To Love and To Leave

2: Strangers

She jolted out of her bad dreams with a gasp. Cam's eyes darted around the room, looking for a potential threat like the hideous beast from her nightmare. Though she didn't see a scary gang leader, she did realize this room wasn't hers. For one, this bed was huge. Way bigger than the twin-sized mattress back in her apartment, which also didn't happen to rest on a four-poster frame. Then there was the brown walls and a design on the ceiling that seemed to be a forest painted out of tans and whites. A wood nightstand stood on either side of the bed and a matching dresser was pressed against the opposite wall. The room was simple and dark. She wondered if it was possibly a man's room.

What did I do last night? she thought in panic.

A headache sprouted in her right lobe and then she felt an intense throbbing in the side of her neck. She pressed her fingers against the throbbing. The skin there felt strange. Oddly smooth in two little circles.

Where am I? she wondered while dropping her hand and sliding off the bed. She was dressed in a silk, mocha-colored nightgown with a neckline of lace. While it was undeniably cute and even borderline risqué, she knew it certainly was not hers. The throbbing grew worse as she stumbled over to the nearest door.

Behind it was a bathroom. A very large bathroom, to say the least. It was made out of a blend of rock and black-speckled cream granite. Cam was still ogling the claw-foot tub when a voice from the bedroom made her jump.

"Mate?" the man called.

She spun around. The man wasn't in sight yet, so she attempted to scamper across the bathroom to hide behind the tub. A moment later the man's shoes clapped across the bathroom's tiled floor. She gulped.

"You're hiding behind the tub," he stated. "I know. You can't hide from me."

Feeling foolish, Cam slowly rose to her feet. She crossed her arms over her chest to hide her breasts from his view. He was attractive. His lean shape was clothed in dark wash jeans, brown boots, a brown leather jacket, and some graphic t-shirt beneath it. The hardest thing to look at was his face with those obsidian eyes daring her to move. His light brown hair was unkempt and fluffy, probably in need of a trim. His face was marked by a sharp nose and cheekbones. There didn't seem to be any trace of hair on his face, in spite of the amount on top of his head.

"Who are you?" she asked. "And where am I?"

"You are in my house," he replied, voice deep and rough. "My name is Logan. It's a long story of how and why you're here. But you're here and that's what counts. Okay?"

Her brows furrowed. That's what counts? What a douche.

"Now," he continued, "I didn't have the opportunity to ask what your name was between biting your neck and fighting off that idiot last night, so you'll have to enlighten me."

As her eyes widened in alarm, she reached up to touch the aching spot. "You bit me?"

"Like I said, long story. Melody brought some ibuprofen over this morning, so you can have some of that. Should help. Anyway, do not disregard my question." He didn't take those burning chocolate eyes off of her even for a moment. "What. Is. Your. Name."

"Camila Wesson," she told him. "But I still don't understand. How did I get here?"

He blew out an annoyed sigh. "Don't make me repeat myself again."

"I know you said it's a long story, but I think I should know how I got here."

"You really don't need to know. It's not important. What is important, like I said, is that you're here now."

"Maybe I don't want to be wherever 'here' is."

Her comment made him bristle. His jaw clenched and he balled his hands into fists. "Well, isn't that unfortunate," he spat, "because my little mate isn't going anywhere, anytime soon."

"I don't even know you," she said, incredulous. "And you don't know me. Why would you want to keep me here?"

It certainly wasn't because she was stunningly beautiful or whatever other excuse douchey creeps had to kidnap women. Not unless big bad Logan was into an abundance of curves and freckles.

"It's a long story—I already told you that!" He dragged his fingers through his unruly hair. For a minute, she almost thought his fingers were claws, but she knew she must have been seeing things. "Why do you keep trying to make me repeat myself? Huh?"

"Because you are incredibly vague!"

He glared down at the floor to seemingly gather himself before turning around with a huff. "Follow me right now, or I am going to shove you against the damn wall and probably break your damn spine."

Her jaw reeled shut. Would he really do that? She shuffled after him into the bedroom, arms crossed over her chest. A pair of sweatpants and a baggy men's shirt were resting on the dresser. Logan handed the clothes over and Cam blushed when she felt his gaze roam down her body.

"Make it quick, mate," he said. "I have places to be."

Although she briefly considered sneaking out the window, she knew she at least had to change out of the nightgown before doing so. It would only slow her down. So she dressed into the oversized clothes and tiptoed over to the window. She pushed the curtain aside and attempted to lift the sill, but it was locked. The damn lock was too high for her to reach.

Another knock at the door made her realize she'd have to wait for another opportunity. He said he had places to be, didn't he? Maybe this Melody girl would let her go home. Surely Adrian, her roommate, would be worried.

She left the bedroom and found Logan in the hall. Nodding in approval, he turned and walked into the open floor plan of a small house. The living room had a weathered black leather couch, a ratty rug, two mismatching recliners, and a flat screen propped up on a metal stand. She looked around in disgust. No aesthetic appeal or design whatsoever. Men lived like such animals.

Logan led her to the front door and pulled it open, forcing her to duck under his arm to get by. She was partly wondering why she wasn't freaking out about all of this. After all, she had no clue where she was or who Logan was.

A white sedan idled in the driveway next to a black sports car. It looked like a BMW or something. While she began to contemplate how he could afford such a nice car, a young girl stepped out of the white sedan. She was also short, like Cam, with long and curly black hair. Her blue eyes sparkled with warmth.

"Hi!" she called excitedly. "My name is Melody."

"Meet my...er, cousin," Logan told Cam. "She's going to take you back to our...family house. They're going to watch after you."

"Watch after?" Cam looked between the strangers with an incredulous expression on her face. "I don't need to be babysat. I'm a grown woman. I just want to go home."

"And, mate, I told you that wasn't an option. If you make me repeat myself one more time—"

"Oh, get over yourself, Logan," Melody growled playfully. "You're going to love our family, Cam! They'll take such good care of you."

I realized I couldn't go home, not right this minute anyway. Neither Logan nor Melody were interested in taking me home from wherever this place was. These people, whoever they were, had lost their minds.