He stuck to the shadows. Before disappearing in the jungle, he cast her a glance. Shivers raced down her spine and contradictory urges hit her, one after the other. She wanted him to rush back. She wanted him to stay gone and never return. She wanted everything. She wanted nothing.

Why am I so conflicted about this man? Nola recalled what he’d told her immediately following their kiss: I prefer warrior women.

Translation: You, Nola Lee, do not even qualify as spank bank fodder.

The hurt she’d experienced... While he’d found her lacking, she’d found him irresistible. When they’d kissed, she’d lost control. Sickness hadn’t been a blip. For a moment, Bane had become her reason for breathing. But she would never be his reason for breathing. The honor would always belong to his beloved wife.

Jealous of a dead woman?

Seriously, one kiss and a little light groping, and Nola turned into a sex-starved fatal attraction wannabe?

The thought resurrected a good mad—at Bane. How dare he make her crave him like this!

With a huff, Nola went looking for the first aid kit. She found it partially buried beside a fallen trunk, complete with rags, bandages, different ointments and clean clothes. Also present, a set of daggers. Nola slung a dagger to her calf, hidden by her pants.

Struggling and straining, she rolled a large rock under the tarp, so Bane would have a chair while she doctored—and questioned—him. The stubborn man would chat with her whether he wanted to or not.

When he returned at last, she drank him in. Too gorgeous for his own good. Her body came alive, heating, tingling, needing; he had awakened a sexual beast inside her. Maybe because he looked crazed with lust, his gaze glued to her as he prowled closer, a predator intent on running his prey to ground.

He’d taken a dip in the water. His hair was drenched, blood and dirt washed away.

“No bombs or traps,” he said, his voice a harsh lash. A few of his injuries had already healed, his broken rib among them. But fresh blood trickled from his shoulder. “No sign of any recent visitors.”

“Good. Now sit.” She waved to the rock, then blinked with surprise when he obeyed. Must remember to phrase my words as a suggestion, not an order. “I’ll patch you up, and we’ll get to know each other better. If you’re to think the worst of me, you should get to know me first, so I’ll start.”

He gave a clipped nod, but remained silent. His crazed edge had dulled, as if her nearness had soothed him. Things were changing between them.

Where to begin? “Something specific you’d like to know?”

“Tell me anything, everything.” Tension emanated from him. “I find I am...curious about you.”