Melinda's growing acceptance of Dalindme and all that was between them brought a kind of ease and peace to her features that was moor then a little bit becoming. Washing away her had het shed more then just tear stains and Dalindme brightened yet again. He took great pleasure from the way she seemed to be releasing her pain and suffering. As he wrapped his arm around her and nestled her against his feet warm body she felt his delight bubbling through their soul bond. He leaned down a bit add she took ahold of his hand and spoke the word that named it. Her dainty, delicate digits were dwarfed by his strong, thick fingers which he flexed and straightened, lightly playing then along Melinda's in a soft caress. "Hand," he repeated, pretty much getting the word right the first time he said it.<br/><br/>A low sound rumbled in his chest, rich with pleasure and perhaps a hint of something like lust in it, as he held Melinda near. There was nothing demanding or urgent in it, but he was male and she was lovely, naked and near. Different though they may be, he was not immune to get feminine charms. Unlike her experience with Thomas and there thoughts of Whitechapel, she'd full knowledge that he would never take from het anything she didn't care to give, ever. Still, Dalindme was a creature without shame or civility, so like everything else about him, was open about the desire growing in him for her.<br/><br/>So it was with an impish glow in his eyes that he brought their hands towards his lips. He opened his mouth and rows off razor sharp teeth were revealed. He went to nip lightly at the tip of het longest finger as he  murmured, "hand," again as if he were just continuing the lesson, but a merry kind of mischief shivered song the emotional bond between them.