Oh, yes. Things were definitely changing. As Nola used a rag to rinse the blood and dirt from Bane’s wounds, trying not to drool over his muscles, she said, “I’m twenty-two. I bake the best donuts you’ve ever tasted, I have a singing voice Vale calls Cats Being Murdered and the dance moves of an angel...on crack.”

The barest hint of an almost-smile teased his lips, enchanting her.

Nola had wanted to see a real one so danged bad. A mistake. With only a small lip-quirk, he’d stolen her wits and reminded her body of all the pleasure she’d missed throughout her life...the pleasure she could have with him.

I prefer warrior women.

He had a type, and Nola would never qualify. Got it. Or, was his taste in females changing?

She trembled, but continued on, saying, “I only graduated high school because a kind foster mom homeschooled me when I was too sick to attend class.” Her heart squeezed inside her chest. “All right. Tell me something about you.”

“I was twenty-two over twenty-two centuries ago.”

“Yes, we’ve already established that you’re as old as Father Time and should be wearing diapers. What else you got?”

He thought for a minute. “In Adwaeweth, males are removed from their homes as young children to begin training for war. At sixteen, our beasts awaken and we train another ten years, learning to control it.”

Such a sad life. He’d been raised for war, never asked how he envisioned his future. She sympathized. Lupus and fibro had negated her sense of choice, too. “Look at that. We have something in common. We both grew up without parents, our lives preplanned for us.”

“I suspect your life might have been...tougher than mine.”

What? Had Mr. Hate Weak and Fragile just acknowledged her trials and tribulations, maybe kinda sorta admitting there were different kinds of strength?

“Tell me about your wife.” On her knees, with her body situated between his legs, she applied salve to the wounds on his torso, and the one in his shoulder. “How’d you meet her?”

He cast his gaze somewhere far, far away. “Every Adwaewethian belongs to one of five factions. The royals, the warriors, the breeders, the scholars and the laborers. Meredith and I were both warriors, part of the same military unit. For many years, we fought side by side. Later, we realized we loved each other.”

“What caused the realization of love?” she asked.

Another slight quirk. “During training, a soldier knocked down Meredith and stomped on her ankle. She got up and continued to fight. He knocked her down again, but again, she rose. I couldn’t look away. Such an indomitable spirit and unbending strength humbled me. When I offered aid, she punched me in the face.”