He lifted his fingers and looked down at them, glistening with honey. She looked, as well. “You should wash them,” she said quietly. He should. There was a bathtub full of water mere feet away. And a washbasin and fresh water even closer. But he did not go to either. Instead, he lifted his hand to his mouth and licked the honey from his fingers, meeting her eyes. Willing her to look away. Her eyes widened. Darkened. But did not waver. It was then that he knew. If he kissed her, she would not stop him. And if he kissed her, he would not stop. Dangerous Daughter, indeed.
