, my golden one, my Chablis?”

  For a moment, every candle flame froze in place and all the air vanished. Dion waited, hoping to see the realization dawn on her face but after several minutes, she shook her head. “No, I don’t. I have no idea what you thought you would accomplish with this, this, nonsense. You played Dionysus in the play and did it well, but you’re not him. If he ever existed, he’s long dead or gone wherever the old gods go.”

  “The play was written for me, the role created for me to play,” he said. “And we go where we wish, Chablis. This vineyard, this place is what I’ve made for myself as a haven but the years have been long and empty. Then you came and brought light into my darkness, gave me hope when I had none.”

  When she said nothing, he thought he might have a chance. “Give me the benefit of a doubt,” he said. “I can show you. I still possess some of my powers. I can tell you stories only a god would know. I can…”

  Chablis stood. “You can take me back to the Château,” she told him. “I need to pack. We leave tomorrow.”

  Dion had never loved her more than this moment. “I don’t want you to leave,” he told her. “I want you to stay here, with me.”

  She laughed and it wasn’t a pretty sound. “You want me to play mortal to your god? I don’t think so,” she said, voice ragged. “Dion, I think you’ve flipped. I can’t believe these things you’re saying to me. I thought I knew you. I thought I loved you.”

  Precious words and she tossed them at him like stones. “Agapi mou,” he said. “I love you, Chablis, hriso mou, my golden one, my beloved. I’ve never loved like this.”

  He watched the impact of his declaration on her face, saw her eyes soften for a fleeting moment. She lifted one hand and put it across his forehead. “Are you feeling well? Maybe you’re sick and have a fever but no, your skin is cool. If you were delirious, I could deal with this but otherwise, I don’t think I can. Have you always had this delusion, or did it come about because of the play?”

  “It’s the truth,” he said. His emotions caught him with such force he babbled to her in ancient Greek, declaring his love, using every endearment and sweet word he knew. She stared at him, shocked and he realized to her, it would be gibberish. If she caught a word or phrase, she would never understand it all.

  “I need to go,” she said. “Dion, I’m sorry. Our time, I mean, my stay here has been something beautiful and wonderful but it’s over. I wish…. Oh, never mind. Just take me back.”

  She lifted one hand and brushed tears from her cheeks, then buried her face between her hands to sob. Dion pulled her into his arms and held her tight. “Don’t cry, Chablis, my love, my heart. Don’t. It will be all right once you understand.”

  With a wild cry, Chablis pulled free from his embrace. “I won’t ever understand,” she said. Sobs erupted between the words. “I can’t. You should get help, Dion and I wish you well but I can’t do this now. Or ever.”

  Before he could say anything more, she bolted outside and ran to the golf cart. Dion sighed, his heart heavy. Pain filled his chest and stretched out to his limbs. He lifted both hands and waved them to extinguish the candles, then followed her with slow steps. After he climbed behind the wheel, he headed for the main house and neither spoke.

  His bed loomed, large and empty, that night. Chablis had collected her things as soon as they returned, then headed down the hallway to bunk with one of her troupe. She didn’t glance back at him or say another word.

  Dion sat at the table and drank one bottle of wine, then another, then another. He couldn’t sleep. His mind refused to think and the pain consumed him. He had never understood the nature of love, the latent power in it to heal and bring joy or the ability to make him hurt. If he could die, if he wasn’t immortal, he would. Unable to bring himself to lie down in the bed or use the sheets that would smell of her particular fragrance, he sat in the darkness, alone.

  And in the morning, when the troupe departed, so did Chablis without a word or backward glance.

  ****

  Fatigue dogged Dion’s steps by the last week of the harvest, a heavy weariness he had never known. He felt almost mortal but since he couldn’t fall sick as an immortal, he realized it must be connected to his low spirits. He missed Chablis more than he had imagined possible and he suffered loneliness. His enjoyment levels dropped until he had no joy in wine or food and he ate very little. Dion hadn’t enjoyed sex since Chablis. He couldn’t bring himself to share physical pleasures with anyone else. He worked harder than he ever had in the past, spent long hours in the vineyard and oversaw every aspect of the grape harvest. Sleep eluded him and though gods might not require it the way mortals did, his body had become accustomed to a certain amount of rest, which he lacked. In a human, the things he rejected would make a man ill and weak. His body wasn’t the problem – it was his spirit.

  His inner ennui, his joy, his drive, his ambition, the life force that propelled him was lacking. And for a god, all were necessary. If he went long enough without them, he would decline but not die. The existence he had found so mundane before Chablis would become agony to endure.

  Constance watched him with a worried eye. She had no way of knowing he possessed immortality but the woman saw how much he pined for Chablis. “Call her, Dion,” she told him daily. “Whatever happened between you can be fixed, I’m sure.”

  He shook his head each time and said, “I doubt it.”

  Unless Chablis could believe him, they had no future…and she had been adamant.

  By the time the harvest ended, even Dion could see how much he had appeared to age. Some of the fantastic good looks with which he’d been created had faded under his burdens and grief for his lost love. He had no idea what might happen but he anticipated nothing good but Jupiter Jove, his one-time father in the hierarchy of the gods, arrived for a visit. Now called Jay for short, he came with a wife in tow, a beautiful woman named Skye. Dion hadn’t attended the wedding but he remembered the gossip about the marriage and vague rumors that she had become immortal.

  When Jay drove up in a golf cart to the spot where Dion sat statue-still looking over the plucked vines of his vineyard, Dion sighed. “What brings you here?” he asked.

  “Your office manager telephoned,” Jay said as he lowered himself to the ground beside Dion. “She’s worried. You look like you’ve been dragged through Hades and back, Dionysus. Is it the woman?”

  Dion snorted. “Do all the deities know my business? You must already know but yes, it’s the woman, Chablis Leblanc. I love her but she’s mortal and I’m not. Nor does she believe I am who I told her I am. She thinks I’m mad.”

  “So did Skye. Can’t you impress her with your powers?”

  “She left so I have no chance.”

  Jay smiled. “Ah, but you will. Your faithful Constance has called her too.”

  He wasn’t
sure if he wanted to be angry or glad. “When is she coming?”

  “She’s here now. Skye’s with her. Will you come back to your Château?”

  Something vital stirred within his heart. If there could be a chance, he would do anything. “Yes,” he said. “I will.”

  The ride back to his home seemed longer than ever but when they came to a halt, Dion saw Chablis on the deep porch, standing beside another woman who must be Skye. Chablis’ golden hair fell loose and free but her expression remained somber. He wanted to say everything to her but his tongue rebelled and tied into knots.

  Jove punched his shoulder. “Go on, she’s waiting.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Then I’ll get things started for you.”

  Jay scrambled out of the cart and gazed skyward. He waved his hands and clouds gathered above with speed. Their darkness filled the sky and he snapped his fingers. Lightning bolts flew from the heavens toward earth and thunder crashed with a great noise. Dion watched the other woman’s face light up with amusement and awe. Chablis frowned. As rain descended from the sky, Jay laughed aloud. “If you don’t like the weather, I’ll change it,” he cried over the noise of the storm.

  Chablis started forward but Skye held her back. Jay spread his arms wide and the storm clouds dispersed. The sun returned with bright glory as Chablis’ mouth fell open. Dion crossed the space to the porch and she met him. “You do look haggard,” she said. “I came because Constance convinced me you were in bad shape, maybe sick.”

  “I’m well in body,” he said. “My spirit suffers, though, and pines for you.”

  “Who is he?”

  He didn’t need her pointed finger to know. “He’s Jupiter Jove,” he said. “He’s a god like me, my father if you trace my lineage through the bloodlines on Mount Olympus. He controls the weather and eagles. His powers are greater than mine but still…”

  “Show me something.” Her soft voice carried a note of steel. “I want to believe. I’ve been listening to Skye and if what she says is true, I might accept it as the truth. But I want to see you do something.”

  Exhilaration soared through Dion. He dared to hope as he clapped his hands. Music played all around them, the sounds that of a lute and lyre. Chablis smiled and he snapped his fingers. A perfect red rose appeared in his hand and he offered it to her with a bow. She accepted it. Tears cascaded down her face but her smile lit her features and his soul.

  “Enough?” he asked, heart beating fast with hope. “Or do you want more?”

  “It’s plenty,” Chablis replied. “Dion, god or man, I love you!”

  “Agapi mou, hriso mou,” he said. In case she didn’t understand, he repeated it in English. “I love you, my golden one.”

  He pulled her into his arms, forgetting Jay and Skye, and kissed Chablis with the longing he had saved up for weeks. Her lips yielded to his and he inhaled her fragrance with fervor. He wanted to take her now, without restraint but remembered in time he couldn’t. Dion stepped back and smiled down at her. “So, we are together and you know who I am,” he said. “But we still have a quandary. I’m immortal and you’re not.”

  “She can be,” Jay said. Dion swiveled his head to give Jove his full attention.

  “How?”

  “Don’t you remember the legend?” Jay replied. “You’ve heard the story that if you feed a mortal ambrosia and nectar, food and drink of the gods, they will become immortal. It’s true.”

  His mind had trouble focusing. “How? Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” Skye said. “I’m now immortal and if she wants, Chablis can be too.”

  Dion wanted to believe, and joy surged through him. “Where would I get such things? It’s not like I can go bring them from Mount Olympus.”

  Jay grinned. “You wouldn’t need to. I brought them for you. I made the mead myself and Skye prepared the ambrosia with my assistance. It’s waiting in your dining room along with a feast if you’re interested.”

  “Chablis?” Dion sought her opinion.

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  He offered her his arm and she took it. Together they walked into the Château where they found, as Jay promised, a veritable feast waiting. Before they drank the wine or tasted the gyros or indulged in the moussaka, Dion offered Chablis ambrosia, not the dessert most Americans knew but a savory dish from the ancient world. She ate it with relish and they drank the potent mead together. No obvious transformation was evident but Dion swore Chablis’ lovely skin became more translucent and her beauty increased.

  “Invite us to the wedding,” Jay said as he and Skye departed. “And you’re welcome.”

  Once alone, Dion lifted Chablis into his arms and carried her to his tower. “If you want to be married, we will be,” he told her. “But now we will love.”

  “Forever,” she whispered. “For aeons and eternity.”

  “Yes,” Dion said. “Ho aion.”

  Then he took her, slow and sensual. When they joined together, he delighted in every stroke and the knowledge that they could do this every day until the end of time. An overwhelming tenderness toward her moved him and filled his heart with emotion.

  His desire had become his love.

  Forever.

  The End

  www.leeannsontheimermurphywriterauthor.blogspot.com

  Other Books by Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy:

  www.evernightpublishing.com/pages/Lee-Ann-Sontheimer-Murphy.html

  If you enjoyed this book, you may also like:

  Metamorphosis by Lace Daltyn

  Bear Heart by Elyzabeth M. VaLey

  Dangerous Lines by Moira Callahan

  Evernight Publishing

  www.evernightpublishing.com