Grounded

showed Patty to her rooms, and then went to his own. Putting his suitcases down, he lay back on the bed and stretched. A single door connected their suites and he could hear her moving around, most likely unpacking and exploring every nook and cranny. He climbed from the bed and went to the door. He knocked, and she opened it, a huge grin on her face. He couldn’t help but smile.
    "This hotel is awesome!" she exclaimed. "Come here." Grabbing his hand she pulled him to the open French doors and out onto the balcony. "Look at that. The Vatican! And there’s St. Peter’s! Can you believe this?"
    Her face glowed with excitement, and her eyes sparkled with delight. This is what true joy looks like, he thought. Had he ever known that feeling himself? Had he ever looked out at the horizon and been filled with wonderment and excitement at what he saw? Had he ever been happy just t o b e ? Happy with what he had? With what was around him? The answer to those questions came quickly enough. No. He’d never in his life been so contentedly happy. Period. Oh, there were moments of happiness, to be sure. But every moment of happiness he’d ever had was because of something he had acquired, whether a work of art, a new yacht, or a new woman. He’d never been truly happy just being who he was.
    "It’s quite a sight," he agreed, though she didn’t notice he wasn’t looking at the scenery. "Tomorrow we’ll have a meeting with the curator of ancient artifacts, then afterwards, we’ll take a tour of the Vatican, and St. Peter’s, if you’d like."
    "That would be wonderful. I really can’t believe all of this, Dion. Thank you," she said, and standing on her tiptoes, she kissed him on the cheek. He just stood there - mute. Floored by her goodness, by her innocence, and by her utter decency.
    "You’re welcome," he said softly. He was uncomfortable as hell, but she didn’t seem to notice because she was back at the railing, leaning over it, squealing with innocent delight. For a moment, he longed to do nothing more than take her in his arms and share in her delight . Shit, what the hell is wrong with me ? Taking a few calming breaths he reined in his emotions, clamped down on them with unshakeable control, and cleared his throat. "Perhaps we should go to out to dinner? You must be hungry by now."
    She turned back to him, her face flushed with excitement, and he felt his implacable control begin to slip.
    "I would love to," she said. "Give me thirty minutes to get ready."
    "I’ll be back then," he said. He turned on his heel and went back to his room.
     
    Kicking off his shoes, Dion shook his head. He peeled off his clothing as he headed to the shower. Standing under the hot spray, he contemplated his reactions to Patty’s joy. One human female should not be able to make him feel the way he was feeling right now. Not only was there a physical reaction, like the obvious one he had right now in spite of himself, but Patty pulled at something deep inside of him. Pulled at something no one else ever had. At something he hadn’t even been fully aware had existed within him.
    A Greek-fucking-god, that’s what he was! He was Dionysus, the son of Aurora, Goddess of Light. He was the brother of Ira, the God of Wrath. He was the freaking son of Zeus himself! Dionysus, the God of Wine and Revelry, the god of fucking women’s brains out! That’s who the hell he was, and hadn’t he proven he was worthy of the name? Hadn’t he spent his lifetime enjoying wine, women and song across both worlds? Hadn’t he left hundreds, nay, thousands, of women wanting more of him, even though they could barely move when he was through with them? Hadn’t he taken revelry to new freaking heights?
    Rinsing off, he took a calming breath, stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel, which he rubbed quickly over his body and head. He leaned on the sink and stared into the mirror. The face before him was ever familiar, not having changed in a few thousand years, but he didn’t usually look at himself. Now he examined his face, his eyes, his hair, and his body.
    Never had he wondered what his life meant. Never had he questioned who he was. Never had he doubted his goals. Never had he thought of changing for anyone. So why was he having such a problem with all of that now? Why was one woman invading his thoughts through the days and his dreams at night?
    Perhaps he just needed to fuck her until she begged him to stop. Perhaps it was only lust. Perhaps