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“No one, meu inimă, only you. You will not be able to do this with anyone else as well,” Fane stated possessively.

“Talk to you later, be safe,” Fane told her.

And just like that she “felt” him leave her, and fell instantly bereft. She undressed and, without looking into the mirror, got into the steamy hot shower, letting it wash the feeling away. It was silly to feel so empty without him in her mind, she knew that, and yet she couldn’t shake it off. It just seemed so natural to talk to him, like she had done it all her life. She found it so odd that she was jealous at idea of him talking to another girl through her thoughts. She had only known him a day, after all, but the thought irked her to no measure. Ok, Jacque, she told herself, move on to another topic. She hadn’t heard from Sally and figured she’d better call her to make sure she was still going to be able to come over.

She got out of the shower and toweled dry, flipping her hair over and drying it first, then standing upright to dry her body. Turning to look into the mirror, she froze. Then, without realizing she had done it, she reached for Fane’s mind. “Fane, what the h.e.l.l is on my back!”

No answer.

Slowly calming down, she began to examine the design that looked like a tattoo. The thing ran from shoulder to shoulder and up her neck. It was scrolled lines arching and curving, coming to a point at the nape of her neck, with definite places that appeared would fit into a puzzle. It was very beautiful and feminine – it was also very not there before she tanned. Had Fane done some Romanian voodoo on her? ‘Cause she would so do some voodoo up on his a.s.s if he had.

He still hadn’t responded to her after a few minutes, so Jacque got dressed and combed out her wet hair and put mousse in it. She went back to her room, still trying to think about how the marks could have appeared on her back when her phone rang. For a fleeting moment she hoped it was Fane, but that would be ridiculous when he could just talk through his thoughts. Shaking her head in frustration, she answered the phone.

“So I’m thinking bikini, towel, tunes, and catching rays. You in?” Sally’s cheerful voice came through the phone.

“You’re a little late, Charlie Brown. I’ve already cooked, rotated, and cooked some more. I just got out of the shower. So I a.s.sume you are going to be able to come over soon?” Jacque asked, relief in her voice.

“That’s the rumor. You free?” Sally asked.

“Free, crazy, completely deranged…take your pick.” Jacque answered.

“I’m on my way over now, be there in five.” Sally hung up.

Jacque looked around her room and decided to pick up from the impromptu sleepover. She folded the blankets and laid them on the bed. No sense in putting them away since the girls were staying the night again. She picked up the dirty clothes on the floor and threw them in the laundry basket. Her mind was restless and she decided to write her thoughts out. Sometimes writing down what was floating around upstairs helped her put things in perspective.

She got out a notepad from school and opened to a blank page, grabbed a pen off her desk, and sat down on her bed and began to write.

I’ve met a guy. Not just any guy but a really unusual one. He’s from Romania. He is beautiful, and he can talk to me through my thoughts, and I can talk back. It’s so unreal. To top it all off, I have these strange markings on my back that came out of nowhere. I don’t know what to even begin to think about the whole thing. But I know for the sake of my waning sanity I need to talk to him face to face and see if he will answer any of my questions. My other problem is I seem to be…

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