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The Seduction of Seleste

from the world of the mating season

I'll Marry You

Chapter 21

"I never thought I'd say this," Talisa said as Ahote helped her to her feet, "but thank my ancestors for you."

Ahote laughed good-naturedly. He hurried to Seleste and helped her sit up. Seleste's heart fluttered when he pinched her chin and examined her face. His brows pressed together as he asked anxiously, "Are you alright? They didn't hurt you, did they?"

Seleste looked down bashfully. "I'm fine, Ahote."

Ahote helped her to her feet, and they smiled at each other.

"So with all your brothers dead," said Talisa, brushing herself off, "that makes you in charge around here, huh?"

"I guess so," said Ahote, as if it had just dawned on him.

"Then you can help us get back across the sea."

Ahote didn't seem to hear Talisa. He was holding Seleste's paws and he stared absently into her eyes. Feeling awkward and shy, Seleste's pretty gray eyes darted to the earthen floor and back to his face. She didn't know why, but she liked his staring. It was kind of . . . sweet.

Talisa cleared her throat, and marching across the room, she pointedly stood between Seleste and Ahote, breaking their paws apart with a brisk gesture. "You hear what I said?" she demanded.

As if he'd come back to himself, Ahote rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head. "My wolves don't have ships," he answered. "Why should we? We keep to ourselves and there are few villages who know we exist. Probably none."

Talisa snorted. "You have to trade with someone," she said waving around the throne room at the decorations, the fur mats, the plates and goblets that were of clear moon wolf craftsmanship.

Ahote grinned. "You're very observant, Talisa. I can't decide if I hate that about you or love it. But I'm telling the truth. While we may have connections to one wandering group of castoffs, we do not have ships that can take you home. I wouldn't even know how to get you to a village that _did _have ships. And I wouldn't advise it," he said, glancing anxiously at Seleste. "It's dangerous out there. My lands might be the safest lands you'll ever know." So saying, Ahote turned and left the throne room.

Seleste and Talisa watched him go. Seleste didn't know why, but she felt a nagging ache for Ahote. The way he had looked at her . . . it had seemed so genuine, so earnest. He wanted her. Perhaps he always had. And his disdain in the past had been a result of his frustration.

"I know what you're thinking," Talisa said, and Seleste started as she was ripped from her reverie. "But we can't trust Ahote, simp. We can't. He's a liar."

"Why? Because he didn't tell you about every wolf his village knows?" Seleste rolled her eyes. "I swear, Talisa! Stop wearing jealousy, it doesn't become you --"

"Listen to me!" Talisa snapped. She glanced around as if fearful someone was listening, then she took Seleste by the shoulders and said in a low voice, "We are in deep shit here, Sel. Deep shit. We're in a foreign village - the customs of which we know nothing about - with a chief who has magical powers that can turn us to ash. Ahote can do whatever he wants with us, and there's nothing we can do about it. We have to find some way to escape!"

"Escape," Seleste repeated and laughed. "Talisa, Ahote isn't a slaver! We're not prisoners here! He has saved our hides a hundred times by now --"

"And evaporated his brothers to do it," Talisa said. "And now he's the new chief here. He could have done anything to his brothers, but he didn't have to kill them. He could have turned them into frogs, knocked them out, or made them float away like bubbles. But he killed them. He killed them without even _blinking _- Didn't you see the fury in his eyes!"

"Talisa, this is--!"

"Something tells me," said Talisa over her, "that Ahote killed them to become chief here. And he used us to do it! Think about it, Seleste! He could have stopped them taking us when we were outside. All he needed was a stick or that bent bucket handle he's been keeping behind his ear. Piff. He thinks I don't know, but I've seen it!"

"Maybe he had a good reason for killing them," Seleste insisted sulkily.

Talisa made an incredulous noise. "For someone who grew up in court, you sure don't seem to know much about it. Intrigue and betrayal. Ahote grew up in the midst of it, and he'll do whatever it takes to get what he wants. He killed them because he wanted to be chief. He killed them because he wanted you." She poked Seleste in the chest on the last word, then shook her head as if Seleste was hopeless and turned away.

"I'm sorry if I'm determined to see the good in him. I believe it's there."

"Even if I'm right?"

"Like you said, what choice do we have? We're stuck here. I'd rather be on good terms with him than spend however long we have to stay here bickering and fighting."

Talisa turned to her and smiled. "So you're wise to him after all?"

Seleste shook her head. "Maybe everything you've said is right. But I don't believe he's bad, Talisa. I grew up in court, I know the difference between gray and utter darkness."

Outside the curtain, Ahote smiled.

---

Seleste and Talisa spent many days among the plains wolves, and they were welcomed with open arms, were treated without suspicion or unkindness. The old females there were delighted to have two "prospective cheiftesses" in the village. They cared for Seleste and Talisa, bathing them and brushing their manes, rubbing them down with oils and dressing them in the seductive attire of princesses. Even Talisa had to admit that, distrust Ahote though she did, she and Seleste lived the good life in his underground palace.

"We thought a chief would never take the throne," one old female told Seleste as she brushed her mane. "But then you two came, and we knew it was going to happen. And very soon."

They were in the sleeping quarters Ahote had appointed for them: a lavish room full of perfumes, flowers, and pillows. Lace curtains hung about the bed, woven with flowers of pink and yellow, and an intricate bath had been carved out in the floor near the fire pit. The bath was lined with precious stones, and staring at the craftsmanship, Seleste knew that Ahote's family had hired moon wolves to come to their village on more than one occasion.

The bath was Talisa's favorite. She soaked in it, her head back and her eyes closed, as Seleste sat on the edge of the bath having her mane brushed.

"Why did you think that?" Seleste asked the old female. She sat with her eyes closed, a content smile on her lips.

The old female smiled. "Did you not notice, my child? There were seven princes! With that many heirs, it would be some time before one was left standing."

Seleste's eyes snapped open. "Left standing?"

"Yes," repeated the old wolf and laughed. "Isn't it the way in your village? Male heirs fight for the throne - be it a physical challenge, betrayal, or murder. And the one left standing, he is the new chief. It is a battle of wits and strength that our Ahote won most brilliantly."

Seleste looked at Talisa, whose face had darkened.

"And now," said another old female, who was laying out towels, "our Ahote will choose one of you to be his bride."

"Hmm, I wonder who he'll choose?" said Talisa sarcastically. Having her suspicions confirmed seemed to put her in a foul mood. She rose from the bath, the water plastering her fur slick to her curves. Water dripped from her dark nipples, slid over her buttocks and down her tail. She pushed her mane back, twisted the thick auburn curls, and rung them out. An old female wrapped her in a towel, and she stood with her arms out, her breasts jiggling as she allowed herself to be dried.

Watching from where she was seated, Seleste felt herself stir. Talisa was so beautiful sometimes, it was unreal. That tight, muscular body, those big high breasts, and the firm shape of her ass beneath her tail. Seleste eyed the cleft of Talisa's pussy and felt her heart skip a beat when Talisa put her foot on a chair to have her leg dried. Her pussy lips were momentarily split open, and Seleste could see the bulge of her clit. But Talisa's pretty face, it was tight with anger.

Seleste looked away. She knew what Talisa would say: Seleste should resist Ahote at all costs. And what about Keme? Keme for whom she ached so dismally each night? Just the other night she found herself crying in Talisa's arms. Talisa awoke to hear her sobs, and turning over, had held her. Seleste had explained that she hadn't been able to sleep because thoughts of MeRorr and Keme would not let her be. And she just didn't know what to do. Was there anything she could do?

Seleste looked dismally at Talisa, wishing that she could make her understand. Talisa seemed to think that Seleste had some ability to avoid a marriage to Ahote. The fact was, she didn't. That's what it meant to be a princess. What it always meant. And should she say no to Ahote, he would ask her what else she could possibly do. And he would be right. Her father was dead, her lover was dead, and she was in exile. She had no where to go, no one to stand with her. She had thought for so long that she could be happy with Keme, but it seemed he too was gone. Gone so soon! And what else could she do but pick up the pieces and start over? The longer they stayed in the plains, the more she thought of starting over with Ahote.

Just the other day, Ahote had taken them on a tour of his village. Talisa later grumbled that he had done it in an attempt to make them stay, to show them the vast riches, the wonderful life that could be theirs. He took them to his family's treasury room, he showed them the lavish underground apartments lit by candlelight, the endless wealth of food in the palace kitchens, all the trinkets and knick knacks that his "wandering" source had brought. Life in the plains was a quiet life of wealth and bliss and he was offering that to them.

Talisa followed Ahote on the tour, her arms folded under her breasts, a look of stubborn indifference on her face. She wanted to go back to the sun village and continued to say so each time Ahote dropped a hint about them staying. Ahote would then turn his efforts to Seleste and proceeded to woo her with gifts, kisses on her paw, the occasion look of doting love. This infuriated Talisa, who did her best to make it clear that Seleste was coming with her when they decided to set out.

But Seleste was finding that the longer she stayed with Ahote, the less she wanted to leave. Her favorite part of the tour was when they went to the surface. There, little pups laughed and played in the sunlight, running to tackle their fathers as they returned from the hunt with rabbit, with fish, with the golden deer of the plains on their shoulders. Females carried pups in baskets on their backs as they picked the fruit of the plains from the trees, and old males lounged about in the sunlight, smoking pipes, sharing stories, and whiling away their twilight years in utter content. It was wonderful, it was beautiful, and for Seleste, it was like being home. She didn't realize until that moment how desperately she had missed the summer village!

"I'm going to bed," Talisa said coldly. She marched past Seleste, passing her towel to a waiting female. "It's late," she said. "You should too."

Seleste shook her head. "I can't sleep. There's . . . there's so much on my mind."

Talisa halted beside the bed. "You're going to him again, aren't you?"

Seleste looked guiltily away. It was true. She had been seeing Ahote for several nights now. But always, they just talked. Sometimes he took her out under the stars, and they would lie there, and she would tell him about the summer village and how beautiful it was and how much she missed it. She never told him about the differing customs, though. She thought that somehow it might anger him. She didn't want Ahote to think she was trying to influence his rule or change his customs. He seemed to sense this, and thus, he never asked.

Seleste didn't answer Talisa. She bowed her head and looked at the water. Her long, pale mane swung forward to hide her expression. She heard the exasperation in Talisa's voice when she said, "Fine!" and climbed into bed.

Seleste swallowed thickly and didn't know why she felt so guilty. Talisa's anger was a constant reminder that somewhere out there, Keme could still be alive. She thought of her blanket, of how it had washed up on the shore. Like Talisa, she had thought it meant that Keme was alive, that he had come for her. Now she was starting to think it meant something else entirely. Perhaps it meant he had died in the storm, trying to find her. Seleste closed her eyes. As much as she didn't want that to be true, she was starting to understand that she might have to accept it as true.

Seleste stood and quietly asked that the old maids dress her. She closed her eyes and smiled as they hurried to obey. It had been so long since she'd worn proper princess attire! It felt so good to have her breasts covered, to have her sex covered from the prying eyes of lusty males. The skirt they adorned her in was woven of transparent silk, straight from the moon village. It was the fashion there. Enough pretty blue layers hid her sex well, and only her legs were revealed in the long slits that cut up the sides. She held her mane out of the way as the doting maids fastened on the silver necklace Ahote had made for her. A single diamond hung from the band, which he said was added because it reminded him of her pale, pretty eyes.

With bracelets clinking on her wrists and ankles, Seleste swished from the room in her silken veils, never noticing the amused looks the maids exchanged behind her. She passed up the dark hall, and the guards on patrol there nodded respectfully. Seleste smiled from behind her long mane. Her mane was now shiny and slick with oils and fell away behind her shoulders, where the ends brushed her swaying tail.

Ahote's room was not far from their own. Talisa had pointed this out, expressing her suspicion that Ahote had positioned them close in order to eavesdrop. Seleste had thought the same thing, but she didn't care. She knew what it was like to grow up in a world where ones own sibling might stab one in their sleep. So Ahote was cautious? So what? She wouldn't hold that against him.

Seleste reached Ahote's room and paused nervously outside the curtain. She had never done this before, coming to his room late at night. She wasn't sure why she was doing it. Certainly, such a thing could send out the wrong signals. But she wanted to talk to him. She was anxious and scared and didn't know what do. Should she keep waiting pointlessly for Keme or should she settle down here? She had already decided that Ahote's actions that night would decide her fate.

Taking a breath, Seleste knocked on the wall near the curtain. A moment later, and Ahote's groggy voice demanded to know who it was at that hour. Seleste smiled. So he'd been sleeping. She had half expected him to be up with one of his concubines . . .

"It's me," Seleste called.

"Sel--Seleste? One second!"

Seleste held back her giggles. He sounded so boyish and eager. She once again had to wonder about his age. He seemed so much younger than her, perhaps sixteen or seventeen summers. But for someone so young, there was no doubting his ambition. Or his skill. She had not forgotten his magical touch.

A moment later and the curtain was pulled aside. Ahote stood draped in a white silk robe. It hung open around his chest but was tied shut over his waist. Ah, so all that scurrying had been him getting decent? Seleste wanted to laugh at him. She had seen him naked so many times!

"I'm chief now," Ahote said, as if he'd read her thoughts in her laughing eyes. "I must wear the ceremonial - oh, what do you want?" he finished irritably, for Seleste had burst into giggles.

"I'm sorry," Seleste said, putting a slender paw to her giggling mouth. "I'm just so used to you being naked . . . now you wear all these skirts and feathered capes and things. Only my bodyguards ever covered their penises. Even my father went around exposed. It's custom in the summer village for a chief to show off his . . . glory."

It was Ahote's turn to laugh. "You're cute," he said, watching her in amusement. "But what do you want?"

When it didn't look as if Ahote was going to invite her in, Seleste moved past him into the room. He let the curtain fall behind her, but he remained near the doorway, watching her curiously.

"To talk to you," Seleste said. She wandered about the room, admiring all the little trinkets and carvings. Ahote's room was magnificent, even more so than hers. A similar bath had been carved out in the floor, and a fire pit was located near a few fur-covered chairs. Various daggers and knives were displayed on the walls, and Seleste realized they were Ahote's magic "wands." He must have ordered them especially from the moon village.

"For someone whose family did so much trading with the moon village, it's kind of odd that you wouldn't know how to get there."

Behind her, Ahote snorted and folded his arms. "So you came to fling your suspicions at me? Typical. But I told you the truth: I don't know how to get there. My family's been trading with traveling moon wolf merchants for generations. It's how I got packed off to the slavers: my brothers made a deal with them and I was tricked into meeting them out by the sea. They killed my bodyguards - males I had known my entire life! Knocked me out, raped me . . . No one can blame me for my rage when I returned here. And they were foolish enough to think I had no clue what they'd done when I returned!"

Ahote sounded so bitter and sullen that Seleste glanced guilty over her shoulder at him. "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean . . ."

Ahote shook his head and moved wearily into the room. "It's alright," he told her and smiled. He seated himself in a chair near the barren fire pit. He extended his arm and Seleste watched with round eyes as fire sprang from his fingers. The flames darted to the waiting logs in the pit and light danced through the room, quickly devouring the light of the few candles there.

"Minor magic," he said. "No daggers or staffs needed."

The fire was purple. Seleste watched it in wonder. She had only seen the like once before: when she was a child, Zaldon conjured purple fire at a festival in the summer village, and around it, he told the village a story. It was a custom, he later told her, that he had learned from a very isolated tribe.

Seleste sat in a chair near Ahote, and she did it so absently, she nearly missed her seat. Ahote laughed.

"You never seen purple fire before?" he asked her in amusement.

Seleste shook her head and her ears flopped. "No, I've seen it. It just reminded me of home." She smiled into the distance as she remembered. "Purple fire was how I got my nickname. There was this sorcerer who used to visit my village. He was a good friend of my family. His mother was famous for her carvings, and that was how he came to know my fath --"

Seleste didn't finish her sentence, for Ahote had risen from his seat. He went to a shelf carved in the wall. There were many little trinkets on the shelf. He took one down, and when he returned to Seleste, he offered it to her. It was an exquisite ivory carving of a flower. Only winter wolves knew how to carve ivory so perfectly.

Seleste carefully took the carving and stared at it in amazement. So Joli's carvings had even reached this remote place? As Ahote had explained it, his lands were in a far corner of the world, which was terribly far from the summer village - or nearly any village.

Ahote sat in his chair again, and his fingers absently touched his lips as he watched Seleste's amazement in amusement.

"Famous in every sense of the word," he said. "My mother loved her carvings dearly. Had them all over the palace. You were saying?"

"Oh," Seleste blinked as she remembered. She held the carving carefully in her slender fingers as she said, "The sorcerer came to one of our festivals and ignited a purple fire like yours. He told a story around it. I must've been three at the time. I sat on my father's knee listening, and as the sorcerer spun his tale, creatures took shape in the purple smoke. It was the best festival we'd ever had because of him. I brought the sorcerer a flower to thank him. And after that, he called me Little Flower." Remembering Zaldon's affectionate pat on her tousled three-year-old head, Seleste laughed.

"Little flower," Ahote said, still watching her in amusement.

Seleste passed the carving back to him, but he closed her paws over it and whispered, "No. Keep it."

Startled, Seleste blinked. But she smiled at him warmly and cradled the carving to her breasts.

Ahote rose from his seat and went to the fire, his paws behind his back, his back to her. "If not to remember me by," he added quietly. "So you just wanted to talk to me?"

"I enjoy talking to you," Seleste said, as if he should have known better.

"I was hoping . . ." Ahote stopped and shook his head dismally. "Nothing," he said in a low, bitter voice.

"Hoping what? That I had come to accept your proposal?"

Ahote spun around. "Well, why don't you? What's holding you back? What's keeping you from me?" He offered his paws, as if he was helpless. "What have I done wrong? Have I not made you happy? Is it Talisa? She doesn't want to stay and you'd miss her, I know. And she also just . . . hates my guts."

Seleste gave something that was half a laugh, half a sob. _No, it's the fact that I love someone else - and I don't know if he's alive or dead! _Seleste looked down and fiddled with the carving in an attempt to discreetly blink back tears. When she didn't look up, Ahote knelt before her chair. His brows pressed together. "You're crying," he whispered and wiped away her tear. "But why?"

Seleste shook her head furiously and her mane tumbled in her eyes. Ahote pushed it back.

"Is it MeRorr?" he whispered. "You don't think he'd approve?"

One dismal night, she had told him about MeRorr. But she hadn't told him about Keme. She didn't think she should, and Talisa told her she was wise not to do so.

"Seleste," Ahote said in exasperation, "please stop crying. Please tell me what to do!" More tears trickled down her cheeks. One fell over her lip, and he dabbed it with his thumb. She kissed his thumb. He looked at her, startled. Her gray eyes shone with desire through her tears. Ahote and his thick neck, his rippling belly, his handsome face and earnest golden eyes. The paw that touched her face was so large. She found herself drinking in his tight thighs. Her eyes wandered up his thighs to his crotch, hidden behind the layers of silk robe tied there.

"Seleste?" He was still frowning and worried. He cupped her face and she nuzzled her cheek against his touch. She closed her eyes as he stroked her mane back over her shoulder.

Setting the carving aside, Seleste sank forward out of her chair and into his lap. He blinked at her in surprise. She pulled the robe down around his broad shoulders and smoothed her paw over the hard muscles of his chest and belly. Her eyes drank him in, wide and admiring. He knelt with her in his lap and swallowed nervously when she put his paws on her hips.

"But - what are we doing here?" he said, stopping her small paws when they went to untie his robe. "Are you accepting my proposal? Are you my bride?"

Seleste smiled. "Yes."

Ahote closed his eyes and dropped his forehead against hers, almost as if he was relieved. His thumb touched her lip a moment, then his tongue thrust in her mouth. She hugged his neck and kissed him back. Her clit swelled when his paws fumbled to remove her princess attire. He briskly untied the silk cloth tied back over her breasts, and as her small, trembling breasts bounced free, she pulled his robe open around the erection he could no longer hide. He moaned as her slender body shifted in his lap, and then she slid her wet pussy down on him, consuming his erection in its warmth, in its wetness, in its tight, clasping muscles.

He held her tight and kissed her and whispered of love. He thought she was crying for joy, gasping with sobs for her pleasure. And she was. But Seleste also knew she was crying because of Keme. The fact that she was willing to marry Ahote meant one dismal, heart shattering reality had finally hit her: Keme was dead.

"I can't believe it," Ahote whispered in her ear. "You're really going to marry me?"

Seleste laughed at his amazement. As their bodies moved in fluid motion together, she kissed him and whispered, "Yes, I'll marry you, Ahote."