Chapter 6: Pompous

Perplexity is the beginning of knowledge. - Kahlil Gibran

Pushing the bathroom door closed, the click of the electrical lock engages. I'm sure it's only a formality because he can unlock the door. The thought doesn't instill confidence.

I lean my fuzzy head on the bathroom door.

Why can he hear my thoughts? But more importantly, how the hell do I stop it?

The skin on my face and neck tingles where he touched me.

Letting out a ragged breath, I shiver, partly because of the chill on my skin, but more so, because of the reaction my body has to him: his touch, his voice, his all-consuming presence.

The room opens into a long walkway that has walls that bow out like a half-circle on the left-hand side. And the right has a fifteen foot long countertop with double vanities, extending the length of the walkway. Odd-looking circular lights recess into the top of the rounded ceiling.

I run an unsteady hand over the smooth walls and countertops. Carved of solid bedrock, the surface smoothed and buffed, glisten.

'The shower stall is to the left-hand side of the hallway. There are clean towels and washcloths on the towel rack next to the shower. Plus, you will find shampoo, conditioner, and soap in the stall.'

"Yeah, okay, thanks."

'If you require assistance with any of your grooming needs, or for any other services or needs you may desire, you know how to reach me.' His smug voice echoes in my thoughts.

"Trust me. I don't need or want your help. You know, you're a pompous ass. Anyone ever tell you that?" Geez, why are the cute ones always asses?

'I'll give you your privacy. However, you really need to work on shielding your thoughts. Plus, sarcasm does not become you.' He pauses. 'And Sarah, I also find you attractive. Now, take your shower and dress.'

My thoughts clear and I no longer feel as if I'm in a bubble underwater. Sitting on the countertop, I contemplate my next move.

He has me trapped in his living quarters. I can't pick the lock to the front door because it's electronic. There has to be another way - something I'm missing - but what?

How long are they going to keep me here? And where exactly is here? God, a warm shower, and dry clothing would be nice, but is it safe?

I take a deep breath and sigh. If Vlad intended to hurt me, he had plenty of opportunities before now.

'Did you hear me? Take your shower. I will not tell you again.'

"Yeah, I heard you." I shake my head. How much of my thoughts can he actually hear? "Thanks for the so-called privacy. But it doesn't seem all that private at the moment."

The memory of his lips on my neck and his touch on my skin replays in my mind.

'That is because I can still hear your inner thoughts, and lots of them, including how my lips on your flesh made you feel, which is extremely distracting.' His voice conveys a smile. 'And you are right, if I had intended to hurt you, I would have done so in the water.'

"Yeah. I can really feel the privacy. Now, get the hell out of my head."

'Hmm. More sarcasm. You seem braver with a door between us. But as you pointed out earlier, the lock is only a false sense of security.'

"If you really want me to bathe and change, this conversation is not helping to move me in that general direction."

'Point taken.'

Taking several uneasy steps, I look through the opening to the left of the hallway to view the shower.

My breath hitches in the back of my throat. I'm speechless. It's twice the size of my bedroom back home.

In the middle of the room is a circular, egg-shaped structure. It has to be the shower because the only towel rack in the room is next to it.

On the other side of the silver and black structure, I touch a sleek surface and a door slides open. "Okay. That's different."

Reaching into the stall, I turn the showerhead on, and then exit the egg room.

My feet drum against the cool floor. Stepping through the doorway, I make my way along the long narrow hallway.

Plopped on the counter next to the sink, legs dangling, I wait for the water to warm. My eyes, scratchy and itchy, remind me of how tired my body feels.

Leaning forward, I raise a hand to my right lower lid and pinch the edge of the blue contact between my thumb and index finger.

Anchored on the back of the vanity sets a green ornate dish holding paper towels. Pulling a sheet free of the rectangular container, I unfold it and spread it out on top of the smooth countertop. Placing the soft lens on the paper, I repeat the process with the left.

Gazing in the mirror, light pink, bloodshot eyes stare back. I pull the ponytail holder out of my wet, wavy hair. My eyes water and tears spill over onto my face.

Has my father realized I'm not home?

I think of Mr. Jackson, rocking on his front porch. Will he tell my father about my nightly rides - where I was headed? I don't even know where I am, or if I'm anywhere near Chase Pond.

The warmth of my breath fogs the mirror. Huffing, I march back into the egg room with the bag. First, I remove my hoodie and T-shirt, then slide off my sweatpants and shorts.

Wet clothing folded, I place them on the corner of the chair. Slipping out of my undergarments, I tuck them into the pockets of my jacket before stepping into the shower stall.

The water is warm. It's a welcome change from the cold.

Moving my head from side to side, water cascades down my body. The shampoo and conditioner are on a built-in shelf. I grab the shampoo. It smells like jasmine. Pouring it into my hand, I scrub away the remnants of Chase Pond from my hair then condition.

Under the nozzle, water cascading, I rinse the last of the conditioner out of my hair and the soap from my body.

'You okay?'

Vlad's voice in my head makes me flinch. Quickly, I turn off the faucet and grab a towel.

"Are you all right?" His voice echoes through the egg room.

Great! It's not enough that he's in my head, but now he has to pipe his voice through the room too.

Looking up at the ceiling, I wonder if there're cameras. The thought makes me blush, and I dry off quickly.

A door slamming makes me jump, and my heartbeat quickens.

'There are not any cameras in the - wait, what did you call it - the egg room.'

His voice sounds close. Crap. I think he's in the hallway.

"I'm dressing. I'll be out in a moment."

Wrapping my fingers around the handles of the bag, I lift it up, turning it upside down over a small table.

A pair of faded jeans, a teal T-shirt, and undergarments tumble out onto the dry, sleek surface. Tags dangle off the matching white bra and panty set.

After removing the tags, I slip the items on. Reaching for the shirt, I pull it over my head then unfold the jeans. I'm surprised to find they're the right size. Unbuttoning them, I slide my feet into the leg holes.

Feather-soft footsteps drum against the floor.

I yank the pants up and over my hips.

'Are you ready?' He's standing on the other side of the shower.

"Do you know the definition of privacy?" I zip and button the jeans.

'It is the state or condition of being free of the presence of unsanctioned intrusion.' He grins. 'This is my living space. Therefore, I am not conducting an unsanctioned act of intrusion. Plus, you had ample time to shower and dress.'

"Stay out of my head."

'If you do not want me in there, then you should learn to sever the connection or block me from your thoughts.'

His voice booms in my mind, making my head swim. My vision blurs. Reaching out, I grab the frame of the shower stall.

"Please. Stop doing that." The world around me spins, making my stomach lurch. "It makes me dizzy."

'Telepathy is disorienting until you grow accustomed to it.' Vlad voices, softly in my thoughts. "But if it will make the adjustment easier, I will speak to you both ways, for now. Is that what you want?" His voice is deep and rumbles in his chest.

"Why not just verbally?"

"Because you must practice both channeling and concealing your thoughts." He cups my chin. 'Why do you wear contacts? Is it to correct your field of sight?'

"No. I have good vision. But they help me see things better, clearer, since they're colored."

He turns on the overhead light.

"They help with light sensitivity, too." I raise a hand and squint.

'Will you put them back on?'

"No. I don't have cleaning solution or eye drops."

"I have sunglasses." He turns off the light. 'Will they help?'

"Yes. In brighter light they will." His intense stare makes me uncomfortable, and I fidget with my shirt. "I never let people see me without contacts."

"Leave your wet clothing. The staff will launder it." He studies my face. "Come with me. I have dry shoes for you in the living room." He extends a hand, waiting for me to take it. 'And you should not feel vulnerable because you are different. You do not have to hide who you are, at least, not from me.'

"That's not fair. You shouldn't read my thoughts without my permission. They're private."

"Turning them off or shielding them is not my responsibility. It is yours. Plus, your thoughts have been loud for a while" He moves his fingers in a come-hither motion. 'But it appears others in my colony cannot hear you as I do. Now, you must practice channeling your thoughts. I have already told you this.'

"What do you mean?" I back up, hands on my hips. "Are you implying you've listened to my thoughts before?"

"Yes. I know you fairly well. I have heard your thoughts for months." He smiles. "You frequent the pond to jog often, which is why I was there last night." He takes a step closer and extends his hand once more. 'I knew the minute you crossed over the gate with Morph.'

Hesitantly, I place my hand on his.

An electrical current surges through my fingertips and up my arm.

He looks at me with smoldering eyes, then guides me out of the bathroom and into the living room.

"You may sit." He motions to the sofa. "I shall return momentarily." Without waiting for a response or acknowledgement or any reaction from me, he strolls into an adjacent hallway.