the will of water

Would you like to bump this into the present?

"Ame," Akhlut tested the name on his tongue, and it sounded rather French, like Aimée. His voice had deepened and softened, without any concious volition, and warmth suffused his words as he spoke again, so pleased was he that she would come and see his home for herself. "It will be more than worth your time. I think you won't want to leave." After a pause, the male admitted with a secretive smile, "I'm not certain that I'll be able to let you leave."

Would he? Surely his conscience would demand that he should, but the yearnings of heart and of nether regions protested and argued he should keep her with him, guard her zealously, once he got her back to his own home, the lands that were marked with his scent and his urine and all the pheromones and chemical messages of his kingship. And perhaps the allure of youth, confidence, and power would keep her there of her own accord. Akhlut hoped it might, as he turned and made to lead her back to Horizon Ridge, moving to touch his nose gently along her flank as he passed.