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I barely get my answer out when I find myself swooped into Cedric’s arms and placed tenderly on the bed.
Cedric sits in front of me as I cross my legs and scoot to the middle of the bed.
“Um, how do you know my name?” I ask, curious as to how.
“Seen pictures of you, Arwen, and I know your brothers,” he answers, and panic starts to sink in again.
I hope he hasn’t called them.
“Don’t worry, baby, I wanted to wait for you to wake up before I spoke with Danti,” he says calmly, though his eyes seem to be taking in everything about me. “I’m gonna be real with you, Arwen. With the way I found you last night, I’m not about to let you out of my sight. Don’t ask me why, but know this, I’ll never hurt you. I also won’t let anyone else touch another hair on your beautiful head.”
Oh wow.
I don’t think anyone’s ever said anything so possessive, yet sweet to me. It’s always been cruel and harmful.
For some reason, hearing Cedric’s words causes butterflies in my stomach, and it warms a part of me I don’t understand.
Chapter Six
Cedric
Seeing the way Arwen feared me when I’d stated my name pisses me off. I can only assume she knows my family name all too well. I hate the fact I’m a Gheata and wish nothing more than to get rid of it, but my mother had told me a long time ago—the name does not make the man, it’s the man who makes the name.
I was surprised with Arwen when she took my hand, allowing me to help her off the floor. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I wait for her response to me telling her I’ll never let anything happen. I can’t believe I said what I did aloud.
Swear, the woman’s bewitched me under her spell.
When she doesn’t say anything and just continues to look at me, I clear my throat. “Do you wanna talk about what happened to you?”
Arwen flinches as she shakes her head. “If I don’t want to, will you make me?”
My chest constricts at the softness of her voice. “Arwen, I’m not gonna force you to tell me what all you’ve been through. Though I would like for you to at least tell me about last night.”
Nodding, Arwen casts her gaze to the bed and starts fidgeting her hands. “I ran away from home,” she utters silently. “I don’t want to be married off. Especially to the vile man they want to put me with.”
“Who?” The question is out before I can stop it.
“Cesare Gheata,” she whispers, lifting her gaze to meet mine. I wonder what she’s thinking right now. I know what I am. The mere thought of her being my half-brother’s—pisses me off.
“He’ll never have you,” I growl, making myself a vow to make sure he never touches a hair on her head.
Cocking her head to the side, Arwen takes in my expression. “You confuse me.”
“I’m nothing like my family. Maybe one day, when you feel like telling me your story, I’ll tell you mine,” I say sincerely. Eyeing her neck, I nod. “What happened to give you the bruises?”
“Ciro,” she murmurs, reaching up to touch her neck. “I ran away the other night, hid for the day in a crummy motel, and they found me when I was at the bus station. I got away from them, but Ciro, he caught up to me in an alley. I don’t know who, but someone stopped him.”
Ciro’s a dead fucking man when I get a hold of him.
“How do you know my brothers?” she asks, changing the subject.
“Not gonna go into details, but we’re friendly with your brothers. Your uncles and father—not so much,” I say grimly.
Arwen nods at the same time someone knocks on the door, causing her to jump.
“Yeah,” I call out to whoever’s on the other side of the door.
The door creaks open slightly for Mara-Lee to fill the space, holding things in her hands. “Hey, breakfast will be ready in about ten minutes. I didn’t know if Arwen wanted to take a shower beforehand, so I brought her some stuff.”
