ALARIC POV
Did that really happen? Had I imagined it?
From the shock written all over Martha’s face, probably not.
She’d punched me. Right in the face.
And Drake was already pushing forward, claws scraping against the inside of my ribs, ready to handle the disrespect, to break something, to remind the little human in front of us exactly what she had just done—when I forced him back, reminded him who she was.
Aria’s best friend.
And only that—only that, only the thought of Aria—made him stop, made him retreat just enough to keep my fangs from slipping out and scaring the s**t out of the first woman who had the guts to punch me without even saying hi.
She mumbled something under her breath, shaking her hand like she’d hurt herself, and then glared at me like I was the problem here. Li
